Illyrian Summer, page 11
“It would be very agreeable if we could have one of those to live in while we stay here,” Radmilla remarked wistfully, “but I expect the best we can manage is a hut somewhere.”
Zoran had already made inquiries and now escorted the two girls to a hut encampment on the farther side of the river. Here they found bunks and a small space for their personal possessions.
“We shall be very comfortable here,” commented Sarah. “All the mod cons,” she added carelessly, but translated the abbreviations quickly before Radmilla could ask.
Radmilla yawned after Zoran had left them to settle in. “I think we could have the rest of today to be lazy,” she said. “Tomorrow we will start work.”
Sarah was glad of the opportunity to visit the prefab site where Adam was in charge.
By now a number of houses had been erected and were only awaiting electricity and water services to be connected.
Sarah approached one of the men whom she thought she recognized and asked for Adam Thorne. When he did not understand, she wrote down the name and asked another man.
“Beograd,” he answered, and pointed up the road to Belgrade.
“Hvala,” she smiled, and walked away.
So Adam had gone to Belgrade, no doubt taking Mirjana with him so that she could see her mother.
A coldness crept into Sarah’s heart.
CHAPTER SIX
For the first few days Sarah worked at the health center near the hospital. With her own typewriter she was doubly welcome, and not only were the officials extremely kind and helpful, but several of the young men and girls brought her little presents of an apple or a bar of chocolate, and once two small boys gave her a basket of wild strawberries picked that morning in the hills. Everyone smiled at her and called her the young Engleskinja,
Every evening she and Radmilla, accompanied by Zoran when he was free, went to the huge tented camp of the Red Army, where in a clearing around a small camp fire groups of almost every nationality performed dances, sang songs and mixed together in a jamboree spirit.
This was where nightly Sarah searched for Adam’s face in the fireglow. Since almost everyone in the whole town drifted to these evening amusements, surely it was likely that Adam might come one night? But he did not.
When she had been at Krasnograd nearly a week, she was typing a batch of index cards at the health center and her fingers stopped in midair as the words appeared on her typewriter. “Spirova, Mirjana,” followed by the equivalent of “transferred to” and an address. She hurriedly made a note of the address, and as soon as she met Radmilla that evening she asked where it might be.
Radmilla shook her head. “It is not a street that I know. The town is not there, so perhaps it is another town, not Krasnograd.”
“Possibly Belgrade,” agreed Sarah despondently.
But Zoran guessed that it might be a house near the steelworks.
“Thank you, Zoran. I’ll visit Mirjana if she is still there. Will you come, Radmilla?”
But Radmilla wanted to spend her time with Zoran, and Sarah was undeniably glad of the opportunity to go alone.
She found the house without much trouble, and an elderly woman opened the door. Almost immediately Sarah’s command of Serbo-Croatian deserted her and she began to stumble out a few haphazard words of inquiry. Eventually she recovered her poise a little and spoke more coherently, and the woman invited her into the house.
Mirjana hobbled to greet Sarah. After a few preliminary remarks and inquiries, Sarah understood that Mirjana’s leg, though still in plaster, allowed her to hobble about with the aid of a stick and that the doctors said she must use it and not rest it too much.
As for Adam, he had gone to Belgrade some days ago to visit Mirjana’s mother and reassure her about the future.
“Also,” Mirjana continued, “he will find a place for me to live temporarily while my mother is in hospital. This house is where he lives now because his hotel was destroyed.”
Sarah saw the situation all too plainly. Adam had, of course, and most naturally, brought Mirjana to the house where not only would she be well looked after but where he would have ample opportunity of being with her.
“But eventually you will both come back here? You and your mother?” Sarah forced herself to ask the question.
“Oh, yes,” came Mirjana’s quick and certain answer. “When my mother is well we shall return. My work is here. But now I worry because it is all neglected. Adam must find a new secretary for a few weeks.”
It occurred to Sarah that this was work she could no doubt do for Adam, but she suppressed that idea before it could take shape.
“When is Adam returning?” she asked.
“As soon as he can. He has much business to do in Belgrade.”
Sarah promised to come again to visit Mirjana and left the house.
Only a few yards away, Adam’s tall figure came striding toward her. He was obviously surprised to see her, but there was another expression on his face that she could not read. Pleasure? Resentment? Or perhaps only an amused tolerance.
“So you’re back in Krasnograd. What did Edmund forget to film?”
“The unit isn’t here,” she answered. “In fact, I’ve left the company.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows rose. “Temperamental differences?”
She laughed in spite of herself. “No. Just that the work was finished. The unit has gone to Florence and I had the choice to go to London or come here.”
“I see.”
“I’ve just been to visit Mirjana,” she continued. “I found this address because I’m working on the records for the health center. I ... I hope you didn’t mind?”
“Mirjana would be glad of company. Go and see her whenever you like.”
Adam had put down his suitcases and parcels. Now he said, “Let me get rid of these and I’ll walk back with you to whatever deluxe hotel you’re staying in.”
“But ... Mirjana?” she queried. “She’ll be anxious to—to hear about her mother.”
He gave her a long, almost hostile glance. “Yes, you’re right, of course. Mirjana will be expecting me. I’ll just come to the end of the path with you. It’s not yet dark, and you can probably see your way back to the town.”
The atmosphere had changed in a split second. Was it because she had reminded him of his obligations toward Mirjana, the girl who had saved his life? In any case, she was relieved that she had met him outside the house. She had no wish to witness the touching reunion between Adam and his beautiful Slav secretary.
She took a roundabout route back, crossing the river by a temporary bridge and walking through the deserted streets, then along the opposite bank. Even here she could hear the distant echoes of singing and laughter from the international camp. Tonight she was in no mood for gaiety and eventually returned to the hut and went to bed.
It was just as well to have an early night, for at five in the morning in this country of early risers, parties from various youth organizations—French, German, Austrian, Czech and many other nations—marched off singing and with banners flying to their daily task of clearing the debris.
Radmilla came in later with the news that Zoran had found a tent that she and Sarah could share.
“Just for ourselves, and in a good place. Near the river and the health center.”
Sarah brightened. “Sounds good. Do we move in tomorrow?”
“As soon as we wish.”
The tent was fairly roomy and comfortable, and Sarah liked the greater privacy. It was, however, a stroke of irony that as soon as she had settled in within a distance of only five minutes’ walk to the health center, the senior officials told her that temporarily the work was finished. The emergency of tracing every injured or sick person was over and now the medical authorities were moving to a new clinic, to allow the hospital site to be cleared so that rebuilding could start as soon as possible.
They expressed their gratitude to Sarah and the others who had worked long hours, and Sarah, as the only Engleskinja, was presented with a tin of chocolate biscuits that someone had brought from Belgrade.
“Do not despair that there is nothing more that you can do,” the assistant medical officer told hen “If you wish to stay here to help, there is much more. I am told that the international cafeteria needs many helpers. People must always eat.”
Sarah’s eyes shone with pleasure. It was heartwarming to be so appreciated.
She found that the cafeteria with its multiplicity of signs ranging from the native Medjunarodni Kafana to Hotel Ritz and Mother Hubbard’s Kitchen welcomed her, particularly when she volunteered to do any amount of washing-up.
“I’m not very expert at cooking.” she admitted, “although I could fry eggs—I think.”
As space was limited, most of the washing-up had to be done outside the long hut, and Sarah was busy when a party of British soldiers came by. Sarah could see by their uniforms that they belonged to the contingent that had brought and were erecting Nissen huts.
“Hiya, miss!” called out one.
Sarah gave them a demure “Good evening” in Serbo-Croatian.
They grinned, and one said with exaggerated gestures, “Me—like—you. Savvy?”
“Savvy yourself!” she retorted, laughing. “D’you mind if we speak English?”
“English! Why didn’t you say so?”
“You didn’t ask me.”
“You a washer-up for this outfit?” asked another man.
Sarah nodded.
“Look, ducks, I could bring a nice bit of strong wire tomorrow and make you some plate racks. Save you spreading everything out to dry.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Nothing like British ingenuity for saving work!”
Through a gap in the six or seven men grouped around her, she suddenly saw Adam’s face. “Hallo, Adam!” she said coolly.
The soldiers gave him one glance, saluted Sarah and walked away.
“Sorry if I interrupted the pleasantries,” Adam said. Sarah did not answer, and he continued, “New job?”
“Yes. The other one finished.”
“And what’s Daniel doing?”
“Daniel? Busy on the set in Florence, I expect.”
Adam’s face showed surprise. “Oh, isn’t he here with you?”
“He went with the unit to Italy.”
“Why didn’t you go with him?” Adam demanded.
“I told you I was sacked. Actually, I was sacked twice. Once because I was redundant and once because of Melanie.”
“Why was that?”
“She thought I was a menace—chiefly to Daniel’s career.”
Adam smiled sourly. “Perhaps you are.”
“Not now, anyway.” Sarah suddenly saw that she must make quite sure Adam understood about Daniel. “We were never engaged,” she said firmly. “That was only something Daniel said in a wild moment.”
Adam was silent. He did not look at her, and she expected him to say good-night and walk away.
“Why did you really choose to come here, then, instead of returning home to London? You know that it isn’t going to be a holiday.”
She raised her head and stuck out her chin. “I came to work in any way I could find.” She could hardly say that one of her reasons was the mistaken significance of the gift of a distaff. She added, “Edmund gave me generous compensation, so I’m not in need of money yet.”
“If you should want any help...” Adam began, but at that moment Radmilla appeared, eager to find out how Sarah was getting on and if she was nearly finished for the day.
“Zoran has told me that in one of the villages near here there will be two weddings on Saturday. Would you like to go?” she asked Sarah. “It is quite pleasing to watch.”
“I’d love to go,” Sarah replied.
“What transport have you laid on?” asked Adam.
“Zoran thinks he might be able to manage by taking an extra truckload,” Radmilla answered.
“We could go in my car,” Adam offered. Sarah’s delight bubbled while he and Radmilla discussed details and distances.
After he had gone, Radmilla murmured thoughtfully, “He could have come with us now to the camp entertainment.”
“Perhaps he has work to do,” Sarah commented, though she suspected that he was more anxious to return to Mirjana.
Sarah managed to have the whole of Saturday free, promising to work extra time other days, and dressed for the first time in her new Dalmatian costume.
“It’s all right for an English foreigner to wear this?” she asked Radmilla.
“Of course. You look very pretty. I wish I had not left mine in Sarajevo.”
When the two girls met Adam, Sarah’s lively spirits immediately sank. Mirjana was in the back seat. How stupid, Sarah thought, to believe that Adam would leave Mirjana out of this day trip!
The village was about twenty miles away and evidently en fete for today’s occasion. At intervals in the main street, posts crowned with flowers had been erected. The path between the church where one ceremony would be held and the sober office building where the civil marriage would take place was edged with colored ribbons and bunches of flowers.
When the weddings were over, the two couples headed a lively procession of attendants, friends and anyone else who cared to join in. A variety of instrument players made a musical din with bagpipes, drums and cornets, with an accordion or two wheezing away for good measure.
The diversity of costumes would have delighted a pageant master, and Sarah, eager to take films of the occasion, dodged about to find the best vantage points.
“You should be in the procession yourself, Sarah,” Adam remarked. “Where did you get your costume?”
“It’s a present. Bought in Dubrovnik. Or did you think it came out of the film company’s wardrobe?”
After giving him enough time to suppose that Daniel had bought it for her, she said, “Radmilla gave it to me.”
The wedding breakfast for the two couples and their relatives and friends was held jointly in the walled courtyard of the inn, where tables were set out under the trees.
Sarah and Radmilla had brought a. picnic meal for themselves, Mirjana and the two men, but wine to drink the health of the brides was free and flowing plentifully.
When the hot afternoon had cooled off, Sarah was delighted to watch the teams of folk dancers performing their traditional dances. The men danced with agility and vigor, while the women were more graceful and lyrical. Radmilla and Zoran showed Adam and Sarah some of the steps and figures and soon all four were whirling in large circles to the music of bagpipes and clarinets, while a small girl blew a whistle in the shape of a bird.
Sarah guiltily remembered Mirjana, who was unable to join the dance, and spoke to Adam at the end of a breathless round. “I must talk to Mirjana. It’s not fair to leave her on her own.”
But Mirjana was engrossed in chatting to a handsome, dark-eyed young man.
Adam said laconically, “I don’t think we need worry,” and broke the ring of dancers to interpose himself and Sarah into the chain.
Sarah wondered if Adam was surprised or disturbed by Mirjana’s capacity for finding new acquaintances, but he gave no sign.
After that day of merrymaking, Sarah did not see Adam for more than a fortnight. She was kept busy by her work at the international canteen, and sometimes she joined Radmilla at one of the food depots and typed out long lists of supplies.
Then one evening he came into the cafeteria for a meal. He looked tired and haggard; his hair, never very tidy, was unkempt and whitened with dust.
Sarah interrupted her work of collecting crockery and bottles and spoke to him. “Have you been busy, Adam?”
He pushed a hand across his forehead. “I’ve been trying to do two days’ work every day. Those prefabs are urgent. We simply must get a number of people housed before the winter and soon we shall have the autumn rains.”
She sat at the table with him while he ate.
“I’ve taken a lot of time off from the steelworks,” he said presently, “but things are piling up. Mirjana has been doing some of the secretarial work at home, but tomorrow I’m taking her to Belgrade for a spell. Her mother needs her there.” He paused for a moment. “Sarah, do you think you could give me a hand? Even a couple of half days a week would keep me going.”
All Sarah’s love for Adam welled up in a rush of eagerness. This was the first time he had ever asked her, and humbly at that, to do any service for him, and she wanted to throw her arms around his neck and tell him she would bang her typewriter sixteen hours a day for him, if need be.
She calmed herself and answered as sedately as she could, “Of course, Adam. I’ll be pleased to help you.”
He arranged details and times with her and later she persuaded him to relax for an hour and watch the nightly entertainment, which, while still spontaneous, had now developed into a variety program almost on a world Olympic scale.
Sarah went to bed that night happier than at any time since she had first met Adam. She drifted into sleep feeling that she hadn’t a care in the world.
Two nights later, heavy rain drumming on the tent woke both girls. Radmilla switched on her torch. “Only three o’clock,” she yawned, and rolled over again.
But Sarah, alert and wakeful, soon became aware of an ominous swishing and hissing. When something wet brushed her face she sat up, switched on her own torch and yelled with dismay.
“Radmilla! Wake up! We’re flooded!” she called.
In the torchlight she saw water coursing over the groundsheets as though the tent were pitched in the middle of a river.
“Heavens! What can we do?”
Radmilla, wide awake now, said, “We must save all our things and run to another tent.” She opened the tent flap, but hastily pulled in her head again. “The sky has opened. It rains like a waterfall.”
Sarah collected clothes, shoes, toilet items, everything she could put her hands on. It was a problem, though, to carry all her possessions in one journey.
