Christina
She never did find out why her friends didn’t turn up
that night just after Christmas. She waited for them for almost an hour at the
outdoor rink. She cursed them for thinking it was too cold. And she cursed the
‘flu’ bug that was doing the rounds.
But I’m here now, she thought, so
I might as well get on with it.
Christina
pulled on her boots and tightened up the laces. Soon she was whirling round the
ice causing her skimpy little skirt to twirl out prettily. She smiled to
herself as she moved, and knew her legs looked good even in these thick granny
tights. Those dance skating lessons had certainly been worth it.
She
had the small rink almost to herself, and, as always, people stopped to watch.
Some actually clapped. People came and went, but a group of bikers stayed put.
‘Pretty,
pretty,’ called one of them. ‘Do us a twirl.’ Their English sounded funny. How
did they know she was English, though?
Hot
and breathless, she had to stop. She soon began to feel cold though and the hot
chocolate stall looked inviting. She joined the queue, and as she waited her
turn, her teeth began to chatter.
‘Wouldn’t
you rather have a beer?’ called one of the bikers.
It
seemed to take forever to get served.
‘Met
slagroom?’ asked the ugly man when she finally reached the counter.
Christina
nodded. Cream would be nice, but she didn’t know enough Dutch yet to ask for
marshmallows.
She
drank her chocolate. It was good and warmed her up.
‘Will
you dance with me?’ called one of the bikers.
Will you leave me alone? she thought. She looked at her watch. She’d better
get going. It was getting quite near the time she said she should be back home.
The last thing she wanted was another argument with her parents.
As
she stepped off the ice, another of the bikers came up to her. He put an arm
around her waist and the stench of cigarette smoke and beer assaulted her
nostrils. Then his face was leering into hers. He said something in Dutch,
which she couldn’t understand. Oh, why hadn’t she gone straight home when the
others hadn’t shown up? She struggled to free herself from him. He said
something else. The smell of beer on his breath was even stronger now.
Encouraging him, the others began to cheer and laugh, and Christina’s mouth
went dry and her heart began to race.
‘Let
go!’ she screamed, looking frantically around for someone to help her.
There
was no help. No one seemed to think the bikers were doing any harm.
Out
of the corner of her eye, she noticed another motorbike arrive with its tall
leather-clad rider. He shouted something to the drunken biker. This time, she
understood the Dutch.
‘Let
her go, idiot!’ he shouted clearly and slowly. He got off his machine and as he
removed his helmet, silky blonde hair tumbled to his shoulders. The drunkard
stepped back. There was a rapid conversation between the tall blonde one and
the others, before he waved them away. At last they began to move.
A
white light pulsated from one of the bars beside the rink. Christina tried to
focus on the one who was trying to help her, but the light dazzled her and she
had to shut her eyes. Suddenly the world was spinning round and she felt
slightly sick. She was losing control, as if her brain was seizing up.
Not
that. Please not that. Not here. She knew she shouldn’t have looked at that
light.
Everything
went black and Christina was trapped in a narrow room from which she couldn’t
escape. A band tightened around her head and she was suffocating. Then nothing
at all. But it was a nothingness that seemed to go on for hours.
When
she awoke, she didn’t know where she’d been. She never did.
There
was a strong smell of leather. The guy with the long blonde hair was standing
very close to her. She could see the other bikers still hanging around. The
biker who had grabbed her was looking worried.
‘How
are you, little one?’ asked the tall blonde one in Dutch.
She
couldn’t muster any words together in this language, which was still so new for
her. ‘I, er, I’m English,’ she stuttered.
The
drunken biker wobbled forward. ‘Sorry…sorry,’ he muttered, holding up his
hands.
‘Where
were you then?’ asked the tall blonde biker. ‘You seemed a long way away.’
‘N-no,’
stammered Christina. She’d just been dazzled by the lights, hadn’t she?
‘Are
you all right?’ he asked.
What
was he saying? She hadn’t had a fit, had she? Perhaps it had just been a petit
mal this time.
‘You
look pale. Do you want me to call someone for you?’
‘No!
I’m fine,’ said Christina. She really felt fine now. This man was very
interesting. In fact, he was gorgeous. She just felt too ill to appreciate him
properly. To her horror, she started to shake.
‘Oh,
dear. You’re shivering. You will catch cold and must get home. Do you live
far?’ The slight Dutch accent was cheerful and friendly and his eyes twinkled.
‘I’ll
be all right. Honest I will,’ she managed to say.
‘I
could give you a lift on my bike.’
‘No
better not.’ She thought of all those warnings about not going off with
strangers. How her parents didn’t like motorbikes. Then there was the question
of whether she could handle anyone as sophisticated as this. He was obviously
quite a bit older than her.
‘I
don't drink or smoke,’ he said. ‘Or do drugs. And I’m a very safe driver.’ He
touched her very lightly on the shoulder and looked straight into her eyes.
Thank goodness it wasn’t a full-blown fit, she thought.
‘You
shouldn’t go home on your own,’ he said.
She
shrugged.
‘I’m
Jan by the way.’
‘And
I’m Christina,’ she replied.
