Chapter One
Christina
For some reason she never did find out, 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 making her skimpy little skirt twirl out prettily. She smiled to herself as she moved. She 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 the 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?
She got hot and breathless and had to stop. Then she began to feel cold.
The hot chocolate stall looked inviting. Her teeth began to chatter as she queued.
‘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 who was serving.
Christina nodded. Cream would be nice, but she didn’t know enough yet to ask for marshmallows.
She drank her chocolate. It was good. It 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. She didn’t want another argument.
As she stepped off the ice, another of the bikers came up to her. He stank of cigarette smoke and beer. He put an arm around her waist. Then his face was leering into hers. He said something in Dutch which she could not understand. Now she wished she’d gone straight home when the others hadn’t shown up. She tried to free herself from him. He said something else. She could smell the beer on his breath even more strongly now. The others began to cheer and laugh. Her mouth went dry and her heart began to race.
‘Let go!’ she screamed. She looked round frantically for someone to help her.
There was no help. No one seemed to think they were doing any harm.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed another motor-bike arrive with its tall leather-clad rider. He shouted something to the biker who was drunk. She could understand the Dutch this time.
‘Let her go, idiot!’ he shouted clearly and slowly. He got off his machine. He removed his helmet. Silky blond hair tumbled to his shoulders. The drunkard stepped back. There was a rapid conversation between the tall blond one and the others. The blond one waved them away. 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 felt as if she was losing control, as if her brain was seizing up.
Not that. Please not that. Not here. She shouldn’t have looked at that light.
Everything went black. She was trapped in a narrow room and couldn't get out. There was a tight band around her head and she was suffocating. Then nothing at all. But it was a nothingness that seemed to go on for hours.
She didn’t know where she’d been. She never did.
Now, though, there was a strong smell of leather. The guy with the long blond 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 blond one in Dutch. She could not 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,’ holding up his hands.
‘Where were you then?’ asked the tall blond biker. ‘You seemed a long way away.’
‘No,’ stammered Christina. She’d just been dazzled by the lights, hadn’t she?
‘You’re all right?’ he said.
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,’ cried Christina. She really felt fine now. And this man was really very interesting. He was gorgeous. She just felt too ill to appreciate him properly. She started to shake.
‘Oh, dear. You’re shivering. You will catch cold. You 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 motor-bikes. And 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.’
Then he touched her very lightly on the shoulder. He looked straight into her eyes.
Thank goodness it hadn’t been a full blown fit.
‘You shouldn't go home on your own.’
She shrugged.
‘I’m Jan by the way,’ he said.
‘And I’m Christina,’ she replied.
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