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Post by ladyfiaran22 on Feb 4, 2023 8:36:46 GMT -5
This is the first chapter of my Romanov/time travel fic that I’ve been working on for a long while. Feedback is appreciated.
Chapter 1
The first thing Nicholas noticed when he opened his eyes was the bright sunshine, tempered slightly by a few clouds. He bolted upright in bed and blinked several times, his heart pounding furiously and his mouth dry. The window in front of him and Alexandra's bed was clean glass and looked down on a well-kept garden blooming with luscious pink peonies, standing guard behind the globular flowers a mass of fiery red, orange and dark pink snapdragons. Next to the peonies were a bed of purple and white tulips and adjacent to the tulips were a stand of scarlet poppies. Further away was a cherry tree whose boughs bore ripening fruit, the cherries a bright pink which would turn red in the autumn.
"Alix!", he yelled.
Alexandra moaned and slowly opened her eyes, the sunlight making her eyes water. Gradually they adjusted to the light and her eyes widened in shock, then delight when she saw the garden. "We aren't in that horrid house anymore", she said in awe.
Just then, there was a polite knock on the door and Nicholas braced himself. He opened the door and it revealed a man in his early thirties, dark-haired and wearing glasses which reflected his dark blue eyes. The man wore black trousers and a white buttoned-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and buttoned neatly so the sleeves wouldn't flap "I suppose you like your room, after that dreadful place", he said in proper Oxbridge English.
"You're English!", Alexandra exclaimed.
"By the Grace of God, Your Majesty. My father is Belgian and our mother is Polish. I am Pierre Lacroix", he said.
Nicholas came to attention. "Where are the children?" he demanded.
"Maria and Anastasia are in a spare bedroom, they're still asleep. Olga, Tatiana and Alexei are across the street at my cousins' house. We'll discuss this over coffee", said Pierre.
"Where are we?", she asked.
"Manchester, Your Majesty. Didsbury, to be precise", replied Pierre.
Alexandra would have fainted if Nicholas hadn't caught her. "I know, it's a shock. The coffee is already done", said Pierre.
Nicholas helped Alexandra out of the room and down the stairs. The house appeared smaller than the Ipatiev House or the Governor's Mansion but it was cozy and welcoming, the hardwood floors polished and the scent of cut flowers in the air. On the low table in the parlor were a stack of books and on a shelf were records in cardboard sleeves while the shelf above the records held numerous photos in gilt frames. "The little girls are very pretty", said Alexandra.
"Thank you, the older girl is my daughter Nicole and the younger one is my niece Mollie. My brother Jack is in Japan with Mollie, she's visiting her Mum family whilst he's on a book tour. Before that they were in Hong Kong and Singapore as part of the tour. His ex-wife is Japanese", he explained.
"But they defeated us!", exclaimed Nicholas.
"That's in the past, Jack has always loved Japanese things and his novels are set in Japan, he speaks it very well for a gaijin. Minako didn't like it here and the Japanese are wary of mixed-race people, so they decided Mollie would live in England. They're coming back on Wednesday", said Pierre.
"How did we get here?", asked Nicholas.
Pierre poured three cups of coffee. "How do you take your coffee, Your Majesty? We brought you here from your time to ours, it's the year 1963", he said.
Both of them looked faint. "But that's impossible", he sputtered.
"Not for us, it isn't. The Lacroix one of the four clans of Sol Duga, the others are Torres, Sutherland and Jarvinen. We help people from the past escape their fates, or stop bad fates. My cousins are Sutherlands, your servants are in Finland with the Jarvinens", said Pierre.
"But how?", she asked.
"This", he replied, showing them his ring. At first glance it appeared to be a piece of attractive costume jewelry, a bluish-purple glassy stone mounted on a pewter ring. On closer inspection they could see the tiny pinpricks of light and swirly opaque clouds on its surface. "We all have these, they are ordinary costume rings but when Hugo blesses them they allow us to travel back and forth in time", he said.
"How can we thank you?", asked Nicholas.
"No worries, Your Majesty. Just think of this as your chance to be normal, not a czar. Hugo made the proper documents but I would recommend shaving your beard and moustache", said Pierre.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee seemed to revive them as Pierre handed them each a cup. "We want to see our children", said Nicholas.
"Just be quiet, they might be sleeping", he replied.
Pierre led them upstairs to a room at the back of the house. He carefully opened the door and the couple were relieved to see Maria and Anastasia sleeping soundly in adjacent beds. "And our other children are across the street?", asked Nicholas.
"Yes, when the girls wake up, we'll walk over", said Pierre.
Just then, another door opened and Nicole stood in the doorway. "Daddy, are they king and queen of Russia?", she asked.
Nicholas tried not to laugh. "Not anymore, Miss Lacroix. I am Nicholas and this is my wife Alexandra", he said kindly.
"My name is Nicole Athena Lacroix, sir. My Mum was Greek so I got a Greek middle name, my Babcia came from Poland but it was part of Russia", she said.
"My wife was from Cyprus, Mum's family's lands were in the Russian part of Poland", said Pierre quietly.
Alexandra nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Lacroix", she replied.
"Please call me Pierre, Your Majesty", he said.
Nicole clearly resembled her father with her wavy black hair in loose curls around her shoulders and her brilliant dark blue eyes with hints of violet, startling against her black hair and dark complexion, just like her father. "Then that means the ladies are princesses. They are prettier than our English princesses", she said.
"Thank you, Miss Lacroix. But we can't wait to see our other children, we have four daughters and a son", said Alexandra.
"Wow, four princesses!", exclaimed Nicole.
"Mama, where are we?", asked Maria in fright.
Alexandra rushed in and embraced her daughter. "You're safe, Mashka. This lovely man and his family saved us, we are in England", she said.
"We're in England!? This is like a Jules Verne story", said Anastasia in delight.
"Not quite. I am Pierre Lacroix and this is my daughter Nicole", he said.
"We cannot thank you enough, Mr. Lacroix. And your daughter is a lovely child", said Maria.
"But you're a princess and so pretty. Our princesses aren't", said Nicole.
"Tanya and Mashka are the beauties, Olga is the brains and I'm the imp", joked Anastasia.
"Those are our older sisters", explained Maria.
"Girls, let's have coffee and then we'll see the others", said Alexandra.
"There's some modern clothes in the closet, our cousin is nearly the size of the older girls and I'm afraid only her older clothes will fit you, Anastasia Nicholaevna", said Pierre.
"Oh faugh, I want to go shopping and buy woman clothes", said Anastasia with a huff.
"When you get settled in", he said reassuringly.
Everyone felt much better after coffee and donning fresh clothes, Nicholas in one of Pierre's trousers and polo shirts, Alexandra in one of his mother's dresses and the girls in Skye's dresses. "I can't wait to go shopping", said Anastasia. While her pale green dress had a skirt down to her ankles, the bodice was very tight across her ample bosom as it was from when Skye was thirteen.
"We will, but Skye is a tall girl and this is from when she was younger. She'll take you shopping, she loves fashion", said Pierre.
"I can't wait, it's been ages since we had new dresses", said Maria. She wore a pretty dark blue cotton dress with an A-line shape, the design flattering her ample bosom and little waist and nearly the color of her blue eyes.
Pierre led the group out the front door. Since it was an early Monday morning in July, the street was very quiet except for someone mowing their lawn down the street. The Lacroix house was a modest two-story brick house on a small plot, two holly bushes framing the front steps. He led them across the street to a similar house, except the front steps were flanked by two bushes sporting creamy white roses which gave off a delicate scent. "They're from Yorkshire", he explained.
From an open window they could hear soft, pretty music on they had never heard before. The door opened and a tall blond man dressed in black trousers and a plain white t-shirt answered it. "Welcome, glad you lot made it safely from t'horrid place", he said with a Yorkshire accent.
"You are from Yorkshire? It's lovely there", said Alexandra.
"I am, from Scarborough. Your children are fine, Tatiana is helping Skye with brekky. I'm Ian Sutherland", he said.
The sight which greeted them in the parlor caught them in their tracks. The pretty music came from a phonograph-type device on a table and Olga was seated at an upright piano playing along. The eldest Romanov sibling looked much better than she'd had in over a year, her dark blond hair pinned up in a neat braid and her cheeks flushed, her blue eyes sparkling. She was still too thin but she looked happier than in any time in recent memory.
Alexei squealed in delight when he saw his family, jumping up from the couch and hugging his parents. "Lyosha, you can walk!", exclaimed Anastasia.
"Hugo healed him while he was sleeping. If he were to go to a hospital the doctors would be suspicious since he should have been treated months ago", said Ian.
Olga stopped playing abruptly and embraced them. "This is a miracle!", she yelled.
"Just doing our duty, Olga Nicholaevna", said Ian.
"Is Alexei...", asked Alexandra, the question trailing off.
"Yes, Your Highness. Boys with hemophilia are treated from birth, doctors would be suspicious and Hugo didn't want to risk people getting suspicious", said Ian.
Alexandra grinned so wide she felt her face would crack. "That is all I ever wanted, for our son to be healthy. So he no longer has the disease? He can be a normal boy?", she asked.
"He will be a normal boy, Your Majesty. And him and Anastasia will have to go to school, otherwise officialdom gets suspicious", said Pierre.
"But I already know a lot, lessons are boring", said Alexei.
"Yes, but all children must go to school, Alexei Nikolovich. And you'll get to meet new people", said Ian.
"But what sort of school?", asked Nicholas.
"A secondary school, he's the correct age. There's some very good secondary schools here in Didsbury, both regular state schools and fee-paying ones, but many of the fee-paying ones are Catholic. My daughter and niece go to Our Lady of the Victories, it's a fine girls' primary school", said Pierre.
"I hope you brought an appetite, Skye and I have been preparing breakfast", said Tatiana as she wiped her hands on her apron and embraced her family.
"Of course, anything but black bread and tea", said Anastasia.
A tall young woman with a long honey-colored braid nearly to her waist emerged from the kitchen. Her hazel eyes were slightly tilted at the corners and her high cheekbones gave her an elegant Slavic look as she smiled at the family. "Good morning, Your Majesties. We're making blini with sour cream and jam, our Mum taught me. She's Polish", said Skye.
"Interesting, Miss Sutherland. We had an estate in Poland, Spala", said Nicholas.
"Our grandma's people might have been there, they were Polish nobility, the Jablonskis. We had to leave after the bloody Bolsheviks were advancing", said Skye with a grimace.
"Yes, I do remember a Count Jablonski visiting us at Spala, he had two lovely daughters. That Count Jablonski?", asked Nicholas.
"Yes, our grandfather. Our Mum was the elder sister Barbara and Pierre and Jack's Mum is the other sister Aurelia", replied Ian.
"Amazing, Mr. Sutherland. Do you know Polish?", asked Nicholas.
"Tak, Your Majesty. It made it easier for us to learn Russian, it would be more useful if I worked for MI6", he deadpanned.
"Then what do you do?", he asked.
"I am a professor of Ancient Greece at the University of Manchester, I specialize in Macedonia and Alexander. On behalf of the university, I've been to Greece, Iran, Iraq and India, Rajasthan and Gujarat. I would love to visit the Central Asian Soviet republics since there's a lot of Alexander sites and his favorite wife Roxana came from there", Ian replied.
Olga's eyes were wide as saucers. "You went to India? I want to see India", she declared.
"India is a fascinating country, but very extreme. The northwest is very hot and dry, except for monsoons. The palaces and temples are amazing, but there is also extreme poverty. You have to be open-minded and willing to tolerate things, it's all part of the experience", said Ian.
"Luckily the British keep things in line", said Nicholas.
"Actually, India is an independent country. They still use the British railways and many people speak English, but they are independent. It's a long story", said Ian.
Anastasia grimaced at the idea of a long historical story. Her eyes widened when she realized Skye was wearing pink dainty sandals and her toenails were painted bright red. "I had my feet done this summer before we go on holiday, I'm a nurse so I can't paint my fingernails", she explained.
"I want to paint my nails", declared Anastasia.
Alexandra frowned. "Ladies don't do that", she chided.
"Actually, painting nails is very popular. But since I'm a nurse, I can only paint my toenails because the work would ruin them", said Skye.
"I was a nurse too, at our hospital", said Tatiana.
"I'm a school nurse at our local primary school", said Skye.
"That sounds dull", said Tatiana.
"I get the summers and holidays off. And call me Skye, since we live together. And people call you Tanya?", she asked.
"Yes, but only family. Skye is an unusual name", she replied.
"Our parents went to Scotland for their honeymoon and liked it so much they gave us Scottish names. Plus one part of the Sutherland clan is Scottish, the other branch is from Yorkshire", Ian said.
"I'm hungry", whined Alexei.
Skye chuckled. "And brekky is ready. I hope you like our blini", she said.
Everyone sat down at a table laden with a large platter of blini in the center flanked by a crock of sour cream and several jams of assorted fruits. At each place setting was a mug of steaming tea as the family tried to control their hunger. "I know, I don't blame you", said Pierre.
Tatiana had to chuckle when she saw Anastasia and Alexei greedily eat the blini filled to bursting with sour cream and jam. Skye gave her a sympathetic smile as she took a bite of hers. "These are lovely, Miss Sutherland", said Nicholas.
"Thank you, but Tanya helped", said Skye.
Tatiana blushed. "That's good, Tanya. I suppose under our new lives, you could learn to cook", said Alexandra.
"But I want to be a nurse like Skye, Mama", she replied.
"Perhaps for January you could enroll in nursing school. If you're good at it, you could go to medical school", said Skye.
"Now that is a possibility", said Tatiana.
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Post by ladyfiaran22 on Feb 6, 2023 19:57:56 GMT -5
Chapter 2
"It is so overwhelming, Tanya. I need to process everything", said Olga as she flopped down on the bed in their room on the second floor of the Sutherland's house.
"Careful, Olishka. It is overwhelming but in a good way. We are safe in England like we were supposed to. I can see why finding ourselves in this time would be a shock, but we will adjust", said Tatiana.
"You were always the sensible one of us girlies, Tanya. I want to learn more about this time, I want to travel all over England. And I eventually want to travel like Ian and go to India", said Olga.
Tatiana gave her older sister a knowing look. "He is quite handsome, nyet? And he seems very smart", she teased.
Olga blushed furiously. "Ian is handsome, da. But he is very smart and the music he played for us is lovely. I quite like this Dave Brubeck fellow", she said.
"It is nice music, but not quite to my taste. I find it hard to believe that ragtime evolved into this jazz", said Tatiana.
"Well, music would have changed in all this time. I know Mama and Papa, Mashka and Nastya are with the Lacroix family, but it still feels odd", said Olga.
"And Alyosha is down the corridor from us, he has his own room. I want to repay them for their help", said Tatiana.
"No need to, but you can join once we speak to Hugo", said Skye as she sat down on the bed.
"Is Hugo a god?", asked Olga.
"No, an immortal wizard. We're Christians, except for the Jarvinens who are pagans", replied Skye.
"Finns never seemed very religious", Olga commented.
"They ended up as Lutherans, not the best fit. Now, did your dad really meet our granddad?", asked Skye.
"I suppose, there were so many people at Spala, we don't remember them all. Do you speak Russian?", asked Tatiana.
"No, but I do speak Polish. I suppose they're similar enough. I know French since all smart people ought to speak it, even if the French are a bunch of wankers", Skye quipped.
"Tres bien, parlez Francais. I'm afraid we have Swiss accents", said Olga.
"I have a Belgian accent since Pierre and Jack have a Belgian dad. I have to learn to speak better, but it's not very useful as a school nurse", Skye laughed.
"What is that like?", asked Tatiana.
"In a primary school it's mostly skinned knees and tummy aches, a few kids are on medication and I have give it to them", she explained.
"It sounds boring", said Tatiana dismissively.
"I suppose it does, after working in a war hospital. You could study to be an Accident and Emergency nurse, I suppose that's the closest equivalent", Skye suggested.
"You mean, like in a hospital? I would like that", said Tatiana.
"I don't want to do any more nursing, it was too much", Olga whispered.
"You could go to uni and study something, a lot of women do", said Skye.
"Not now, Skye. I want to make sense of everything first and adjust", said Olga.
"Fair enough. But this Monday coming we're going to Blackpool, it's Ian's idea. He figured that since you lot haven't had a proper birthday celebrations in a long while, this is his way to make up for it", said Skye.
"Is that a beach place? Is it like Cowes?", asked Tatiana.
"Not quite, it's got a big funfair and lots of clubs. Juan owns a summer club there, the rest of the year it's in Manchester. He's a Torres through his dad", said Skye.
"But what about your cousin who is arriving?", asked Olga.
"Today is Monday, he arrives Wednesday. Pierre is taking the train to Heathrow, ask if you want to go", said Skye.
"No thank you, I'm tired", said Olga.
"I would like to see London, all we saw of England was Cowes", said Tatiana.
"I don't like London, too bloody huge. I'm just a Yorkshire lass, I much prefer the hills and dales", said Skye.
"I'll ask Mama and Papa", said Tatiana.
"Why do you have to ask, you're an adult", exclaimed Skye.
"But London is far", Tatiana protested.
"It's five hours on t'train. Plus we have a telephone", Skye replied.
"All right. Maybe Mashka would like to come along, Nastya and Alexei are too young", said Tatiana.
Olga giggled, the sound startling from the normally serious blond. "Ah, and I think Mashka likes Pierre, she kept looking at him all throughout breakfast", she teased.
"Da, but he is very good looking and kind. Mashka has always been a big flirt", said Tatiana.
"It's about time Pierre started dating again, he's been widowed for a long time. Marina was his wife, a lovely girl from Cyprus. She got hit by a drunk driver whilst crossing the street", said Skye quietly.
"How horrid!", Olga exclaimed.
"It would be good if he started dating again and Nicole needs a Mum. And I can see that she likes kids, a lot of women don't want to date a guy with kids", said Skye.
"What sort of books does your cousin write?", asked Tatiana, changing the subject.
"It's a series of novel about an English sailor who's shipwrecked in Japan, during Queen Elizabeth I's reign. He becomes advisor to a lord who eventually becomes the shogun, which is like the top military ruler of Japan. The first one is about him but the others are about his descendants", she explained.
"Interesting. How would a British person learn Japanese, it looks hard as Chinese", said Tatiana.
"It is, but all of the Sol Duga are good at languages. Ian knows French, Polish, Russian, Farsi, Arabic, both kinds of Greek, Latin, Hindi and Gujarati. Pierre knows the above except Farsi, Hindi and Gujarati, but he knows Turkish and Serbo-Croatian", she replied.
Both sisters looked awestruck. "All we know is Russian, English and French", said Olga.
"That's three languages, most British only know English", said Skye dryly.
"Is Russia still Bolshevik?", asked Olga.
"Yes, unfortunately. The bloody wankers forced Mum's family to feel before their advance and they stole everything. Our manor is a ruin but my gran and the women in the family hid jewels sewn into their corsets and dresses", said Skye with grim satisfaction.
"Our corsets have jewels sewn into them, should we sell them?", asked Tatiana.
"Maybe one stone at a time, otherwise jewelers get suspicious", said Skye.
"That makes sense. Do women still wear them?", asked Olga.
"No, thank goodness. Doctors say they're bad for you", replied Skye.
"I see. But I've been wearing one for so long, I wouldn't know how to go without it", said Tatiana.
Skye looked at her and realized how small her waist was. "How wide is your waist, Tanya?", she asked.
"Sixteen inches", she said proudly.
Skye huffed. "That's not good, Tanya. Take off the bloody thing, you'll constrict your organs", she ordered.
"But if I do, I wouldn't have a shape. Mama says without it, I resemble Alexei", said Tatiana.
"The thin look is in, bosoms are out. I'm the same size as you and I don't wear a corset", said Skye.
Tatiana sighed and went into the walk-in closet, emerging ten minutes later holding the corset. "See, we have a similar build. And you'll feel better", said Skye.
"It feels strange, Skye. I just hope my figure doesn't spread out and become fat", said Tatiana.
"You won't, as long as you don't eat fried things with chips. I grew up in a seaside town and I can't stand fish and chips, it's just grease and salt. I don't eat fried things, it's bad for your cholesterol", said Skye.
"But what foods are good for you, then?", asked Tatiana.
"Fruit, veg, dark breads and oats, lean meat. White flour and white sugar aren't good for you, neither is too many animal fats since they accumulate in your arteries and cause heart attacks. I only have some chicken and fish, the blini I made with whole wheat flour", replied Skye.
"They were good, but they did feel different. I want to learn more about now", said Tatiana.
"I'm tired, Tanya", Olga murmured.
"All right, Olya", said Tatiana as her and Skye left the room.
"Is Olya all right?", asked Alexei, looking up from his book.
"Yes, she's tired. And I see you like Ian's book", Skye chuckled.
"It's awesome, Alexander was awesome", said Alexei.
"He was, that's why I study Macedonia, Athens and Sparta have been done to death", said Ian.
Tatiana noticed the wooden box with the odd glass front in the parlor. "That's a television, it's like having a cinema in your house, except it's only BBC here in Britain. I bought it because the shop was having a sale, it's an older model", said Ian.
"Telly is boring, only good if there's a film or Shakespeare play. Yank telly has a lot more channels", said Skye.
"We had a cinema in our house, but a projector and a screen. I suppose this is a smaller version", said Tatiana.
"Let's go tell your parents you are going to London tomorrow", teased Skye.
"But that isn't proper", protested Tatiana.
Skye laughed, her hazel eyes amused. "Tanya, you're going to London with Pierre and Maria, think of it as being a chaperone. Besides, some women and men live together before they marry. Some of my friends at uni did that before they married", she said.
"I suppose, but I'll have to get used to it", she replied.
The two women went across the street to the Lacroix house, where Nicholas and Alexandra were riveted to a BBC production of Macbeth while Maria and Anastasia were in the kitchen looking through a large colorful book on Byzantine art, a blue plastic transistor radio playing the weekly Beatles show. The two girls got up and started dancing when the Beatles played Carol, giving the Chuck Berry classic a swinging beat missing from the original. "Ohh Tanya, you have to hear this group, the Beatles!", squealed Anastasia.
"The Beatles are the biggest group in England, all the young girls love them. They're from Liverpool", said Skye.
"I love the Beatles!", yelled Nicole as she rushed into the kitchen and started dancing.
Tatiana looked on with bemusement and thought this Beatles music was noisy. The music stopped and she winced at their thick Scouse accents, sounding like peasants and their English nearly unintelligible. "Yeah, I have trouble understanding these Scouse gits too", said Skye.
Pierre entered the kitchen and set a kettle on the stove. Skye nudged Tatiana as she took a deep breath. "Mr. Lacroix, would it be all right if I went to London with you?", she asked.
"Of course, and would you like to come along, Maria Nicholaevna?", he asked.
"Yes, of course!", exclaimed Maria as Pierre exhaled and grinned like a schoolboy.
"I want to go to London but I don't want to miss tomorrow's show. And we're going shopping", said Anastasia.
"Your Majesties, Tatiana and Maria want to go with me to London tomorrow, I'm picking up my brother and my niece at Heathrow Airport", said Pierre.
"What? People fly in airplanes as passengers?", asked Nicholas in disbelief.
"Yes, especially very long distances. I just want to let you know, I will chaperone them", said Pierre.
"What are you going to do in London?", asked Alexandra.
"See a museum, perhaps a film. Or go to my friend's theatre, he owns a theatre that puts on all sorts of shows and we've known each other since our military service", he replied.
"I see. And what of this friend?", asked Nicholas.
"He's a good lad, his father is a Baron and his mother comes from a wealthy banking family. He's the heir to the Barony of Northwood", he replied.
"All right, but I want you girlies to be on your best behavior. And please call when you arrive at the hotel", said Alexandra as her daughters hugged her.
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Post by ladyfiaran22 on Feb 8, 2023 19:27:15 GMT -5
Chapter 3
Tatiana tried to hide her excitement as her and Maria waited outside with Pierre for the cab to Manchester Piccadilly station. Both women wore Skye's dresses, Tatiana's black with a white Peter Pan collar, black stockings and black patent leather heels while Maria's was in royal blue with white polka dots and matching black stockings and heels. Both had their hair down to their shoulders with the ends flipped up, a style Skye had helped them with and topped by little pillbox hats.
"I want to buy a lot of pretty dresses in London", said Maria.
"I want to repay Skye, it's only fair", said Tatiana.
"We will, you'll be a nurse and then you can buy all sorts of pretty dresses", said Maria.
The cab arrived and Pierre put their bags in the trunk. "Piccadilly, sir?", asked the driver, a middle-aged man in a flat wool cap.
"Yes, thank you. We're picking up my brother from Heathrow", he replied.
"London town is too far, never did like it down south", said the driver.
It was a quick 15-minute drive to Piccadilly but the trip from the leafy suburb of Didsbury to central Manchester fascinated the sisters. The cab traveled much faster than their father's Rolls Royce and the road was smooth and paved, even the dull grey warehouses and apartment buildings near the station capturing their interest.
Pierre paid the driver and took their bags from the trunk. "Stay by me the whole time", he warned.
Piccadilly was busy early in the morning with commuters boarding trains to and from the suburbs, to the outlying towns as the loudspeakers blared information in a Mancunian twang. The noise of the train engines combined with the chatter of people and the intermittent squawk coming from the loudspeakers was far louder than any station in Russia, the constant hustle dizzying. Little kiosks hawked everything from newspapers and magazines and junk food, the little booths manned by bored middle-aged men. No one seemed to notice them as they went to catch their train, the whole combining to give them dizzy spells.
Tatiana was relieved when they boarded their train and the porter took their bags to the luggage car. "Is it always this busy?", she asked.
"Usually, but the stations in London are worse. Just stay close", said Pierre.
"It wasn't that bad", said Maria as she unwrapped a chocolate bar.
"Now you ought to practice your names, from now on you're Tessa Parker", Pierre whispered.
Tatiana nodded. "At least Maria keeps her name, I get it. I hope I don't end up like Tess", she joked.
"You're smarter than Tess, Tessa", he teased.
Maria delicately nibbled at her chocolate. "I like it, Tessa is an elegant name", she said.
Tatiana made a mental note to tell her sister not to eat chocolate in public. "Yes, Maria", she replied.
The train filled with passengers, their first class carriage containing mostly well-dressed middle-class people who barely noticed them. Soon it was full and the train's whistle blasted a few times as the last few passengers scrambled aboard, before the train slowly pulled away from the station.
At first the scenery was uneventful as they passed the southern suburbs of the city and then the surrounding mill towns. The landscape then morphed into neat little towns surrounded by greenery, but they quickly lost interest after a few miles. Tatiana was glad that she had brought along a book as she took out Jack's novel, the Rose and Sword.
By the time they got to London, she was almost finished with the book and was visibly annoyed when the train arrived at Euston station. "Jack is a brilliant author, isn't he?", asked Pierre.
"I want to know if James ends up with Satsuma and if Mr. Tanaka becomes shogun. Japan sounds like a fascinating country, it reminds me of medieval England", said Tatiana.
"Then you ought to tell Jack that, Japan isn't my thing", said Pierre.
Maria was vaguely irritated and she held on tightly to his arm. Tatiana nodded in understanding. "Let's find our bags and go to the hotel", she said.
Pierre collected their bags and hailed a cab outside the station. "The Jenkins hotel", he told the driver.
At first the sisters peered out the window wanting to see London but the area around the station seemed dull with streets of nondescript apartment buildings and shops. But they perked up when they arrived in Bloomsbury, with its handsome Georgian buildings and neat little shops. Tatiana thought the area reminded her of a German town in Hesse but kept quiet as to not make the driver suspicious.
The driver stopped in front of a pale pink and white Georgian building with a dark blue awning over the entrance. Pierre took their bags and led them inside as the sisters looked about the lobby curiously. The parlor was done in the same white, pink and cream as the exterior with potted ferns adding a touch of green. The sofas and chairs were upholstered in dusky pink satin and the polished floor was tiled in a geometric pattern of pink and white, framed paintings of bucolic English landscapes hanging on the walls. Tatiana felt as though she were back in Alexandra's Mauve Room boudoir, the same kind of pastel chintz giving her Deja vu as Maria patted her arm and nodded in understanding.
Pierre ushered them towards the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. "Do you come to London often?", asked Maria.
"Yes, since my publisher is in London and for academic conferences. I've published several books on the Byzantine Empire, I am a professor of Byzantine studies", he replied.
"What's it like to write a book?", asked Maria.
"Hard work since I have to do a lot of research and that means reading all sorts of things and traveling. Maria, I want you to travel with me. Marina was content to stay in England with Nicole, but I want us to travel as a family", he said.
"Where do you travel?", she asked.
"Greece, Turkey, Egypt, Italy, the Middle East", he replied.
"Ohh, I want!", Maria squealed.
"Pierre, that's moving too fast", chided Tatiana.
The elevator stopped on the fifth floor and he led them towards the room. "Those are safe areas and it isn't for holiday, it's part of being a professor and writer, Tessa. Perhaps if Olivia and Ian become a couple, she would travel with him", he replied.
"Is that proper?", she asked.
"Yes, of course. Sorry if it seems sudden", he said.
Tatiana nodded as they entered the room. It was done in the same pink and cream décor as the lobby but with less chintz, three bed, a nightstand topped by a pink porcelain lamp, a transistor radio, a brass alarm clock, a rotary phone and door which opened onto the bathroom. A tiny balcony looked down onto the hotel garden, a pretty green space with a little fountain where water spilled out from a dolphin surrounded by red and white rosebushes. "I call the hotel last night to set up two folding beds, Jack and Mollie are staying across the hall", said Pierre.
"It's lovely, can we see London?", asked Maria.
"London is huge, one doesn't see London in one day. We ought to see more of Manchester, Mashenka", he teased.
Maria giggled and blushed. Tatiana just sighed and got busy putting away their things. "Do you mind?", he asked, taking out a silver cigarette case. On the lid of the gleaming silver box was a golden double-headed Byzantine eagle on a crimson background done in enamel which shone in the hotel light.
"No, Papa smokes. And I haven't had a cigarette since I arrived in Ekaterinburg", said Tatiana.
"Bloody shame. These are Regals", he said.
Tatiana was still as he lit her cigarette and then Maria's, before closing his silver cigarette lighter. After a moment, he flipped it open and lit his own cigarette. "Three on a match is unlucky", he explained.
"Ah, this is nice", said Tatiana as she took a drag.
"Yes, Papa's cigarettes are good but the ones in Siberia were horrid", said Maria as she took a drag off hers.
"My one real vice, I started in the service since it was the only way to get a break", said Pierre.
"Now what do we do?", asked Maria as she took another drag.
Just then the phone rang in their room and Pierre answered it. "Okay, that sounds like a grand idea. Yes, I'm here with my girlfriend and her sister. Yes, we're all right. See you later then", he said before hanging up.
"That was Clive, he wants to meet us for supper and then he's taking us to his gallery, they're hosting an exhibit of modern art. He always wanted to own a gallery", Pierre chuckled.
"So he does art shows? Does he own this art?", asked Maria.
"No, he doesn't exhibit his own art. These are his friends who are artists and he displays their art in his gallery so they get attention and people can see them. If someone likes it, they can buy the art and Clive makes sure the artist gets paid well, he gets a small commission fee", he explained.
"But what would his parents think? Owning an art gallery isn't very usual for nobles", said Tatiana as she stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray on the dresser.
"His parents are deceased, his brother Nigel is the 14th Baron of Northwood. And his parents bought him the gallery because they don't want to deal with him, he's queer and they're embarrassed", he explained.
Understanding dawned on their faces. "I can see why, it is against the law and God", said Tatiana.
"But he's a good chap, his gallery is very successful and he's given artists a big break. Queers are just wired differently from other blokes", said Pierre with a shrug.
"Don't you worry he's going to try something?", asked Maria.
"No, I'm not his type. He likes blond chaps, his partner Gavin is an actor from Darby who's company is on the road in Wales. Of course it's illegal, but it's an open secret", he said.
"All right, I suppose London would have a lot of odd people", Tatiana mused aloud.
"But I want to meet odd people, Taneshka. Meeting new people is always fun", said Maria eagerly.
"I hope so, forty eight hours already", Tatiana quipped.
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Post by ladyfiaran22 on Feb 14, 2023 20:15:39 GMT -5
Chapter 4
"It's good to see you again, old bean", teased Clive Northwood as he clapped Pierre on the back.
"It is, Clive. This is my girlfriend Maria Parker and her sister Tessa, I'm showing them London before Jack and Mollie arrive", he said.
"Glad to meet you, Misses Parker. My gallery is having an exhibition of modern art, some friends of mine are showing off their latest works. Some painting, sculpture, and a jazz group is performing. It's a free jazz quartet, the Whitby Four. I saw them at the Blue Frog in Soho and they were brilliant", said Clive enthusiastically.
The sisters were charmed by Clive, having expected a man in a dress who acted like a flamboyant woman. Clive was tall and aristocratic-looking with wavy dark brown hair parted neatly on the side, his regal face dominated by sharp, keen hazel eyes. He wore an expensive tailored Edwardian suit in black, a white buttoned-down shirt and a maroon waistcoat adding a contrast. His long fingers were adorned with thin gold rings and his nails were manicured, a silver wristwatch peeking out from under his shirt sleeve. His whole demeanor was that of a British aristocrat with an edge, an Edwardian fop like something out of Oscar Wilde.
"And Clive, the usual?", asked Pierre.
"Of course, mon vieux. You ladies are going to like the Malabar, just the best Indian restaurant in Bloomsbury", said Clive cheerfully.
Soon they were seated at a corner table at the Malabar, their favorite Indian restaurant. The décor was in bold red and orange but tasteful, a quartet of musicians playing soft raga music on a tiny stage. A waiter in a black suit came over with a tray of gin and tonics before handing them menus. "Gin and tonics with Tanqueray, the best gin in England", said Clive in rapture.
Tatiana looked curiously at the crystal-clear drink topped with lemon peel. She took a tentative sip and then another. "It's very good", she said.
"Gin is the English drink, and the Queen's favourite", laughed Clive.
"Absolutely, I'm English by the Grace of God", agreed Pierre.
Maria swallowed nearly half the drink and giggled. "Careful, Maria", he warned.
"I remember stealing sips of Dad's gin as a lad, I got sick. Learned my lesson", Clive joked.
"So Clive, did you from your dad?", asked Pierre.
Clive waited until the waiter took their orders and then took out his gold cigarette case and matching lighter, the Northwood coat of arms on the lid. "Just a bloody birthday card and my allowance in my account, pardon the language. Nigel is the heir and our parents' pride and joy, the allowance is to make sure the black sheep of the Northwood family stays out of trouble", he said with a dry chuckle before lighting a Dunhill.
"How awful!", Maria exclaimed.
"It's a rich baron thing, Miss Parker. Since I am of an artistic temperament and have no inclination towards the fair sex, I'm exiled here in London with my gallery and all sorts of fascinating people", he quipped.
Tatiana tried not to giggle. "I suppose that is one way to compensate, Mr. Northwood", she replied.
"Call me Clive, Miss Parker. Just don't call me Sir, I'm not the one with the title", he chuckled.
"What sort of music is playing at your exhibition, Clive? Our sister Olivia likes Dave Brubeck and our younger siblings like the Beatles", said Tatiana.
"The Whitby Four are free jazz, a lot of improvisation. Sort of like Ornette Coleman, Sun Ra type music. That's why I prefer Coltrane's live performances to his records", said Clive.
"I much prefer Charlie Parker and the New York bebop blokes, free jazz is lot of squealing and honking", said Pierre.
"Your loss, mon vieux", Clive retorted cheerfully as the waiter arrived with their food.
After dinner Pierre lit Maria's cigarette and Clive lit Tatiana's cigarette, before the men lit theirs. "The exhibition will start soon, I hope you ladies enjoy it. London has so many brilliant people, I don't know how you can stay up in Manchester", Clive teased.
Pierre exhaled. "My job is there and so is my family. And I'm old, at my age going to art galleries to see avant-garde art and hanging out with beatniks is silly", he said.
"Touche', mon vieux. Hopefully I will be a cool uncle to my nieces and nephews, being the heir to a baron is hard", said Clive.
After their post-dinner cigarettes and paying the bill, Clive led them down the street to his gallery, the Southplain. From the outside, it had a simple appearance in a clean neo-Classical style with its Ionic columns in plaster and plain Georgian façade in white and cream not unlike the other Georgian buildings in the area. Even the lobby was done in cream and white and resembled a sort of hotel lobby but once past the lobby into the main exhibition space they could see it was clearly an artistic place. Around the perimeter of the large open space were various kinds of art, painting, sculpture and even a few dance installations where people in odd clothes demonstrated modern dance techniques. On a tiny raised platform was a jazz quartet consisting of a trumpet, saxophone, upright piano and bassist who played without sheet music, seemingly just improvising their music. Opposite the platform was a small table with cubes of cheese on white plates and several open bottles of wine and glasses where people could help themselves.
"Just go on ahead, everyone here is friendly", said Clive.
Tatiana was alarmed at first when Pierre led Maria towards one of the exhibits. She took a deep breath and poured herself a glass of Pinot Grigio and recalled that Maria was nineteen, not a child. She saw they were gazing at a colorful painting and decided to look around the room. Her first stop was an odd glass sculpture made of heavy, white opaque glass. The squat bottom was pearly white and shaped like a fat tree stump, the glass then branching out into thin brightly coloured strands. "It's my sculpture, Creation. The bottom part is the ether, the branches are creation rising from the ether", said the sculptor, a young woman in jeans and a garishly-colored sarape with long brown braids.
"It's very colorful, Miss", said Tatiana.
"You're not from London, are you? I'm from Suffolk myself", replied the sculptor.
"I'm from Manchester, miss", replied Tatiana.
"Ah yes, up North. I have friends from up North, the art scene up North stinks so they all gravitate to London. Hope you like the rest of the exhibits", said the sculptor.
Tatiana saw that Pierre and Maria were watching one of the dancers so she continued looking around. She found that she preferred this odd sort of jazz to the smoothness of the Dave Brubeck album she'd heard at Ian's house as it wasn't so pretty or predictable, this music very free-flowing and improvisational. Tatiana tried to figure out what came next in the music but was pleasantly surprised that would go off in different directions which one did not expect. She made a mental note to ask Clive about this amazing music.
"So what did you think?", asked Pierre as they got ready to leave.
"Some of the art was pretty, I've never seen such different kinds of art", said Maria.
"I liked the music, it's so different and more interesting than that Dave Brubeck fellow", said Tatiana.
"Free jazz is an acquired taste, Jack likes it. He loves Coltrane and those blokes, I like Coltrane's albums but his live shows are just him improvising one tune for over 45 minutes. I suppose some people like that, but I prefer my music to have order", said Pierre.
"Tessa, it wasn't bad but Pierre is right, music ought to have order", said Maria.
"And the Beatles have order?", Tatiana retorted with a chuckle.
"Sort of, their songs have a beginning and an end. But their music is so fun to dance to and they are funny", said Maria eagerly.
"Soon the whole world will be in thrall to the Beatles", he teased as she laughed.
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Post by ladyfiaran22 on Feb 19, 2023 22:22:56 GMT -5
Chapter 5
"I hope Jack isn't going to be like a grumpy bear and Mollie is going to be tired, imagine flying from Japan to Iran, Iran to Germany, and then England", said Pierre as they went downstairs for breakfast.
"What? I suppose the pilot needs a rest", said Maria pragmatically.
"And Asia is so vast, but it's much faster than a ship since it's only two days compared to a month", said Pierre.
"I understand, it still feels odd to think of an Englishman going to Japan", said Tatiana.
"People go to all sorts of odd places, I know plenty of British people who go on holiday to the continent. And not just posh people, ordinary middle-class people who go to Italy, Greece, Spain or some other place. Flights to the continent can be cheap if you go to the right travel agency", he said.
"There are so many things", Tatiana mused aloud.
The hotel dining room was filling up with guests for breakfast. "Just help yourself", he said.
Tatiana nodded in thanks as the waiter poured them each a cup of coffee, taking hers with just a little sugar and milk. She took a sip of coffee and looked around, seeing mostly families and other very normal folks. The idea of being around all new and different sorts of people both frightened and fascinated her, thinking that in just two days she'd met more interesting people than in the previous twenty-one years of her life.
Tatiana was brought out of her reverie when Maria sat down with a plate of fresh waffles drenched in syrup, strawberries and whipped cream. "The food looks amazing", she enthused.
"All right, but you ought to be watch your waistline", she chided.
"And you need to gain some weight, Tessa. You've always been too thin", said Maria as she dug into her waffles.
Tatiana finished her coffee and walked over to the breakfast buffet. The bacon and sausages in the chafing dishes turned her stomach, the meat glistening with fat and the sausages especially reminding her of ugly little snakes with their shiny fat skins. She was relieved to see boiled eggs, toast and fresh fruit with yogurt as she helped herself and went back to the table. "You don't have to eat as though you're still wearing a corset", said Maria.
"I just don't like greasy things", she replied.
"Jack is the same way, it comes in handy whilst in Japan since they eat so much rice, fish and veg. Skye says fried things aren't good for you, but the British invented fried stuff with chips", said Pierre with a laugh.
They finished breakfast and he hailed a cab outside the hotel. "Heathrow, the international terminal", he told the driver.
The drive to Heathrow took them west out of the city towards the suburbs. The area seemed to consist of dull little towns with prefab houses as the sisters quickly grew bored. Heathrow appeared like a mirage from the dullness of the west London suburbs, the area opening up to reveal a massive parking lot and a modern glass and steel structure which to them resembled a big bird's nest. An eerie continuous roar filled the air as the biggest planes they had ever seen flew above them and landed nearby as the sisters pressed their noses to the window in awe.
The driver let them at the terminal and Pierre paid the fare. "Just stay close and don't get lost", he said.
The interior of the terminal resembled that of the train station except bigger and with more light. Hawkers at booths sold the same kinds of junk food and newspapers and even the squawking over the PA was the same except with planes instead of trains. The international arrivals terminal was built like a sphere with plate glass windows looking out onto the runway and gates. Several big airplanes sat in front of the gates taking on passengers while being loaded with bags, these planes bigger than the Imperial train.
"How many passengers fit on these planes?", asked Maria.
"Depends, on international flights about 200, 250 passengers. Domestic flights within Britain would be about 50 or so", said Pierre.
"I want to go on a plane", Maria declared.
"BOAC Flight #611 from Frankfurt has just landed. Passengers will be disembarking shortly", said the PA.
Right outside the window was a large white plane with the BOAC insignia on the tail. A gate was pushed up against the plane door and within fifteen minutes passengers started to emerge from the gate doors. A handsome man with wavy black hair wearing a pair of grey trousers and a white shirt under a matching sport jacket emerged through the doors, holding the hand of a little girl with long straight black braids and a pink and white gingham dress. He glanced their way and his lips turned up in a smile as Tatiana felt her heart skip a beat. At first he had looked like a business traveler; with that smile, it lit up his face and made his dark blue eyes sparkle.
"Bonjour, mon frere", he said as he hugged Pierre.
"Bonjour et bienvenue at Angleterre, mon frere petit, et Mollinka", said Pierre as the little girl hugged him.
"Bonjour, Oncle Pierre", she replied, her French spoken without their Belgian accent.
"Tessa, Maria, this is my brother Jack and my niece Mollie. Jack and Mollie, this is my girlfriend Maria and her sister Tessa", he said.
"Very glad to meet you, ladies. We've been flying since Monday, we need to rest up or we'll be asleep for the next 48 hours", said Jack.
"Rest up, we're heading up to Blackpool this weekend", said Pierre.
"Ohh, Blackpool is fun. I want to see the fun fair, there's no fun fairs like that in Japan", said Mollie eagerly. Tatiana noticed how unusually pretty the little girl was, her straight black hair and almond-shaped eyes clearly from her Japanese mother. However, her eyes were a brilliant sapphire blue with hints of violet, just like her father and uncle. She then realized that the Lacroix must all have those eyes, as she had never seen that eye color anywhere else.
"Only us Lacroix have those color eyes, Miss Tessa", said Jack.
"How did you..?", she sputtered.
Jack gave her a crooked grin and Tatiana felt faint. "I'm a mind reader, Miss Tessa. And you are better looking than in your portraits", he teased.
Tatiana couldn't help the blush creeping up her neck that turned her normally creamy complexion the color of a blush rose. "Uh, thank you", she whispered.
"Daddy, stop teasing Miss Tessa. She is too pretty", chided Mollie.
"All right, Mollie-Chan. And we ought to rest up", said Jack.
After getting their bags, Pierre led them back outside where he hailed a cab. Almost immediately after getting inside, Mollie fell asleep and Jack nearly did. "We flew from Tokyo to Tehran, Tehran to Frankfurt and Frankfurt to here. We stayed overnight in Frankfurt since our flight from Tokyo was at five in the morning. So bloody tired", he muttered.
"You can rest in the hotel, Mr. Lacroix", said Tatiana.
"Of course. And call me Jack, I'm not that old. And may I call you Tessa, I'm sure you'll do better than that other Tess", he joked.
"Jack, sometimes I swear you're all French instead of just half Waffle-French", Pierre teased.
"Hah, waffle French. And the Froggies are still mad at us, since the Jerries invaded through Belgium. And I spent time in Jerryland", he retorted.
"What's a Jerry?", asked Maria.
"A German, they call us Brits Tommies. We fought them twice, no offense ladies", said Jack.
They arrived back at the hotel and Jack immediately put Mollie to bed, after having her change into a nightgown. "I'll see how long I can stay up, otherwise I'll feel like I have a hangover. You lot can go out", he said.
"All right", agreed Pierre.
"I'll stay with you, Jack", said Tatiana.
Jack gave her that crooked grin and her heart skipped a beat. "I would be honored to have such a lovely companion, Tessa", he drawled.
Pierre and Maria tried not to smile. "All right, mon frère", he said.
Jack carefully set aside his sport jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. Tatiana noticed a flash of red near his elbow and he smiled, rolling up his sleeve to reveal a brilliant tattoo of a fiery red phoenix. "It's beautiful!", she exclaimed.
"Merci, Tessa. It's a phoenix, in Japanese mythology they're symbols of transformation, loyalty and rebirth. I got it done in Singapore during my army service, took ten hours. Don't worry, Hugo removes it before I go on a mission", he replied.
"I see, but doesn't it hurt?", she asked.
"At first when the needle goes in, but you get used to it. Since I'm not a university professor I can get one, and in Japan since I'm a gaijin people don't think I'm a gangster", he chuckled.
"Why would that be?", she asked.
"In Japan, only yakuza have tattoos. Those are gangsters, they also have four fingers on each hand", he replied as she looked horrified.
"I know, as long as you don't get in trouble in Japan you won't see them", he said.
"But they defeated us", she protested.
"And we defeated them in the last war, Tessa. Thankfully the Yanks were good occupation rulers and the Japanese like us Westerners now", he teased.
"People keep on mentioning this war, was there another great war?", she asked.
"Yes, unfortunately. Germany was at it again, a crazy and evil bloke named Hitler became ruler and invaded other countries. He also allied with Japan and Italy and Japan were just as bad in Asia. Plus Hitler and his minions carried out plans to kill all the Jews, Gypsies, homosexuals and handicapped people in their empire, they ended up killing millions of these people. Plus Russia lost 20 million defending against Germany", he said.
Tatiana was speechless. The numbers were so big and made no sense but his tone was serious, so he meant every word. "But how is that possible? With bombs?", she asked.
"Not really, people were sent to camps either to be killed or used as slave labor. British and Soviet troops liberated these camps and camera footage showed everything. It was shown in the cinemas when we were children", said Jack.
Tatiana suddenly felt faint and nauseous. "But, but Britain defeated Germany?", she pleaded.
"We did, with help from the Yanks and Soviets. Hitler committed suicide and we made the Jerries civilized people, the Yanks have bases there now. And Japan was occupied by the US, the Yanks made the emperor say he wasn't divine and made the government modern. The Japanese used to believe that the emperor was descended from the sun goddess Ameterasu. The Yanks made him admit he was human", said Jack.
"But why do you write about Japan and like it so much then?", she asked in confusion.
"Japan isn't all yakuza and barmy German allies, Tessa. There's a brilliant history, the code of bushido, and it's a gorgeous country. Plus the Japanese are temperamentally like Englishmen, I understand that", he chuckled.
"But you're really Polish and Belgian", she teased.
"Half-Belgian, half-Polish and British by the grace of God, Tessa. Isn't your Mum English?", he chuckled.
"Half-English, the German part she'd rather not mention. And I don't want to know I'm part-German myself, I'll just think of myself as an Englishwoman, I imagine being Russian would attract suspicion", she said.
"You guessed right, Tessa. After the war, the Soviets became our enemies again and we've had Brits spying for them. So I wouldn't mention that you speak Russian", said Jack.
"Are we going to Manchester tomorrow?", she asked.
"Yeah, Mollie is eager to see Nicole and Mum and Dad. She spent time with her Mum's family but she misses her British family", he replied.
"When we were in that horrid house, I vowed I would never travel anymore and would stay in place. But now I want to travel", she mused aloud.
Jack chuckled, his blue eyes amused. "It's because you're not shunted along hither and yon, Tessa. You have the choice to stay in one place or to travel, and since you've never seen much, you want to travel. You will travel, you've already been forward in time went to London and met some interesting people. Where do you want to visit?", he asked.
"I've been to Germany, Denmark, Cowes in England, and different parts of Russia. Russia has too many bad memories and we haven't seen much of Britain. Perhaps Japan, or somewhere Oriental. Maybe America", she said.
"We can't go to Russia since the Soviets don't allow people to enter or leave. Britain is lovely, since I'm British after all. Perhaps next year, each year my publisher sends me on a tour of the Orient since my books are popular there. I've been to Japan numerous times, Burma, Singapore, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Korea and the Antipodes. Too bad mainland China is off-limits, it's a Communist country. It would be amazing to see the Great Wall and the Forbidden City, China has a fascinating history", he said.
"I hope the Bolsheviks are defeated once and for all", she said.
"They will be, once people wake up and realize they're ruled y a lot of wankers", he said before he phoned room service for tea. "Think of it as closing an old book and writing a new one. Your family is safe and you'll have the chance to live as normal people. Sort of", he added with a chuckle.
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Post by ladyfiaran22 on Feb 28, 2023 18:51:10 GMT -5
"You are so pretty, Miss Tessa. Our English princesses and the Emperor's wife aren't as pretty", said Mollie as Jack tried to rebraid her hair.
"Thank you, but good looks aren't everything. Many beautiful girls rely on their looks and don't develop intelligence", said Tatiana.
"Are you smart, then? Mummy-san is very smart and Daddy is very smart, Oncle Pierre is very smart. That makes me smart too, right?", asked Mollie.
"I suppose, smart people often have smart children", she replied.
Jack sighed and let go of her hair. "I'm sorry, Mollie-Chan", he said.
"That's cuz you're a guy, Daddy. Daddy's don't do hair", Mollie chided.
Tatiana bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Uh, that's not nice to say, Mollie. Let me try", she said. She untied the messy braid and combed Mollie's glossy black hair before braiding it. Her long slender fingers deftly braided her hair until it was in two long black braids to her waist, shining blue-black in the lamplight.
"You have long pianist fingers, Tessa", he teased. Jack took out his cigarette case, the silver lid containing an enameled red rose crossed with a samurai sword. He offered her a cigarette and lit hers and then his with a silver Zippo lighter. "Regals, just like mon frère. Northern people smoke Regals, Southerners smoke Embassys. In France, we smoke Gauloises. Maybe I'll pick up some at the tobacco shop", he said.
Tatiana took a drag. "These are far better than Russian cigs", she said.
"I suppose they're rubbish, Soviet things are except for their weapons", he replied cynically.
"I don't want to think about it, I bet the Bolsheviks buy lots of weapons but not food", she said bitterly.
"That's what MI6 is saying, we got spies there. People are starving and they have missiles", said Jack in disgust.
"What's a Bolshevik?", asked Mollie.
"They are very bad people, they overthrew our father as king of Russia", said Tatiana.
"They sound mean, Miss Tessa. I hope they don't come to England", said Mollie in fear.
"They won't, Mollie-Chan", said Jack reassuringly, taking one final drag of his cigarette.
"We went to an art exhibition at a gallery last night and I heard the most amazing music, free jazz", said Tatiana as she finished her own cigarette.
"Really? Did Pierre call it squawking and honking?", he teased.
"Yes, but it was lovely and so free-sounding. It was like the musicians were totally improvising, playing by instinct", she said.
"Not quite, but it's about experimenting rather than sticking to the chords, like in big band jazz. It's not bad, my parents liked it, but I prefer spontaneity", he said.
"I like the Beatles", said Mollie.
Jack smiled at his daughter. "They're all right, at least they write and perform their own songs. A lot of pop stars just perform other people's songs, but the lads do write their own songs. And that's a good way to make money in show business, write popular songs and get royalties. That's money you get every time the radio plays your songs, or someone buys sheet music or an album", he explained.
"I'm hungry, Daddy", said Mollie.
"Sorry about that, Mollinka. We'll tell Uncle Pierre and Miss Maria to see if they're hungry", said Jack.
"Is Miss Maria a princess too? She's very pretty", said Mollie.
"Yes, a former princess anyways. We are getting used to not being princesses anymore", said Tatiana.
"I can't wait until Nicole's gran comes back to England, she's in Cyprus. Her gran owns an olive grove in Cyprus and she spends the summers there, she's coming back at the end of August. She makes excellent Greek food", said Mollie.
"We have Greek cousins, our great-aunt married the Greek king. I would love to see Greece", said Tatiana.
"Greece is all right, but that's more Pierre's thing", said Jack.
"Daddy, when are we going to have dinner?", asked Mollie.
Jack smiled apologetically. "Sorry about that, Mollie-Chan. I'll go ask your uncle and Miss Maria", he said.
Mollie looked at Tatiana. "Miss Tessa, are you one of the people Daddy's group saved?", she whispered.
"Yes," she replied.
"I know, Miss Tessa. Daddy's group rescues all sorts of people", said Mollie matter-of-factly.
"What sorts of people?", she asked.
"All sorts, English, Americans. Uncle Ian and Uncle Pierre go back in time too", said Mollie.
"Don't worry, no one can hear us. I cast the spell, the room is sound-proof, I should have told you that earlier", said Jack as he entered the room.
"Really? So people don't hear us at all?", she asked incredulously.
"No, and if we are speaking in public, we change the language. The Lacroix use Walloon, the Torres' Latin, the Sutherlands Anglo-Saxon and the Jarvinens Livonian. And if by some miracle someone understands these languages, the words are completely off-topic", said Jack triumphantly.
"I will get used to it, I will learn what I need", said Tatiana.
"You will, Hugo will tell you what you need to know", said Jack.
The sisters' eyes were wide in delight as they walked down Gerrard Street in Chinatown, the color and bustle so different from any street they had ever seen. The storefronts and restaurants were styled as brilliantly-colored pagodas in bright red and orange light, some of them with stone statues of lions out front. All sorts of Chinese people, young and old, dressed in both modern styles and traditional clothes, were out and about speaking in different Chinese dialects and English while from inside many of the shops came both British and Chinese pop music. The shop windows had displays of clothes, furniture and souvenirs while the restaurants were illuminated with red paper lanterns with hanging carcasses of crispy duck silhouetted in the shadows, the meat brown and glistening with fat.
"That's duck, a traditional dish from Beijing which was a favorite of the emperor's. It's quite lovely", said Jack.
"Our papa's family in Belgium hunt duck and roast them, they also hunt geese for Christmas dinner. I much prefer it to turkey, turkey is too dry", said Pierre.
"What should we order? Is Chinese food very odd?", asked Maria.
"Not at all, unless you specifically ask for something odd", said Pierre.
"This is our favorite in London, the owner's son runs the other one in Manchester", said Jack as he led them inside. The contrast between the coolness of dusk outside and the vibrantly red and gold interior was momentarily jarring but in a pleasant way, giving off a sense of warmth and just a bit of the exotic. The crimson walls were adorned with elegant, graceful golden dragons and in intervals were handsome black and gold paintings of Chinese landscapes which looked light as gossamer. Soft Chinese music came from a radio in the kitchen along with the scent of food as a waiter led them to a booth in the corner.
Pierre ordered for the table and soon the waiter brought over a pot of oolong tea, pouring them each a cup. "You don't have cream or sugar with oolong, you're supposed to drink it plain", Jack explained.
Tatiana carefully lifted the tiny cup without handles and took a sip. "Not bad, but it is smoky", she replied.
"It is, the tea leaves are dried to give them that taste", said Pierre.
"Are you sure you're going to be all right taking Mollie, Pierre?", asked Tatiana after dinner.
"Of course, at my age going to jazz clubs is silly. Besides, that club has the odd new stuff I don't like", said Pierre as him and Jack split the bill.
"The Blue Cat is down the street, it's the best club in London. They have a lot of free jazz and avant garde stuff", said Jack.
"All right, Jack", she replied.
"Don't worry, me and Pierre will take care of Mollie", said Maria reassuringly.
"Yes Daddy, I'm going to listen to the pop show on the radio. I want you to date Miss Tessa so I can have two Mummys", said Mollie.
Tatiana blushed and Maria giggled. "Uh, let's see", said Jack as he tried not to laugh.
"Kids say the darnedest things, Tessa. Mollie wants a Mum in England since her Mum is in Japan, but when I'm working on a book I'm a recluse. And writers aren't as glamorous as film stars or musicians", he said dryly.
"But being a writer requires a lot of imagination. And I'm sure writing an historical novel requires a lot of research", she said.
"It does, but unless someone makes a hit film of my books or I get a knighthood I won't become that famous. And that's the way I like it", he said.
Tatiana nodded in understanding. "I suppose you want to have a cover. How many books have you sold?", she asked.
"Um, each book averages about ten thousand hardcover, fifty thousand paperback in Britain. My British publisher has inked a deal with the American publisher Simon and Schuster to release my books in the US, so we'll see how that goes", he replied.
Jack led them down a set of steps into a basement club as Tatiana looked around. The room was smaller than half of the Mauve Room at the Alexander Palace and dimly lit by tiny lamps topped with red fringed shades and the lights from cigarettes. A tiny stage on one side held an upright piano, two microphones, a stand-up bass and two black cases while the bar on the opposite side was manned by a skinny young man sporting a beret and a goatee.
They found an empty table for two and a waitress immediately came over, her dark hair in a severe pageboy bob with straight bangs topped by a beret. "Two Singapore Slings with Beefeater", he told the waitress.
Several minutes later the waitress arrived with two glasses holding a red drink garnished with cucumber slices. "It's a Singapore Sling, gin with Cherry Heering. Had it for the first time in Singapore during my service", he said.
Tatiana was pleasantly surprised as the drink wasn't as sweet as she feared. Instead, the dryness of the gin tempered the sweetness of the cherry Heering. "Last time I was here, Chet Baker was performing and that was a big disappointment. He was shaking really bad and his playing was so off, sounded like a duck. Ian likes his stuff, but that was when he was sober. Baker is a drug addict", he explained.
"How awful", she replied.
"It is, the bloke could play trumpet lovely, had a fine singing voice and was handsome as a movie star. He got hooked on drugs and ruined his career in the states, he actually went to prison in Italy after he got his wife to smuggle drugs for hm. She was found innocent since she didn't know it was drugs, but he went to prison", said Jack.
"Horrid man", she said in disgust.
"And it gets worse. He had his mistress with him and was flaunting her in front of the cameras, plus his wife just had a baby and the lad is simple. Him and his mistress live out in Surrey with her folks, I heard", he said.
"He is a horrible person", she said in disgust.
"Some of the best artists are complete wankers, pardon my language. I suppose having an artistic temperament means having the personality of the worst sort of wide boy", said Jack with a dry chuckle.
Four young men in baggy gray suits got onstage and the audience became quiet. After a minute of warmup, the group started to play. Tatiana nodded in thanks as Jack lit her cigarette and then his, taking a drag and listening to the group. Her fingertips tapped a beat on the tabletop and she nodded, occasionally closing her eyes to concentrate on the music. After each number there was a round of scattered applause until the next song started, the audience quiet with their drinks and cigarettes. Jack signaled the waitress for another round of drinks and tipped her as she set them down at their table.
Tatiana was pleasantly buzzed when the set ended forty-five minutes later as Jack settled their bill and helped her up from the table. "I always come here when I'm in London, it's just like a jazz club in Paris", he said.
"What is Paris like?", she asked.
"Big, crowded. And French people in Paris are wankers, pardon the language. I suppose it's from living in the capital, posh Paris folks are twats. I much prefer the north of France, it's similar to Belgium. Our French is similar and the people are very friendly, plus the weather is similar to England", he replied.
Jack led her out of the club and took her hand. Tatiana tried to control the blush creeping up her neck at the contact as Jack gave her a knowing smile. "I suppose you've never held hands before", he said.
"No, Mama didn't want us getting too friendly with men. We could flirt a little, but no touching. Is this common now?", she asked.
"Yes, young people go on dates unsupervised. Only chaperones are for dances or teenagers, or they date in a big group of kids. That's in Europe and the US, I'm sure in other countries it's different", he replied.
"I see. Skye sys people live together before they marry", she said.
"Yeah, but that's mostly university students and such. Some bohemian types live together but never get married, most wouldn't do that. It's a bohemian, artist thing", he said.
"There's so much to learn, everything has changed", she murmured.
"For better or worse?", he teased.
"Both. But we'll adjust, we already been through so much", she replied.
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