Chapter 33

In fact, things were looking up for Carl and Lydia. Despite the language difference, Carl and the garage owner had discovered their shared passion for engines and Carl had spent several hours happily machining a special flywheel – heavy on the edge but light towards the centre - for his new friend’s restoration project – some sort of vintage racing car Lydia had never seen but which might have been an early Jaguar. She just knew it had leather seats but did not have a CD player. Whistling quietly to himself as he worked with lathe and micrometer, Carl exuded absorbed contentment that infected Lydia sitting in the corner of the workshop. More important, the garage owner had often worked on Marianna’s cousin’s car and knew the family well. It seemed he was some sort of relative, a second cousin or something like that. To their huge relief, he had brushed aside a couple of unwanted enquiries from sinister looking men who wanted to know about Carl and Lydia, the reasons for their presence in Pogradec and the basis of their interest in Marianna. Peter, the garage owner, had sent the questioners about their business without telling them anything except that he was repairing the truck owned by tourists visiting the region. Initially he was just as reluctant to answer Carl’s and Lydia’s questions about where the family was now but Lydia kept probing.

“You have a family, don’t you, Peter? How old are your children? Where do they go to school? What are they good at? So, if the boys will join you in the business, what about the girls? Really! That’s good. Can they do that in Albania or will they have to leave? What will happen if you don’t have enough money for university? Yes, but if the bank won’t give you a loan and you have to borrow it privately, won’t you put yourself in the power of these people who are after Marianna? I know it’s difficult, Peter, but we have to try to stop this if we can, don’t you think? You know, don’t you, that if you tolerate this, then your children will be next.” Eventually, after half a day of gentle but unremitting pressure from Lydia, Peter cracked and told her where Marianna and her mother were hiding. Lydia hugged him. When the wheel nuts arrived, Peter would not accept payment saying that Carl had more than earned them through his work on the car. On his advice they set out at first light in the opposite direction to Marianna’s secret location and drove for an hour towards Tirana, then stopped for half an hour to allow any following traffic to pass them. When they left the main road and headed back towards Pogradec, they stopped twice near main junctions with clear views of the road behind them so as to make sure they were not followed. It was still early when they swooped back into town and startled Marianna’s mother in her nightdress. They almost snatched a still frightened Marianna and her clothes and headed straight for the border with Macedonia, pausing, as before, on high ground and at intersections to make sure they were not being followed. They arrived gratefully in Sofia in late afternoon and left Marianna, still bemused at the suddenness of her escape, in the care of Deborah’s father, to collect her visa from the British Embassy and travel to London. After a night’s rest they headed north again, driving in turns past the edge of the Transylvanian Alps and without stopping except to refuel until they entered Hungary. Over the border they stopped for two days in a quiet campsite. They needed a break and Lydia needed to eat. She had lost nearly three kilos in less than a week. They planned to reward themselves with a leisurely trip home and expected Marianna to arrive in the UK before they did which was just as well as things would be crowded in the little, terraced house in South Croydon.