CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Reunion

Greg was working under the boat one day after Christmas when Mary came rushing out of The Cabin and shouted to him, ‘Greg, come quickly. You’re not going to believe this.’

Greg ran to join Mary, who had the phone in her hand.

With the other hand over the mouthpiece she told him that when she had answered the call a female voice had said, ‘This is Natasha. I have come to see Mary.’ Mary had asked where she was and she had replied that she was in a car outside the main gates of the yard with her husband.

Greg did a quick think and told her to say that they would look for the keys and be at the gate in a few minutes. This she did and turned to Greg.

‘What do you think?’ he said to Mary.

‘I think this really is Natasha.’

‘Tell her to wait where she is and close the call.’

Greg then grabbed the phone from Mary and dialled David’s home number. David answered, but before he could finish his seasonal greetings Greg told him what had happened.

‘Well, don’t keep them waiting out in the cold, old man.’ And as Greg started to explain that he suspected a trick he was interrupted: ‘It was supposed to be a surprise. Everything is above board, I assure you. Don’t spoil it for them.’

Greg pushed the phone into Mary’s hand.

‘Have a word with David,’ he said as he grabbed the main-gate keys from the hook and shot out of the door. He ran past the yard offices and No.1 Shed and headed for the gate. Outside was a silver Mercedes.

As he approached the ironwork gates a female figure emerged from the back of the vehicle. Yes, it was indeed Natasha, now smartly dressed, her dark hair down to her shoulders and curled under in pageboy style. She was almost unrecognisable compared with how he had seen her last, radiant and happy as she ran toward him. Greg fiddled with the lock and opened the gate. She stepped forward and grabbed him in a hug.

‘Well, well!’ was all Greg could think to say.

A tall elegant man with a mass of black hair flecked with grey and a Stalin-like bushy moustache then alighted from the back of the car. Natasha introduced her husband. He firmly clasped Greg’s proffered hand.

‘We have much for to thank you.’ His English, near perfect, only just betrayed his Russian origins.

‘I will open the gate fully to let the car through,’ said Greg, ‘and take you to our home just round the corner.’

‘No, no,’ said the Russian. ‘Carl will wait here outside.’

He gave a signal to the driver, who proceeded to turn the car round in the road. The two Russians followed as he led them round the yard to The Cabin. Mary was waiting anxiously at the door. Natasha saw her. They ran to meet, arms outstretched to embrace and quietly call each other’s names. The Russian girl’s husband joined in and Mary was smothered by both of them muttering their thanks. All were smiling as Mary ushered them up the steps into the saloon. Divested of their topcoats, they settled into the seating.

‘I never thought I’d see this day,’ said Mary, her eyes moist.

‘Not me too,’ said Natasha in her faltering English with a broad smile.

Greg intervened: ‘Mary, my love, I made you a promise. Remember?’

Mary looked thoughtful.

‘We have new names now,’ said Natasha’s husband, ‘and until our American citizenship is complete we can only travel outside America with personal bodyguard. We must be very careful to who we tell our names. You, of course, we may trust. We are booked into hotel as Mr and Mrs Theodore Roberts. We say we are on holiday, and on business, from United States. My wife is now Natalie and I am Theo. Carl Shultz, our driver, is also officially my personal assistant, and has his own room next to ours at hotel. He is bodyguard. We have American passports. We have much we wish to tell you. Will you be our guests for dinner tonight at hotel and then we tell our story - as much as we are allowed?’

Greg looked at Mary for approval.

‘Why, yes, that would be lovely, wouldn’t it, Greg?’ she said.

He nodded agreement.

The Russian continued: ‘We at Imperial Hotel, Torquay. Carl will call for you at seven o’clock, OK?’

Then Greg and Mary looked at each other in amusement as they realised they had both forgotten something. As Greg was about to speak Mary leaned forward and put the forefingers of both her hands on his lips.

‘Natasha - sorry, Natalie’ - she said, ‘wait here a moment.’

She winked at Greg and made for the baby’s room. She returned with their son bundled up in a soft blanket, still asleep.

She sat down next to Natasha and whispered, ‘Meet Alexander.’

The Russian girl’s eyes filled; a tear rolled down one cheek as she looked at the baby.

‘May I hold him?’ she murmured.

Then as she held the little bundle she gently swayed from side to side as more tears welled up.

In lowered tones Mary spoke close to Natalie’s ear: ‘I made you a promise on the boat that night.’ A little louder, she explained that they would have to phone their babysitter about the possibility of going out that evening.

Natalie’s husband intervened: ‘Please. We have dinner in private apartment. You bring baby with you. Yes?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Mary.

She was overjoyed at the thought of not leaving her baby behind, and it would have been very short notice for Flossie.

Before the Russians left they repeated how important it was to remember their new names, Theodore and Natalie Roberts, not Natasha. Carl Shultz would come back to collect them at seven o’clock. As they stepped outside, Natalie noticed the yacht on wooden railway sleepers next to The Cabin. She read the name on the stern. She grabbed her husband’s arm.

‘Look. There is boat that save my life.’ she cried.

Theo looked amazed. ‘So small. You sail from France to England?’

‘Now you see how brave these Englanders.’ Was her reply as she linked her arm through her husband’s.

Greg led them back to the gate where the car was waiting.

‘We have very much tell when you come for dinner,’ Natalie said as they entered the waiting car.

Carl gave Greg a wave as they drove away.

Mary and Greg were as one as they shared the enormous surprise and pleasure of this reunion. They dug out their best clothes and the carrycot for Alexander, along with all his needs for the evening. They made themselves ready for collection by Carl. He was early and so were they when he called on his phone to say he was outside the gate.

Carl accompanied them in the lift up to the private suite high on the hill overlooking Torquay and the harbour. The tall Russian greeted them.

Natalie led Mary to the bedroom, where the baby would be comfortable in his carrycot. With the door ajar he would be heard if he woke or needed attention. The suite was sumptuous. From the bar in the living room they were invited to choose their drinks. It was clear to Greg that they had been treated generously by their new American hosts. Mary said how much she wanted to know all that had happened to them. They chose from the menu offered and Theodore phoned the order to the restaurant manager for serving an hour later.

Then he addressed Mary and Greg: ‘It gives us more pleasure than anything that happen to us since we flee to West, to see you and tell full story how you save our lives.’

He raised his glass and looked to his wife; she did likewise.

‘We salute two kind and brave people who give us new life. We also have to thank your friend, whose real name we now know is David.’

They sipped from their glasses and lowered them to the table.

‘David, who arrange this meeting today, say we need keep no secrets from you. He say you took big risk for us. May we tell you all that happen?’

Greg nodded and Mary was quick to say, ‘Of course, of course.’

‘Please, I get you another drink. You tell them, Mllaya Moyna, my sweet, sweet wife. It was you they save.’