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Austin Macauley Publishers - Ceridwen Rees

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138 pages

English

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Susie Jones, a nineteen-year-old modern languages student takes herself off on an Inter-Rail trip around Europe. Alone, but only briefly; on a hot August day in Amsterdam, Susie meets a group of individuals. Falling under the spell of Richard Winters, a charismatic and influential member of the group, Susie is enticed away, to live with the group in Amsterdam. Susie becomes hopelessly and unwittingly involved in the group's secret life of political protests and anarchy. As the group travel perilously through Europe, Susie senses danger every step of the way and when confronted with a life-changing event, is faced with an impossible decision. The group is thrown into turmoil and Susie fears that she will never see Richard again. Resolved to achieve the seemingly impossible, Susie is besieged with heartbreak and recurring nightmares and fears that she will never see her dreams come true.

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Adventure (Guyana)

Adventure

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Publié par	Austin Macauley Publishers
Date de parution	30 mars 2018
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781528908252
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0175€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Dangerous Places
Ceridwen Rees
Austin Macauley Publishers
2018-03-30
Dangerous Places About the Author Copyright Information © Chapter 1 The dream Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28
About the Author
Ceridwen Rees was brought up in rural Wales, married a journalist but has now returned and lives in the Brecon Beacons National Park.
Copyright Information ©
Ceridwen Rees (2018)
The right of Ceridwen Rees to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781785543548 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781785543555 (Hardback)
ISBN 9781528908252 (EBook)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2018)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd.
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Printed and bound in Great Britain
Chapter 1 The dream
Susie was running up endless staircases, knowing that she had to get there before it was too late. Round and round went the marble stairs with their elaborate tracery, clearer than ever before. Groups of people were coming down, but she pushed through them without hesitation. This time there were doors at the top of the stairs, and she burst through the crowds, searching for Richard. In a vast hall, marble again, with chandeliers hanging from the domed roof, a fountain sent up clouds of spray, or it might have been smoke. Waves of heat and something else, perhaps fear. A bell was chiming. Noise from the crowds, screams and now shots being fired. They had never used guns. She was beside Richard, calling his name over and over as he dropped down beside a pillar; holding him close as he smiled and closed his eyes. Blood soaked through his shirt and hers. “Richard, Richard”, she called desperately, and wept.
Bells, not Italian. Her arms were empty. Time to wake up.
* * *
1970. Susie was nineteen years old, a student of modern languages, seeing Europe on an Inter-Rail ticket. She had thick fair hair, blue eyes and a dreamy expression; people were usually nice to her and she had trailed happily round the Continent with her rucksack for three weeks. Susie didn’t mind being alone; in her experience, someone always turned up when she wanted them to. One afternoon, she was sitting in the Dam Square in Amsterdam. It was a hot August day and she was sharing a canned drink with a girl called Hanna. Hanna was a German girl whom she had met in the hostel the previous night, who wanted to tell everyone her views on life, politics and the environment. Soon, they were at the centre of a discussion, with Hanna holding forth and Susie lazily dropping in a word sometimes, though her conversational German was not very good. The sun was blazing down, and as Susie sat up and straightened her back, she had to put up a hand to shade her eyes. Among the people sitting or lying around were three young men and a girl, who were arguing with Hanna: a serious dark girl, a lavishly vocal red-haired youth and two tall, thin ones. One of them seemed a little apart, as though he were listening to something else.
Susie was getting tired of Hanna’s vehemence, and allowed him to catch her eye briefly. It was only for a split second, but she got the full force of something she had not bargained for. It was as though she had just had a sudden slap in the face, most disconcerting and she looked away, trying to think about the other people. How had Hanna come to be such a bossy-boots? Where did the red-haired one come from? Not Germany or Holland, though he spoke German. Hanna must come from a family who all talk at the tops of their voices and never listen to each other. It is time , Susie thought, to slide away quietly , and she got her rucksack settled.
“Your eyes are beginning to glaze over,” murmured an English voice in her ear. Susie stiffened. The young man had edged round till he was close behind her. “Would you like a cup of tea? I know a place just round the corner. This lot will still be here in half an hour. Oh, come on!”
It occurred to Susie that perhaps she could ditch Hanna painlessly in this way and a cup of tea never committed anyone. Perhaps she had imagined part of what she had seen. “All right,” she said, getting up. Hanna did not notice, but there was a look, almost of alarm, from the dark-haired girl. “But this is a jeweller’s, not a tea-shop”, said Susie a few minutes later.
“All the same, you can get a good cup. Just up those stairs – here”.
It was a pleasant, old-fashioned room with a long table and chairs, and casement windows overlooking the street. The young man went out through another door, saying “Just a minute”, and Susie opened a window and looked out, thinking that she could always scream through it if the worst happened.
“That’s right, always make sure of your exit,” said her companion, reappearing with a tray. “The kettle doesn’t take long.”
“Do you live here?”
“No, but I drop in sometimes. If you take off your sack, you can sit down.” He spoke casually, not looking at her, and Susie thought she might as well sit down and be comfortable.

A few minutes later, he was back with the tea and a packet of chocolate biscuits. Susie, hungry as well as thirsty, ate and drank gratefully. They considered each other. He saw a rather pretty girl, her fair skin childishly freckled. It was the steady, direct gaze of her eyes that held him. Too honest for me? He wondered. She turned her head to look round the room, and he saw only the line of head and shoulder as she moved.
Susie found it difficult to get a clear picture of him and yet she would never mistake him for anyone else. He seemed not much older than she was, young enough to play at being someone different. Tallish, dark, thin, but a face that was hard to fix in the mind. Only the bright, dancing eyes – Susie blushed slightly and helped herself to another biscuit.
“Alright?” he asked, with a serious face, but laughter at the back of his voice.
Susie looked at him cautiously. The eyes were subdued now, as though curtains were drawn.
“Yes, thanks”, she said. “But I still don’t understand. How is it that you can let yourself in and use this place?”
“A business arrangement. Nothing criminal, you know. But it’s convenient to be able to slip in and out sometimes.”
“What sort of business?” Susie asked out of politeness and for something to say, but he hesitated.
“It’s a bit complicated, but I’ll tell you all about it later, I hope. By the way, I’m Richard Winters.”
“Susie Jones.”
“Susie. That’s nice.” There was a brief flash from the grey eyes. “One thing I sometimes do is to carry diamonds about, like these.” He tipped the contents of a small bag on to the table. The stones, unset but polished made a river of light on the dark wood.
“Lovely,” said Susie politely. “Only I think I’d like them better if they weren’t so expensive.”
Richard gave a sudden shout of laughter. “I mean,” Susie tried to explain, “It’s difficult to see them for what they are and not think about what they cost.”
“Not really a diamonds girl, are you, Susie?”

“No, not my style,” Susie agreed.
“Nor mine, apart from carrying them round for Johan.” He put them away again and Susie said, “Thank you very much for my tea”.
“We might as well finish the biscuits. Look, one each.” He offered her the plate.
“Alright”.
Suddenly he said, “Sometimes we do things that aren’t very legal.”
“Oh?” Said Susie doubtfully.
“We have good reasons for everything we do.”
“Well, that’s all right, then. You don’t kill people?”
“No. Does that make a lot of difference?”
“Of course. Things are only things, but people can get hurt and I don’t like that.”
“Good. Will you have dinner with me tonight, Susie?”
“I’ve nothing tidy to wear, only my jeans,” Susie hedged. “Besides…”
“We’ll go somewhere suitable, I promise. Look, shall I see you in the Dam, say about seven?”
“Well,” Susie looked at her watch. “I’m supposed to be catching a train to Denmark later tonight.”
“But you could stay another night, couldn’t you? I’d like to show you our house tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, well, yes. All right, thanks. I’d better get back to the hostel now.” Susie felt slightly guilty about taking a free meal and then probably ditching the acquaintance. Still, having to pay for another bed night instead of sleeping on the train would cancel that financially and she had told him what she intended.
So they had a meal in an Indonesian restaurant, not one of the grander ones, but good.
“You can speak Dutch,” said Susie. “Even my German is pretty feeble.”
“Dutch isn’t difficult if you know German and English, and if you can get people to speak it to you. My mother is German and I was partly brought up in Germany, so it’s not hard for me. What languages do you speak, Susie?”

“French, I suppose. I do know a fair bit of German, but I’m not used to speaking it, which is pretty poor when I’m supposed to be doing modern languages.”
“Where are you doing them? Do you like it there? I was at Oxford for a year till my father died and I went off the rails.”
“Which college? Oh, I know some people there. We live just outside Oxford. Yes, I’ve got two sisters; they are married, but they’re still around a good deal. My mum and dad both teach.”
“My mother works in a clinic in Germany. I was at th