A Wild Rose

17 - Moving abroad

Chapter 17

Moving abroad

Most of the train travelling was me with my face buried into George's arm. Crying. Most of the time I just pretended I was asleep. Out of the corner of my eye, I could often see people staring, and someone every now and then asked if I was alright. They accepted it when George told them I was sleeping, though.

Everything was a pain and confusion running through my entire body. I couldn't think properly. My mind was channelling too many thoughts at once, concentrating on one in particular for a mere few seconds before moving on. I couldn't keep up with my own thoughts. It was like it was a pathway, and this pathway then split off into different directions. Only, each direction only led to a dead end, or to some other terrible fate.

"Ada, we're here." George muttered, nudging me slightly. I had to do the whole waking up act, quickly getting rid of the last evidence of my tears. He took me by the hand, and led me out, towards all the signs that pointed to the harbour. We were to go on a ferry. "Ok, this is what we're doing." he lent over so that he was murmuring in my ear. "So, before cars get onto ferry, people have time to get out and get fresh air. We have to pretend to be one of those people, ok? Then we go round, finding all the lorry drivers we can. If you get the right ones, they'll take you over, for the right price."

"And if you get the wrong sort of one?"

"You walk away, quickly."

It was busy when we got there, which meant we could blend in easily. We just looked like a normal couple roaming around. A normal couple. No royal duties, or secrets to hide, or nations of people to deal with. Just a normal couple.

So we did go around, and a few times we did have to walk away, quickly. But it wasn't long before one driver accepted, considering the amount of money we could offer. George had made sure to take out about three thousand from his account, before Alexander found some way of blocking it. He had then exchanged that for euros.

The easy bit was getting in the back discreetly. The harder part was keeping quiet.

George's injuries seemed to be catching up with him. Having full on run and fought just after he had received the blows, George had given himself no chance to recover. Which meant they were getting worse every second. He lay on the ground moaning, whilst I did everything I could to staunch blood flows and bandage bruises, using whatever spare fabric I had.

The whole time my hands were trembling, and I had to pull away quickly when I jerked too suddenly and hit his wounds. I would whisper a sorry, and then continue slowly.

Soon I had done all I could, and we had to remain still. Every now and then George would whisper a reminder that I was to keep him silent if he found his injuries caused to shout. There was no occasion for me to do so, however. George stayed as quiet as a sleeping baby.

There was a tortured hour of waiting before we finally seemed to stop, and a gap of light flooded through the back of the lorry. It was me who had to crawl over to talk to the driver.

"The passengers have emptied out of the parked area." he said quietly. "You can talk now, and maybe roam a little. But I suggest not going as far as a metre from the lorry."

"Ok. Thank you." I said, before it shut once more, and near darkness engulfed us.

Crawling back over to George, I shook his arm gently. He stirred a little, looking at me. When I saw the way his eyes widened with expectation, his head lifting a little, his whole body shifting into a position that suggested chance, hope, I could twitch a smile at how wonderful it was to have a chance to live my life with him. Not long enough to make the scene feel anything like happy, though.