This is the eleventh part of a fiction serial, in 793 words.
When Helen returned with a large soup bowl full of cornflakes, I was pleased to see that she had got dressed. Well, not exactly dressed, but she was wearing a knee-length cable-knit cardigan buttoned up, and some thick socks that reached her knees.
“I had these drying in the bathroom, Martin. Sorry about earlier. Now, on with Bulgaria. My target, according to Clive, was a Bulgarian interpreter named Desislava Todorov. She had come to notice at some meetings in Sofia, and Clive had information that she was interested in living in the West. As she could speak Russian and English, she had been used in many meetings, and she was going to take part in the trumped-up trade talks in Burgas that summer. Hendricks was sure she would be privvy to lots of information about naval activity on The Black Sea. Do you want to take your coat off?”
It was cold in the house that morning, and I had left my topcoat on after sitting down. I shook my head.
“Oh well, up to you. Anyway, I got to know Burgas before the sheduled meetings, and Clive had given me some information about Todorov. She was almost forty years old, divorced with no children, and during her time in Sofia she had been something of a socialite, appearing at functions, and being seen in clubs around the city. Due to meetings being rescheduled, I didn’t get to meet her until the end of August. It was a fiercely hot day, and the meeting room was only cooled by two fans. I was sweating like a racehorse before the Bulgarian delegation arrived. Then I looked up and there she was. Cool, calm, collected, and stunningly attractive”.
When she paused to spoon in four huge mouthfuls of cornflakes, I watched as the milk dribbled down her chin and onto the cardigan. She carried on without bothering to wipe her face, and the remaining cornflakes swirled around in her mouth like washing in a spin-drier as she spoke.
“It was hard to concentrate on my translation that afternoon. Every time I looked across the table, Desislava was staring at me. When she caught my eye, she smiled, and that made me feel a bit silly and girly. By the time the meeting was over, I had a big crush on her, believe me. On the way out, she put a hand on my shoulder. She said she was pleased to meet me, was looking forward to the next two days of negotiations, and that I should call her Desi. That night, my head was in a whirl. I had never been attracted to a woman in that way before, and it confused me totally”.
Then Helen raised the bowl to her mouth and tipped it up, to get the last of the remaining milk and cornflakes. Before speaking again, she let out a loud belch, and rubbed her chest.
“Sorry about that. For the next two days, I felt like I was in a dream. Desi and I kept grinning at each other across the table, and she was playing a game of not interpreting exactly what was being said by our side. I did some of that too, and it became our shared secret. Both of us knew that it was all nonsense anyway, as the whole pointless exercise had been set up to get us to meet each other. During the afternoon break on the Friday, Desi was outside speaking to me as we smoked cigarettes. She said that one of the Bulgarian men had asked her about me, and told her he wanted to take me on a date. That made us laugh, as the man in question was well over sixty, and weighed about twenty stones. Then she suggested I meet her that evening, and she would take me to a jazz club in a run-down part of Burgas. Of course, I agreed immediately”.
Standing up and carrying her bowl back into the kitchen, she asked if I wanted anything. I told her no, and put the charging cable into the camera to make sure the battery didn’t die on me. She came back with a tumbler full of vodka, and a fresh packet of cigarettes.
“We had such fun at the club. It was mostly outside because of the heat. Only the bar and toilets were in the small inner room. A couple of dozen others were sitting around at the tables, and records being played inside were audible on a speaker fixed to the wall outside. I got a bit drunk, and Desi got me up to dance with her”. Helen paused to light a cigarette, then gave me a knowing look.
“Luckily for me, they played a slow song”.
Oh yes, cornflakes and vodka are a great composition. What a wonderful character. 😉 xx Michael
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Thanks, Michael. I am very fond of Helen.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Reblogged this on NEW BLOG HERE >> https:/BOOKS.ESLARN-NET.DE.
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What a life she has led!
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It was certainly exciting. So far.
Best wishes, Pete.
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So far? Oh, I’m ready for what’s next. Best to you, Pete.
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I like this shift from from an expected (my expectations) complications between her handlers and target to Desi ~ this seems a warmhearted moment, briefly forgetting that it is/has entered a more high risk part of the business. Enjoying this very much 🙂
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Thanks, Dalo. You judged the mood nicely. What seem like happier times are perhaps an illusion.
Best wishes, Pete.
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she has an amazing capacity for food and drink
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She does indeed, at least while she is talking to Martin. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Helen…cornflakes and vodka…no wonder she belches. Ha!
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Yes, not a good combination, Pam. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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No hurry, but as FR I wonder how she ended up as she is. Warmest regards, Theo
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It is fully explained later, Theo. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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(1) On with the knee-length cable-knit cardigan! On with the thick knee-high socks! On with Bulgaria! On with the comments! (I think I’m on to something. Or maybe just on something?)
(2) My understanding is that “navel activity” involves cutting a baby’s umbilical cord after birth.
(3) Desislava is not a particularly heavy socialite.
(4) Horses always sweat before the Bulgarians arrive. It began with a Madara Rider who hoped to spear a lion.
(5) Marine biologists find electric eels, torpedo rays, African freshwater catfish, and elephant-nose fish to be stunningly attractive.
(6) “He said he was pleased to meet me, was looking forward to the next two days on the set of ‘Too Many Girls,’ and that I should call him Desi.” (Lucille Ball)
(7) “That night, my head was in a whirl.” (Regan MacNeil)
(8) Why couldn’t they have built the jazz club in the walk-up part of Burgas instead of the run-down part? There’s a great view of the Black Sea from the higher elevation!
(9) “I got a bit drunk,” said Helen as she guzzled the vodka.
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6) You didn’t let me down with a Desi Arnaz comment, David! 🙂
9) She no longer gets drunk at all, even on two bottles of vodka a day.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Great chapter. I can’t wait to see what happens next.
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Thanks very much, Molly. Glad you enjoyed it.
Best wishes, Pete.
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I hope poor Martin does well out of this, after all she’s putting him through!
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That remains to be seen, Carolyn. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Sounds like she’s lived the life of 10 women at least, lol.
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She was making the most of an unusual opportunity, Stevie. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Blimey again….this is getting very curious
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Curiouser and curiouser? Perhaps, Sue.
Best wishes, Pete.
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She’s had an interesting life so far, wonder why she’s ended up as she has.
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It will be revealed in due course, FR.
Best wishes, Pete.
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