STEPS

CHAPTER THREE A secret

I was there yet without warning everything was displaced around me. Perhaps the ambience, the season, the familiar act... Somehow I was transported to those soldiers, the small tavern in the midst of another winter. Long ago, the air thick with smoke and condensation, the music sombre, songs of missing home, loves just beginning. Eight years old again and living in the corner house opposite the tavern. The young soldiers from the nearby base - some very far from home - becoming my minders until my parents returned from work. Feeding me hot, rough-cut chips and lemonade, coaxing me to sing along...

I liked those young soldiers. I felt safe, surrounded by their laughter and their music. Outside it was cold, but in the small square room the fireplace spread glowing heat, the impromptu dancing added warm sweat. Singing and drunken conversations released heavy breaths full of loneliness and longing.

That particular day a truck pulled up. He entered, scanning the room until his eyes found me. He nodded. I shook my head, crouching lower in the rough thatched chair, white knuckles gripping the sides. He nodded again, looking insistent, I'd have reckoned uncomfortable, if I'd had the capacity to interpret his stance back then.

The three soldiers at my table by the window shared questioning looks. One of them extracted a cigarette from the soft packet. Tap tap. Some quiet words transpired and the three soldiers visibly relaxed. He extended his hand, thick lips smiling benignly. I heard him say he'd come to take me to my mother. I shook my head again, eyes round, incomprehension keeping me tethered to the chair. He insisted, lifting me gently, soft voice cajoling.

"Come, your mother's waiting."

The soldiers smiled, misinterpreting my reluctance. Expressed fond goodbyes:

"See you again soon little Elsa!"

He helped me climb into the truck parked out the front. My head turned back, seeing the soldiers swiping at the foggy window, offering cheerful waves. The smell of sewerage in the cabin offensive, my nose twitching in response as it soon replaced the usual comforting odors of sweat, alcohol, tobacco and hot chips.

The road was unfamiliar. I knew the way to the store, down along the main street. Orange and grapefruit trees lined the pavements. Sometimes I'd walk a short distance, picking up ripe oranges fallen off the trees.

This wasn't the right direction. I stared puzzled as thinning houses gave way to groups of trees and then rocks, the town soon behind me, removed from sight.

He was silent, concentrating on the now winding and narrow unsealed road. Sitting upright, hands in my lap holding a hanky, I dared not look at him, only the countryside gliding by.

His right hand extended and enfolded mine. Perhaps an attempt to reassure me, for I was frightened now, nervously twisting the hanky round and round.

"Don't be scared, my little one," his throaty voice told me, at last bringing the truck to a stop atop a remote hill.

We were alone. I scanned the surrounds for other cars, other people. I saw only grey sky, a cold wind flattening the few bushes scattered amongst the large rocks. I squirmed when the engine rattled and stopped, I fidgeted more, smoothing out my short dress worn over red tights. The hanky sweaty, the white cotton greyed somewhat by my constant twisting.

He slid across. His lips close to my mouth, his breath hot, smelling of cigarettes and garlic. I flinched then, began to tremble. Told him I wanted to go home. Told him I was scared, but my voice was soft, mouth quivering. He reassured me again, his voice hoarse, his new words deeper in tone.

"I will not hurt you, I like you," he said over and over. "I like you, my little one..."

One hand dropped to my knees, and he began to lift my hem higher, as I clamped down in turn, trying to keep my dress from rising. I pushed against the door, seeking space between us. He persisted, shuffling closer still along the bench seat. He seemed bigger somehow, his frame taking up most of the confined space. I feared he was going to breathe all the air, leaving none for me. I tried to take a full breath but I couldn't do it. Only shallow, quick gasps.