Too Pretty For The Hills Read online

  ''I’m afraid there isn’t another service today. But if you’re here for a confession, I'll be right with you.''

  Sitting on the steps of the church stairs was a man who, based on his attire, was obviously the vicar. He was smoking a cigarette and eating a pickle and mayonnaise sandwich. He appeared quite young and had a boyish face with a severely underdeveloped jaw and a thin beard growth. One could easily have taken him for an altar boy had it not been for his suit and a ferocious case of balding, that had eaten away most of his hair.

  ''Good day, Father. No, I’m just passing by, never mind me.''

  ''It’s hard not to mind such a fine-looking young woman,'' the pastor smiled. He wiped mayonnaise off his lips and looked at the St. Bernard, who immediately took the opportunity to lie down. ''I know this dog. It’s Adolf, isn’t it?''

  ''It is, yes. I'm taking him for a stroll. I'm the Dietrichs’ new nanny.''

  ''Is that a fact? Haven’t seen them in church for months now. I thought you must be new around here. Granted, most young people don’t visit the church anyway these days, but in a small town like this, everyone knows everyone.''

  A tall man wearing a baseball cap suddenly appeared from among the poplars and murmured a greeting to the vicar as he jogged past and disappeared on the other side of the park.

  Well,'' the vicar said to Dora, putting the last of the sandwich into his mouth, smacking his lips and wiping his right hand on his suit, ''I best be getting back inside. I have a technician here working on the organ. Some joker spilled something sticky in one of the pipes and it’s sounded funny ever since.''

  Dora shook her head. ''Some people.''

  ''Indeed. But,'' he added with a sudden enthusiasm, ''do come by for a visit if you can manage. We don’t get many charming young ladies around here.''

  He winked at her and it crossed Dora’s mind that this servant of the Lord might have a few lingering worldly interests. But as she listened to his reassuring voice, her concerns faded.

  ''Forgive them father, for they know not what they do. Ah yes, and as for you ...'' he said, standing up and waving his cigarette at the dog. ''You be leaving the church’s flowers alone now, you hear? If you go digging them up again, God may forgive you, but I certainly won’t!''

  ''I see he has a reputation.''

  ''That he does. Goes around at night and causes mischief. Quite the little sinner, this one. Why if it were possible, I’d take him up to confession, but I'm pretty sure he would just poop in there and keep his sins to himself, so let’s leave it at you keeping a keen eye on him, shall we?''

  Dora forced a chuckle, unsure as to whether she should reward such uncouth humor from a vicar.

  ''Well, so long, father. Greta insisted I tire out this lazy beast so I best be moving on.''

  ''Of course, you do that...Oh, wait a second.'' He stepped toward her and made a cross over her forehead with the hand he was holding the cigarette in. ''You have a blessed day, Dora.''

  She started to move away, but then almost immediately paused, wincing and raising her eyebrows.

  ''How did you know what my name was?''

  ''Well you told me, didn’t you?''

  ''Did I?''

  ''You did, yes.''

  Now she was confused. She could have sworn she hadn't introduced herself. But the vicar only smiled at her, nodding.

  As she was leaving, forcing lazy Adolf to follow on her heels, she sneaked a quick peek over her shoulder. The vicar was still standing on the steps, following her with his eyes.

  ''Weird,'' she mumbled.

  She exited the park and continued on her aimless stroll, all the while mulling over whether she had actually told the vicar her name or not. She concluded that she must have – how would he know it otherwise?

  Going about the village, she encountered a number of colorful country people, who seemed to fit perfectly into the mountain scenery. An almost Amishesque community, it looked like the residents didn’t care much for spare time. If they weren’t moving the lawn, they were attending their bees, working on their cars, fixing their roofs, or putting hot pies out on the window ledges to cool.

  ''Maybe they’ve enacted some labor law and those who don’t measure up have to move out of town,'' she jokingly mumbled to her four-legged escort as she was gazing at a row of three boarded-up houses.

  Again and again, it struck her how friendly the townspeople acted towards her. Having lived in the ‘big city’ all her life, all the smiles and salutations from strangers would take some getting used to. As new and odd as she found it all, though, it was also reassuring somehow, and she soon felt confident that coming here and landing the job had been a stroke of good fortune.

  At one point on her walk she saw a small boy running up the street towards her. Approaching Dora directly, he did something that wiped the smile from her face: he grabbed her by the belt and yanked on her pants, bringing her down to his level.

  ''Leave here, Miss!'' he whispered frantically in her ear. ''Run away while you still can!''

  5

  ''Hey! Leave her alone!''

  Two men dropped their work, which was apparently fence construction, and came running from a nearby lot. One of them tried catching the boy, but he was fast and ran away, jumping the fence like a rabbit and running through someone’s garden before disappearing between two houses.

  ''You little rodent!'' one of the men yelled, and ran off after him.

  ''Miss, are you okay? Miss?''

  ''Yes?''

  ''Are you okay?''

  ''Yes, I ...''

  Dora turned in the direction the little boy had run.

  ''He said I should ...''

  ''Never mind what he said. I’d check your pockets if I were you. Did he manage to snatch anything?''

  Dora used her free hand to check her pockets. They were indeed empty, but then she remembered she'd left her wallet at home.

  ''No,'' she said to the man. ''It’s fine.''

  He was almost entirely devoid of eyebrows but he had a thick brown beard, a few scars, and deep wrinkles permanently cut into his working-man’s face. He was looking at Dora carefully.

  ''Are you sure?''

  ''Yes.''

  ''Consider yourself lucky, then.''

  Just then another person approached, a ginger-haired girl with an upturned nose and a baby in her hands, wrapped up in a blanket and sleeping.

  ''I saw the whole thing,'' she said nervously. ''The little bugger came straight at you.''

  ''Do you know him?'' Dora stuttered.

  ''Do I know him? Hmm, you’re not from around here, are you, Miss? Are you a tourist?''

  ''No, I'm the Dietrichs’ new nanny,'' Dora explained, looking puzzled at the way the two looked at each other.

  ''Oh, I see. And no-one has told you yet about these damn Gypsies?''

  ''Gypsies?''

  The young woman rocked and cooed her baby while the man filled in the details.

  ''Yes, Gypsies. Some ministry somewhere decided a couple of years ago they would offer a hand to them out of a sort of humanitarian affection. Give them homes and whatnot. Only they didn’t want these people in the cities so instead they chucked them up here in the country. I reckon they were hoping they would grab hold of some good old fashioned labor and help with the community, but I probably don't need to tell you that nothing of the sort happened.''

  The other man came back, breathing heavily and shaking his head, indicating that he wasn’t able to catch the boy.

  ''It’s okay, Franz, he didn't manage to get anything anyway ... Where was I?'' He turned back to Dora. ''Oh, right. Anyway, ever since they've been here in our little town, these Gypsy folks have been stirring up trouble. And as far as their contribution to the community, one look at the lots assigned to them tells the whole story. They're the ones that are boarded up and covered in graffiti.''

  ''Damn filth is what they are,'' the other fellow added, wiping the sweat from his forehead, and spitting on the grass. ''Nothing but trou
ble! They leave their boarded-up houses at night and wander around in the moonlight like a bunch of zombies, singing weird songs and looking for things to steal or vandalize. And the apples don't fall far from the trees, either. Even their young are no good, taking every opportunity to pickpocket someone or swindle a tourist. As you saw yourself just now.''

  Dora was appaled.

  ''I though this was a nice little peaceful town!'' she cried.

  ''It is, Miss, it is,'' the girl with the baby said. ''Apart from these Gypsies, Graufirst is just about the prettiest little town there is. Luckily there aren’t that many of them, although they do have the tendency to reproduce like jackrabbits.'' She fell silent for a moment and gently put her hand on Dora’s arm. ''You’re shaking. Listen, I know the Dietrichs. How about I walk you back to their house just to make sure you get there safe?''

  Dora shook her head. ''No, that’s okay.''

  ''I insist. Just hang on a minute while I put my baby boy in his crib. He’s fallen asleep anyway.''

  The woman headed into a nearby house with a well-kempt lawn and the mandatory flowering beds. Moments later she returned, and she and Dora set off together, dragging the lethargic dog behind them.

  The two women spoke only after leaving the street and taking a right at a junction that Dora hadn’t previously seen, passing some large bales of hay and a parked multicultivator.

  ''My name’s Rike, by the way.''

  ''Dora.''

  ''Very nice to meet you, Dora. And listen - don’t worry, okay? My husband made it sound a bit more melodramatic than it is. These Gypsies can be quite a nuisance, but they're not really as harmful as they are pesky. They certainly wouldn't physically harm anyone, it’s just that they have a certain way of life that includes living in scruffy places, not paying much attention to hygiene and engaging in occasional minor offences and petty theft. Anyway, you shouldn’t be afraid of them is all I’m saying.''

  Dora told her what the boy said, but Rike didn't seem impressed.

  ''A typical tactic of theirs,'' she nodded like an animal expert commenting on a species she had studied at length. ''They scare their victims and pick their pockets - usually it’s more than just one kid, too. It’s either that or they're just begging, and if they don’t consider the handout large enough, they try to grab whatever you have. I reckon the kid must have pegged you for a tourist. He wouldn't approach a local with a maneuver like that. We've been well acquainted with their shenanigans for a long time.''

  ''But he seemed so terrified,'' Dora said, once again pulling on the leash.

  ''Yes, they are frighteningly good actors, almost as good as they are musicians. Just you wait till tonight, you’ll see what I’m talking about. Anyway, they got me no less than four times in the last three years. Snagged my wallet on each occasion.'' Rike laughed at herself. ''I’m so naive. But get this - they returned my wallet right to my doormat. Every time. Without the money, of course. But the photos and other personal belongings, including the ID, were left. I guess that shows that in spite of everything they still have good hearts. All in all, you have to take the good with the bad,'' she added as they passed another row of houses tattooed with graffiti. ''A couple of kooks may not be the worst price you could pay for living in such an otherwise pleasant community.''

  ''Yes, I suppose not,'' Dora said, trying to seem more convinced than she was and wondering why Greta hadn't done more than vaguely mention this Gypsy ‘infestation’ in passing.

  6

  Rike escorted Dora all the way back to the Dietrich residence, but declined to come in and say hello to the family, saying she still had some chores to do back home.

  ''Don’t be a stranger now, Dora. I mean it, you come visit any time.''

  ''Are you sure you’ll be all right? I feel really bad now with you having to walk back alone.''

  ''Well don’t be,'' Rike smiled. ''Like I said, my husband blew this Gypsy thing way out of proportion. And besides,'' she said with a grin, ''I'm a green belt in judo. Just let them try something!''

  Dora returned the smile and watched as Rike headed back down the street waving as she turned the corner.

  Dora opened the garden fence and went along the path towards the front door. The sun was noticeably weaker now, having acquired a subtle hint of evening red.

  She let the dog loose in the back yard and poured water into his bowl. As she was going back in the house, she heard voices that sounded like two women having a heated argument.

  ''... but I don’t want to anymore! I just don’t!''

  The voice was Anne’s, and her mother replied in a rather brutal tone.

  ''Now you listen here, little girl! If Emil and Thomas can do as they’re told, then so will you! Or else you’re going to be in a world of trouble!''

  The slam of the door, caught in the draught, gave Dora’s presence away.

  ''Honey!'' Greta leaned into the hallway, instantly making a one-eighty. ''How was your walk?''

  ''Fine,'' Dora replied, ''but I'd like to ask you something about what's going on around here with these ...''' But before she could finish her sentence, Anne came running in from the living room bumping into Dora as she passed by on her way upstairs. She was sobbing and would not be stopped by her mother.

  ''Is everything all right?'' Dora asked, somewhat taken aback.

  ''Oh, everything’s fine,'' Greta reassured her. ''She's just growing up. Can’t immagine what it’s going to be like once the boys get to be that age.'' She closed her eyes and took a quick, deep breath through her nose, then released as if doing some sort of instant yoga for busy people. ''Care to say hello to our tutor, Dora? We were just about to have coffee in the living room.''

  The teacher was a man in his late thirties. A fellow that would be described by most women as handsome or even rugged; he spoke in a deep mandibular voice and had short black hair that was showing some grey in a few spots, but physically he appeared to be in top shape. He had a long, slightly pointy jaw, a shading of dark facial hair and a wolf-like look in his brown eyes, which had a habit of sending long, penetrating gazes at whomever he was addressing, capable of making them lower theirs.

  Seeing him made Dora immediately forget all about her little run-in with the Gypsie boy.

  ''I’m Nicolaus,” he said. But people also call me Nico.''

  Greta poured her some coffee and stood behind, putting her big arms on Dora’s shoulders.

  ''So what am I to do about Anne, Nico? You saw how she is.''

  The tutor took a bite of a homemade muffin and then put it down on the plate. Dora couldn’t help but stare at his chocolate-covered lips.

  ''She’s growing up. I reckon some company of her own age could only do her good. She’s at the stage when girls begin to look at boys, you know ...''

  ''Boys!'' Greta exclaimed, as if he’d said something outrageous.

  ''Well, yes,'' Nicolaus replied, suppressing a smile. ''I mean she’s twelve now, right?''

  ''Eleven!''

  ''Eleven. I mean, don’t get me wrong here, Greta; as much as I enjoy tutoring all three of them, I’m just saying that it might be wise to enroll Anne in an official grammar school one of these days. Perhaps the boarding school in Kleineohren.''

  ''But that’s a two-hour drive, Nicolaus! What if something happens to her?''

  ''I don’t think there’s much to worry about there. I know the head of the school personally and he runs a tight ship. Hundreds of kids study there. I know it's a bit far, but she could take the shuttle and come back home on the weekends. And over the holidays, of course, she could also stay home. Think about it. It would give you two a little breathing room.''

  ''He’s right, you know,'' murmured Errol cautiously, not looking at his wife.

  ''And the boys aren’t all that far from getting to that stage either, Greta,'' Nicolaus continued. ''I mean no offense to this charming new addition to your family, but even the most capable nanny won’t be able to contain those two once their hormones get going.''


  But Greta was in no mood for this discussion, and she quickly and rather forcefully reverted to small talk, hoping Nicolaus would cop on. Taking the hint, he thanked them for the coffee and stood up, saying that he has some work to do at home. On his way out, he shook hands with Dora again.

  ''Such a nice couple you two would make,'' Errol remarked as Greta escorted Nicolaus out to the street. Dora could not help but peek out at them through the window. ''I mean the man could barely keep his eyes off you. But then again, he may be just a bit too old.''

  Errol gathered the coffee mugs on a tray, picking up the half-finished muffin that Nicolaus left behind and eating it himself, while Dora went upstairs to freshen up.

  On her way to the bathroom, she heard dull sobbing, coming from the children’s room. It was Anne, lying face down on her bed, her head dug into the pillow. The boys were in the adjacent storage room, giggling.

  Dora stood by the door for a few moments, hesitating, then knocked on the wood and slowly entered.

  ''Anne?'' she said, crouching onto the edge of the bed. ''Anne, whatever is bothering you, don’t be sad. Everything is going to be okay. I know it can be a little overwhelming, getting to that age. And as corny as this is going to sound, believe me when I tell you ...''

  ''You don’t know anything!'' Anne blurted out.

  ''Oh, but I do. I remember when I was a kid my parents were even more strict than yours. I always battled it out with my father over whether I could go to parties with my ...''

  Right then, Anne shot up on her elbows and snarled, her face twisted in fury as she looked at Dora.

  ''You stupid woman! You think that’s what this is about? Get out, leave me alone!''

  Dora was stunned. She stuttered out a quick apology and started to back off, when suddenly Greta burst into the room.

  ''I don’t want to see you right now!'' the little girl wailed at her mother.

  ''Now you listen here, Anne! You will behave!''

  ''Get out, both of you!'' Anne shrieked, throwing a pillow blindly toward the door.

  ''That’s enough!''

  ''Fuck you!''