Dark Midwinter Night

By IanG

Southern England, 1921

A loud bang resounded through cold air. Then a red firework appeared and streaks of light spread out. It looked as if God was drawing a pom pom in the dark midwinter night. Down below people looked up and fear spread. This wasn't for pleasure, it was a signal that someone was in trouble. A seaside town lay below the firework. Somewhere on a black sea somebody needed help.

Nye ap Morgan was in the church hall when the bang went off. A Christmas tree stood behind him, a pyramid of green and red. He and his girlfriend were rehersing with a choir. Cathy turned in his direction. She looked worried but murmured "good luck." She knew what he had to do.

Nye pounded out of the stone hall, then down a street that led to the sea front. Another man charged out of a side street and they ran together.

"A man's fallen off a cliff Nye!" the newcomer explained. "We think he's broken an ankle!"

"Sounds bad James."

If the casualty wasn't moved before the tide came in he would drown.

They turned a corner, passing a guest house with a lawn in front. They were now next to a sea wall and the beach lay just before it. Ahead lay a large shed like structure with a ramp leading down from its double doors. Twenty year old legs propelled Nye into this building. James came hard on his heels.

A long open boat stretched out before them. The name "Blue Dolphin" adorned her prow. Men stood around her, pulling on cork lifejackets and rubber boots. Nye and James did likewise, then everyone piled into the boat. Boots and bodies thudded and clattered in cold night air. They took with them a stretcher and a first aid kit. They launched themselves as quickly as possible.

Was this the same sea where holidaymakers swam and sailed during the summer? The crew carried lanterns but tonight it was easy to get disoriented on it. Anyone who fell into it would soon freeze to death. Nye and his crewmates pulled hard on heavy oars and this helped to stave off the chill. Oh for stomachs full of raisins, icing sugar and marzipan. Despite the blackness they reached a chalk cliff that plunged down to the sea. A group of men, presumably friends of the casualty, shone torches to guide them in. Blue Dolphin slowed as submerged rocks posed a threat. Nye and James Millward got out and waded to a stoney beach. Only a narrow strip of beach remained and it would soon vanish under lapping waves. Arms of the sea encircled the people. They formed broad pools, like paws of an apex predator.

One man lay on his back. His right foot stuck out at an unnatural angle. His features had twisted with pain. He looked older than Nye, perhaps in his thirties. Three other people in hooded coats stood around him, shining torches so his would-be rescuers could see him. They waved at the crewmen. One said "thank God you've come!"

"This is Mr William Gregg," said one of them, indicating the casualty.

Nye and James bent down to examine him. They ascertained that Mr Gregg had indeed broken an ankle.

Another man said "we tried to get him up but he was in too much pain, so Olena here scrambled up a steep path, ran for help and called you from a phone box, then came back to offer some comfort."

Nye thought "that's an unusual name."

Then one of Gregg's companions came closer and Nye got a better look at them. She was a woman with hair the colour of summer wheat. She smelt of sweat and fear. Nye hadn't expected a woman but soon got over his surprise.

"I'm Olena Bubka," she said, smiling with relief. "We are all geologists. We came here in daylight to study these cliffs. After doing so all of us were going up the cliff, using a steep path. Mr Gregg swayed, lost his footing and came down quickly. He cried out as he hit the rocks below. We ran up to him and found him badly hurt in the fall. Thank you, thank you for coming."

Nye and James applied bandages and splints to the broken ankle. Mr Gregg winced. Olena gasped and raised a hand to her mouth. They got the casualty onto their stretcher and carried him to the waters edge. Blue Dolphin edged in as close as possible. James and Nye lifted the casualty and waded into lapping waves. Bitter cold enveloped them. Nye hit his left knee on a submerged rock but carried on. It was difficult but they got Mr Gregg into their boat. The other geologists waded in then climbed aboard, for the path would be especially treacherous by night. As they rowed away, strong crewmen stayed tense on account of rocks below. Nonetheless they made it to deeper, safer waters. Blue Dolphin might've been saying "don't worry, I know what I'm doing and I'll carry you safely home."

As they crossed the grave black sea, Olena offered a silent prayer of thanks. Then her thoughts turned to a different journey that she had made years earlier. It hadn't worked out as she had hoped.

Olena had been born in Ukraine, in a provincial town. Its churches had blue roofs and gilded domes. Her parents were teachers. She had a sister who became a governess to a wealthy family in London. It was with the aid of her sibling that Olena came to London to study at university.

To be honest Olena found the city a bit overwhelming. It was crowded, noisy and smelly. Her fellow students were more sophisticated than she. The young woman spent much of her time alone, but that meant more chances to read so she did well at her studies. She graduated in geology, the only woman in her year to do so.

Then the Russian Empire, of which Ukraine was a part, underwent a revolution. The imperial family were overthrown and later shot dead. Ukraine declared her independence only to descend into civil war. She would soon be reconqured by Russia. "I had better not go back," Olena thought. Her parents escaped and settled in Paris, drawn there by a growing community of refugees. Both daughters visited them as soon as possible. Upon their return to Britain Olena went looking for work.

At first she couldn't even get an interview. Nothing had been said but she suspected it was because she was a woman. Then she finally got an interview.

The man who interviewed her was young and strikingly fair. He had been on expeditions to Greenland and to the Alps. The head of an ibex (mountain goat) was mounted behind him. He asked about her background and qualifications, but looked at her in a way she found unsettling.

Then he said "I'm going to make you a proposal. You may take up the post I'm offering if you come and sleep with me tonight."

Olena began to pour with sweat. She gripped the arms of her chair and raised her chin. Looking him in the eye she replied "no, no, no!"

His face turned purple. Next he asked "are you sure you know what you're saying?"

Olena rose from her chair and said "yes I do sir!" Then she spun on her heels and marched out of the room. She ran from the building, got back home and locked the door behind her.

The young woman packed her bags and moved out of London, to the south coast. Her hopes were crumbling like cliffs eroded by storms. Walks on clifftops foaming with thyme and gorse helped to calm her. While there she learned that a local museum had a vacancy for a geologist. She applied and was granted an interview. She arrived feeling more nervous than usual, but this time there was nothing to fear. It was Mr Gregg who interviewed her and he saw her first and foremost as a geologist. She got the job without having to to share his bed.

Nye's back story. South Wales 1918.

It was breakfast time. Nye drank coffee that his mother had brewed on a black range. His father sat on a bentwood chair reading a newspaper. The headline was that the Russian imperial family had been executed. As he read it Dad's eyes lit up and he did something that was rare for him, he smiled. Nye and his mother exchanged anxious glances. The mug trembled in Nye's hands. Coal dust lay under his fingernails. Dad started to sing "we'll keep the red flag flying here!"

"They killed women and children as well as the Tzar," said Nye.

Dad rose from his seat and leaned over Nye. He almost touched noses with his then seventeen year old son. The boy felt warm breath on his skin and went tense.

"Shall I tell you something Nye? Thousands of peasant women and children died of hunger and cold under the Tzars. Those Romanovs deserved everything they got."

"Two wrongs don't make... Ouch! No, no! Stop stop, you're hurting me!"

Nye scrambled to his feet, ran upstairs and took refuge in his bedroom. He shoved a brown chest of drawers against the door and held his breath. Angry voices came from outside the room, but it was hard to tell what they were saying. The only window framed a winding wheel for the mine where father and son worked.

"One day I'm going to get out of here," Nye promised himself. "I won't be a puchbag forever."

Two years later he made good his vow. Nye ap Morgan hid on a train that carried coal out of town and deep into England. Eventually he reached the south coast. Finding work and acceptance proved difficult but then he met Cathy Bladen. Her father had been on the lifeboat, though now he had retired. She persuaded Nye to join the crew and also the choir. This had speeded his path to acceptance.

1921

The journey to the harbour proved painful for William Gregg. Olena clasped his hands, offering what comfort she could. Crewmen laid blankets over him. It was mild for December but that wasn't the same as hot. The boat pushed through jet waves and her curves were like those of a finback whale. Everyone felt relieved when Blue Dolphin reached land. An ambulance stood waiting for them, by the station with its walls of weathered planks.

The crew prepared to disembark. One man said "James, you did well back there. You too Bolshi."

On hearing 'Bolshi' Olena gasped. She looked around the boat. That man was looking straight at Nye. The revolutionaries who had killed the Tzar were called Bolshoviks or Bolshis. Nye saw Olena's face in yellow lantern light and he went stiff too.

"I don't support the Bolshoviks ma'm," he said, "but my Dad does. I'm not living under his roof any more. I got that nickname as a joke."

They were all distracted by the need to move Mr Gregg. When that was done they described his injury to the paramedics. After that the geologist was driven away to a local hospital.

Olena lingered near the lifeboat station. Two young boys flew past on bicycles, each grinning and whooping. To them life was like riding a dolphin, all energy and joy. Olena pulled back her lips and looked down her nose at them.

A voice came from behind her saying "its great to see them isn't it. Cathy, would you like to start a family somrday?"

"Yes I would," a woman answered, "and there's only one man I want to start it with."

Olena turned and saw Nye standing on the shingle beach. A dark haired woman was at his side, leaning against his shoulder. His powerful right arm embraced her. They left the beach. Nye smiled and nodded as they passed Olena. She began to shiver and the cold came from within her.

Had she heard Nye called 'Bolshi' a few hours earlier she would never have trusted him. She wouldn't have believed his protestations that he wasn't like his father. She could hardly think of Bolshoviks without her throat contracting and her fingers shaking. Yet their violence was only part of the reason. Something that big couldn't have fallen from a clear blue sky for no reason. Serious problems must have been building up for some time in order for a revolution to break out. Olena felt angry with herself for not realising how bad things had become.

Sounds of carol singers brought her back to the English beach, to lights from street lamps and from windows. Reflections shimmered in the harbour. Joyful tones from the singers helped to calm her. A dog barked in the distance. The engine of a motor car purred. She took a deep breath and smelt salt. Olena left brown shingle and walked into town.

A week passed. In the minds of children Santa's reindeer were on their way, kicking up stardust along the Milky Way. The choir returned to the church hall. Nye and Cathy were among them. Neither was religious but they could still enjoy the melodies and the hall boasted fine accoustics. An audience began gathering up front while choristers changed backstage. Resin from the Christmas tree scented the air. Nye could still feel heavy rope on his palms, as though his flesh remembered that day's work. Cathy's dad had been teaching him how to handle a fishing boat. In the dressing room he picked up cool, smooth cufflinks and fastened them round his wrists.

Nye recalled how Olena had looked at the mention of Bolshi. It had been unsettling. He would put it behind him. When he and James first met James had shouted at him. Nye had left a boot behind a door and the other man had nearly tripped over it. Then again, that wasn't in the same league as what Olena had been through.

That concert went well. The hall was nearly full. Nye, Cathy and their fellow vocalists sang Christmas carols. These included 'Silent Night,' 'The Holly and the Ivy,' 'Deck the Halls' and many more. At the end they recieved a standing ovation.

Smiling singers filed out of the building, through an arched doorway. Cathy's rose pink skirt swished around her ankles. Then another woman called "Mr Morgan, Mr Morgan," so she and Nye stopped and looked back.

Olena stood beneath a street lamp. She took a few steps closer, then said "that was a fine performance, I couldn't describe it, it must be heard."

"Thank you," Nye replied.

"Cathy asked "how is Mr Gregg?"

"He's recovering well," came the answer. "He asked me to pass on his thanks.

"I've given some money to your lifeboat station," said Olena. "I've just come from there and they told me you'd be here. Since you treated my colleague that night its only right I should come and tell you."

"That's good of you," said Nye, "Thank you very much."

"It was the least I could do," Olena replied. "Goodbye Mr Morgan, Miss Bladen."

She turned and walked away, into the dark midwinter night.

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