Iskander: Blog

Chapter 14 of Through different Eyes has been uploaded.

In other news, Through different Eyes has made it into the finals of a book competition, which is great news... but there's a way to do yet.

Here's an excerpt from Chapter 14.

I finished my drink and wandered over to the esky. I crouched to acquire another coke, Aunt Anastasia’s warning about my skirt sounding in my head. As I stood, a shadow fell over me.

“You’re this mystery girl we’ve been hearing about.” The voice belonged to a red-haired girl taller than me, wearing a pale green pants suit and large, gold ring earrings.

I sipped my coke, returning her gaze. “I don’t think I’m mysterious. I’m me.”

She reached across and held the Russian eagle hanging at my throat with her fingers. She let it go and looked with narrowed eyes. “Well, despite that, I know you’re not Russian. Where are you from?”

I let my much-suppressed teasing side out and answered her in Russian. “I’m Karlota, half English and half German”.

She blinked – not a Russian speaker.

My tease took over and I tried her again, in Polish, German and finally French. I was smiling as I finished.

“You’re Karlota and you’re … English and German?” Her head was on one side as her eyes narrowed again, trying to size me up.

I raised my eyebrows in acknowledgement.

She regarded me for a few more seconds before her shoulders relaxed and she took a sip from the wineglass in her hand. “Do you speak all those languages?”

“Yes, I do – and English.”

She laughed and put out her hand. “I’m Deborah. Pleased to meet you.” Her face changed. “You speak French, German, Russian and,” her voice had a touch of wonder. “… what was the other one?”

“Polish.”

“Goodness. And you’re a friend of Madame Zaytseva?”

I smiled. “Do you speak Spanish?” My tease still in command.

Deborah blinked in confusion. “No … what makes you think I do?”

I awarded her a mischievous look. “All these questions made me wonder if you were from the Inquisition.”

Deborah’s eyes crinkled into a smile. “Very good.”

We shared the smile for a moment.

“Call me Deb. And … Karlota …” She stumbled over the multiple different pronunciations she’d heard, particularly the way I had emphasised my Rs. “… is quite a mouthful…”

“I’m Kal to my friends.”

“Well, I hope we can be friends, Kal, as I can’t see myself rolling my R’s the way you do.” She took another sip of wine. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Which one was that?”

“Madame Zaytseva…”

I wasn’t sure where this was heading. “Yes – we’re sort of friends.”

“You were at the Easter Ball with her, weren’t you? There was a photo of you dancing with Maxim in the Russian newspaper.”

I gave her a non-committal nod.
Deborah’s eyes narrowed. “The ball and that photo caused a stir. Maxim is the most eligible Russian bachelor. My mother’s always trying to push me into his path,” she sniffed. “Like all the other mothers.”

Maxim must be quite a catch to be the matrimonial target of the Russian mothers.

“Your mother’s Russian.”

Deb chuckled. “I’m a half-breed, like you. My father’s Irish.”

“But you’ve not learned Russian from your mother?”

She frowned in surprise. “Why would I do that? This is Australia and we all speak English.” She paused, subjecting me to a speculative look. “But I think I understand about your languages. You had to learn English, didn’t you?”

“We lived in Germany when I was little – I learned English when we moved to England.” How easily the lies slip out … but at least that was a half-truth.

“That explains English and German. What about the others?”

I shrugged. “I had a Polish friend in England and we swapped languages. I’m learning French at school and Madame Zaytseva is teaching me Russian. She thinks I have a talent for languages.”

“I’d say she was right,” Deb smiled, looking across the pool. “You’ve been hanging around in the background – come and meet some of the girls.”

As always, I am interested to hear your comments on my story. Thanks again for reading my work.

This story is scoring well into the top 50 stories (it's slowly climbing and would be #25 at present), but it needs more votes to make the list.

So - please vote!

Iskander

Chapter 13 of Through different Eyes has been uploaded. Here's an excerpt.

Aunt Anastasia smiled. “Maxim was your first dance partner … taller than you, with dark hair and eyes – more brown than nearly black like yours.”

His face floated up from amongst the others I’d danced with that night.

“He’s nineteen, studying law at the University.” Aunt Anastasia pursed her lips. “I expect he thinks you are older than you are, thanks to your makeup and the champagne you were drinking.” She gave me a calculating look. “I think you should get close to him.”

I wasn’t sure where this was going and I remained silent under Aunt Anastasia’s penetrating gaze.

After a moment, she quirked a smile. “Do you have much experience with boys?”

Willi’s gentle breath on my neck, our arms around one another, hands sliding over our bodies …

My face flushed and I dropped my eyes. “Um – no.”

“But there was … someone special?” Her eyes were soft, understanding.

I couldn’t speak, squeezing my eyes shut, clamping down on the sudden tears. After a moment, Aunt Anastasia’s hand slid across mine.

“Your gold chain?”

My hands flew to my neck, the tears now beyond suppression trickling down my face. Through my misery, I heard Aunt Anastasia shift in her chair and a soft handkerchief dabbed my cheeks. My eyes flew open to find her leaning forward, her eyes glistening as a single tear spilled from an eye, called from her own deep sorrow. I reached up and moved her hand across to her face, our tears together darkening the snowy cloth.

We shared our sadness for several seconds until I summoned enough strength to speak. “They dragged me away without a goodbye.” I smothered the emotion. “I tried to send him a message – but she didn’t pass it on.”

Aunt Anastasia’s pale blue eyes watched as we moved our shared hands and handkerchief to collect the tears on our faces. “Yuri was a cavalry officer. So gay, so alive.” She shook her head as if trying to deny what had occurred. “He died fighting in Manchuria in the war with Japan … in 1904.”
Her eyes closed and I saw her swallow, still feeling the loss across the decades. She struggled to her feet and I leapt up to help, worried that the emotion we were sharing was painful for her.

She read the care on my face. “It’s alright, Karlota.” She patted my shoulder. “Stay here. I want to show you something.” She disappeared into her bedroom, her cane clicking on the polished boards when she reached the edge of the carpet. After a minute, she returned, clasping a large, inlaid Chinese box to her chest. Sitting down, she arranged the box on her lap and shared a watery smile.

As always, I be interested to hear your comments on my story. Thanks again for reading my work.

This story is scoring well into the top 50 stories (it would be #30 at present), but it needs more votes to make the list.

So - please vote!

Iskander

Chapter 12 of Through different Eyes has been posted.

Col and her mother try to put meaning to the incident between Aunt Anastasia and Mr Franks, the ASIO agent at the ball and turn it to their advantage.

But did Mr Franks see Col - and if he did, did he recognise her?

And for those of you who have purchased Through different Eyes from Bookapy, you can get the latest version with the chapter duplication corrected from your Bookapy bookshelf at no charge.

Again, apologies for the mistake!

Hi folks

It's been pointed out to me that there was an error - a duplicate chapter - in the Bookapy version of Through different Eyes.

This has now been corrected.

My apologies to those of you who have already purchased this book.

First of all - many thanks for your support and, most importantly, email me here and I will get you a fresh copy of the epub.

Again, my apologies and my thanks.

Iskander

Chapter 11 has been uploaded. Kal learns there is more to Aunt Anastasia than meets the eye.

Clutch bag in hand, I stood. “I’m going to the ladies’ room, Aunt Anastasia.”

An older couple were showing off their skill in a foxtrot as I walked round the dance floor. Using the mirror in the ladies’ room, I checked and freshened my lipstick and make-up and dabbed on some fragrance from the small bottle. The jewellery sent shards of light at me from the mirror. I spent a minute smiling at the sparkle of the diamonds as I turned my head, surprised at how much I was enjoying myself.

On the way back to our table, I could see Aunt Anastasia talking to a man who had his back to me. He turned to survey the dance floor and my heart leapt into my mouth: Mr Franks.

In surprise, I stopped and moved behind a group of people standing at a nearby table. I took a deep breath, seeking my calm centre.

What is Mr Franks doing here? What is his relationship with Aunt Anastasia? Had she told him about me? What did this mean for Mutti and me?

From my hiding place, I watched them talk. I couldn’t hear them, but I saw Aunt Anastasia’s cheeks flare into fiery points.

Mr Franks is annoying her. What is going on?

After about a minute, Aunt Anastasia waved her hand dismissively. Mr Franks stance straightened and he looked down at her, saying something. Aunt Anastasia remained closed lipped and he turned and walked away, luckily away from me.

My good mood had curdled and I received some odd looks from the people at the nearby table; I mustered what I hoped was an enigmatic smile to cover my anxiety and walked on to our table. The flares on Aunt Anastasia’s cheeks and her pursed lips told me she was still upset.

“Are you all right, Aunt Anastasia?”

Her eyes narrowed, staring at some distasteful horizon. “That man is uncouth, uncultured and untrustworthy.” The Russian rolled off her tongue softly but with the severity of a judge sentencing a murderer.

Many thanks for reading my story.

It would seem that many of you are enjoying Kal's world. I'd love to hear what you think by email or in the comments and it'd be great if you could vote for it, as well!