Page 77 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt
‘Excellent.’ He clapped his hand together. ‘I’ll have the tickets sent there.’
‘Oh, we’re more than happy to pay for—’ Elle began.
Archie held his hand up. ‘Nonsense, you’re under my employ now, and things haven’t grown so bad that I’m unable to fund a night on the Caledonian Railway.’ He downed the remnants of his pint of beer. ‘Forgive me, do you know, Idon’t think I caught your surname?’ He looked at us quizzically. ‘It’s Robert and Eleanor...’
‘Tanit,’ I replied, as quickly and smoothly as possible.
‘Perfect. I’ll have the tickets sent to Mr and Mrs Tanit.’ With a nod and a smile, Archie Vaughan took his long, blue greatcoat from the hook by the door and walked out of the tavern.
Elle and I turned to one another, and started to laugh. ‘You see, my darling,’ I said. ‘Do you understand why, despite everything, I put my trust in the universe?!’
She took my hands. ‘I’m certainly beginning to. What a stroke of luck!’
‘Indeed.’ I looked skywards and gave a small shrug. ‘Or, perhaps, something more powerful than luck. Who are we to say?’ We stared into each other’s eyes for a while, both probably a little baffled that we had been granted a new opportunity so quickly. Eventually Elle frowned.
‘What about the surname you gave him? What were you thinking?’
Reader, in a moment of sheer panic, I had provided Archie Vaughan with my true name – the one that, somewhere in the wastelands of Siberia, is written on my birth certificate: Tanit.
I ran my hands through my hair. ‘I know, it was foolish of me. But I didn’t wish to hesitate for a second, particularly after all those questions about our accents. It was merely what was in my brain.’
Elle rolled her eyes, but the smile returned to her face. ‘So, we are to be Mr and Mrs Tanit.’
‘I suppose that if Kreeg ever does make it to Britain,’ I reasoned, ‘the last thing he’d expect is for me to be using my real surname...’
Over dinner, we discussed all the possibilities that our newlife on the country estate might afford us. We fantasised about the little cottage we had been promised, and the lush green surroundings of the English countryside. In that moment, the peril of Kreeg and German invasion felt very far away.
We strolled back down the high street to our lodgings, whereupon the proprietor presented us with a letter addressed to ‘Bo and Elle’ – which, thankfully, were the names we had used to check in. Elle’s face lit up, and she rushed upstairs to our room.
‘It must be Karine!’ she said excitedly. ‘I can’t wait to tell her about what happened this evening. She’ll think it’s so funny.’ She examined the front of the envelope and frowned. ‘It’s strange, this doesn’t look like Karine’s handwriting.’
‘Open it and find out,’ I encouraged her.
Once she had torn into the envelope, Elle pulled out two pieces of paper. ‘There’s something from Horst in here,’ she said quizzically.
‘Horst? Is everything all right?’
I studied Elle’s face as she read the contents. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Read it aloud,’ I suggested.
‘“Dear Bo, dear Elle...”’ she began.
I hope this envelope reaches you. I discovered your address from the recent letter you sent to Karine. I apologise for opening it, but you will soon learn why I had no choice. I am glad that you are safely in Scotland, and hope that the horror of this senseless conflict does not follow you there. I wish that I was not writing to you in such sorry circumstances. But it is my duty to send this letter to you, as per my dear son’s wishes.
I beg of you, do not think badly of him. He wasnot a rotten person. He merely made a mistake, and has paid the highest price imaginable. Thank you for being such dear friends to my son, and to Karine. Know that they both loved you deeply.
Please, treasure each other, love each other, and listen to each other.
Your friend,
Horst Halvorsen
Elle put the letter down and looked at me with concern.
There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. ‘Let me read the other letter.’ I walked over to Elle and gently took it from her hands.
Dear Bo, dear Elle,
