General Fiction posted September 16, 2025

Chapters:

...23 24 -25- 26 ...

tfawcus

Tony Fawcus, ex-RAF Navigator and Junior School teacher, spent 22 years living on South Australia's Fleurieu Peninsula where he ran a small farm and a B&B cottage before his recent move back to Adelaide.

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Back at the Lodge

A chapter in the book Dmitri's Extraordinary Fate

Dmitri's Extraordinary Fate: 25

by tfawcus

Background
The scene is war-torn Ukraine. Dmitri is a teenage boy, currently in Kyiv. He is desperately trying to rejoin Leila, the love of his life, who he thinks is now in Turkiye.

Elena heard the click of the phone, felt it like the cocking of a gun against her head. 'Dmitri! Are you still there? Please! Don't hang up! I didn't mean that.'

She knew she was speaking into the void. He had already gone. Why had she been so unfeeling? A wild goose chase, indeed. She should have known what his reaction would be.

She sighed and did what she always did when life overwhelmed her. She buried herself in a task. This time, it was splitting logs, both a release and a penance. The wood was wet, and the axe was blunt, so she had more than enough to vent her self-recrimination on.

Having eased the frustration she felt about her stupidity, she began to consider the positives. At least he had arrived safely in Kyiv, and she now knew where he was heading next, but she had no illusions about the danger of travelling to Kalynorad, so close to the battlefront. She sighed. There was nothing she could do except pray.

It was several days before she summoned the courage to visit Pavla. Her friend would be interested to know Dmitri had sold a few drawings and where he now was. She might even know of ways to re-establish contact with him. Unlike Elena, she'd spent time on the Eastern Front.

Pavla received the news with cautious interest. 'Kalynorad is very close to the front line. It's been under constant bombardment from Russian drones and missiles, and I dread to think what Dmitri will find when he gets there. The whole town might have been reduced to rubble.'

'Don't say that. The poor boy's already been through enough.'

'Well, it's the truth, dear, whether you like it or not. At least if he comes out of it alive, he'll know whether he really wants to be a war artist. The dream and the reality are two very different things.'

Elena wasn't so sure. Could the reality really be any worse than her imagination of how things were? Of how her husband and son had met their death? Of what terrible dangers Dmitri now faced?

'There must be some way of contacting him.'

'Possibly. If he's attempting to dredge up the paperwork to establish his sister's death was war-related, I could try to reach the authorities in Kalynorad—assuming authorities still exist there. But communications are often down. There may not be any way of getting through.'

'Then I suppose we'll just have to wait for him to contact us again.' She didn't tell Pavla about the way Dmitri had hung up in Kyiv. She had no wish to share her feelings of guilt about that.

'There's a possibility Andriy may be able to help,' Pavla said. 'He returns to active duty in a few days.'

'You must be joking. Not after that confrontation at the dinner party. I wouldn't ask anything of that vile man.'

'He's a war hero. Cut him a bit of slack. He likes to tease people, and he's not at his best after a few drinks.'

'Not at his best? You can say that again. He's nothing but a bully and a misogynist.'

'He was only testing the boy's mettle, and I must say he was impressed by the way Dmitri stood up for himself. It's a technique he uses to test the character of soldiers under his command.' Pavla ignored the incredulous look on Elena's face. 'And as for being a misogynist, that's a front he likes to put on. I can vouch for the fact that deep down he has a tender heart.'

Elena knew enough about the relationship between Pavla and the major not to press the point. 'If you say so, dear. But he has a strange way of showing it. Anyway, I suppose there's no harm in approaching him. It sounds as if he might be the best chance we have of getting news of my dream-child.'

Dream-child? Now it was Pavla's turn to look incredulous. However, she refrained from comment, contenting herself with a non-committal, 'I'll see what I can do. No promises though.'

***

Elena returned home without feeling she had achieved much. If Major Kolt was their best hope, God help poor Dmitri.

The night was already closing in when she got home. It had been a blustery day, and autumn leaves were still swirling in the driveway. A thin, spiteful rain stung her face as she approached the house. In the half-light, she thought at first that someone had dropped a pile of rags by the back door. Then she realised her error.

Leila was curled up on the threshold, sheltering from the wind. Her coat was travel-stained, her hair tangled, and her eyes dark-rimmed and hollow. When she saw Elena, she struggled to her feet. Her lips parted, as if she was going to speak, but no words came. Instead, she fell into Elena's arms and the emotional tension that had sustained her for so long drained away on an ebb tide of relief.

Elena waited until her convulsive sobs slowed before helping her into the kitchen and easing her into a chair. She had learnt long ago that silence was not emptiness, but a space in which things could surface.

Giving Leila time to compose herself, Elena draped a dry shawl over her shoulders and busied herself with stoking the fire and heating up a bowl of broth.

'Here, drink this. It'll do you good.'

Leila cupped the bowl in both hands but did not drink. She had the wild look of a vixen gone to ground with the hounds still baying for blood around her den.

Gradually, the warmth of the fire, the timeless tick of the clock, and Elena's calm, undemanding presence eased her fear enough for her to blurt out, 'He's still after me.'

'Who's still after you, dear?'

'My father.'

The word sank like a swamped canoe and swirled, half-submerged in the sea of emotion that lay between them.

There was a long pause before the story came out in fragments.

'He caught up with me in Kyiv, snatched my phone away while I was talking to you, and held me until I yielded to his power.

'It was terrible. I thought he was still in the army. I had no idea. He told me he had been wounded and discharged, no longer fit for service.

'He said he had also learnt of my mother's sickness, and that he, too, was on his way to be by her side in her final hours. That we should travel together. It would be safer.

She gave a bitter laugh. 'He apologised for how he had caught hold of me. Said he knew I would run away from him if I saw him coming. It was the only way.'

'Did you believe him?'

'I wanted to. He talked about making peace and about starting again. I tried to answer. But inside, my heart was still like ice. How could it be otherwise after what had passed between us?'

This remark was followed by a long pause. Elena took Leila's bowl. 'Would you like a refill or something more solid to eat? Poor darling. You must be famished.'

Leila shook her head. There were more important things on her mind than food. 'I don't want Dmitri to hear this—for obvious reasons. Promise me you won't tell him. Where is he, by the way? Out doing errands? Surely not down in Velinkra in weather like this?'

"He's away,' Elena said evasively. 'It's a long story, but let's hear the rest of yours first.'

Leila hesitated. 'This bit's hard. I don't quite know where to begin.'

'You don't need to tell me, if you don't want to. I understand. I don't need to know the past history. It's water under the bridge.'

'Not really. It's something that will never flow away. If I don't release some of the pressure, the dam will eventually burst.'

Elena chuckled. 'That doesn't sound like a pretty sight. Out with it then, if it will help you.'

Her voice dropped to a whisper. 'Times were hard. We were on the edge of starvation. He did the only thing he could think of to save the family, or that's what he said. Maybe it's what he believed. He sold me to a rich man in Ankara. An educated man. A leading sponsor of the Turkish State Opera and Ballet. A man they all called effendi, as if that made him respectable. Someone he thought would treat me well, or as well as could be expected under the circumstances.

'He told me I was to be the man's protégé. That I would attend classes and learn to dance. That one day I would become a famous ballet dancer. It was these lies that hurt the most. I was sixteen. I had stars in my eyes, and I believed him.

'It was too late when I discovered the truth. His interest in the ballet was not that of a patron, but of a voyeur. He kept a small harem of girls like me. Pretty girls, graceful and nubile. He liked us to dance for him. Naked. As long as we complied, there was no trouble. But for those who didn't ...'

She shuddered.

'You poor girl. I had no idea.'

'It's not something I like to talk about.' Leila took a deep breath and continued, 'When my mother got to hear of it, she was distraught. She begged for my release. But it was no good. What were we but starving refugees? She had no chance.

'But I don't give up easily. One day, I saw my opportunity. I escaped through a window and fled. My mother held all our passports. For safekeeping, she said. From our father is what she didn't say. Anyway, she managed to get me to the border.

'Of course, my master was beside himself with rage. He is a man of great influence. He sent my father after me, vowing that he would kill him if he didn't bring me back. This I learnt later in letters from my mother.

'Anyway, when my father entered Ukraine, he was caught as a draft dodger and conscripted into the Ukrainian army. I prayed that he would never return. I thought that I was safe at last.'

'Until he turned up in Kyiv and kidnapped you.'

'Not exactly kidnapped. He is a persuasive man. He talked about how sorry he was. How it had been the only way to save the family. That he would make amends. That it would be safer if I didn't make the journey alone. Eventually, I agreed, and we travelled together on the bus to Moldova.

'While we were at the airport waiting for the flight to Istanbul, I told him I needed to go to the restroom to freshen up. When I came out, I could see him hunched up over his phone. I was behind two or three other ladies, and he didn't see me return. I overheard the one word, effendi, and I knew I had been tricked.

'He chased after me when I ran, but I was too quick. I screamed, "Rape!" and people blocked his way as I vanished into the crowd.' She gripped Elena's arm. 'But he won't give up. He can't. His life depends on it. I shall never be free of him. Never!'

'Nonsense, child. You're safe here.'

'No, I'm not. Don't you understand? He knows I've been living in Velinkra.' She glanced out of the window uneasily. 'It's only a matter of time before he catches up.'

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#6
September
2025

Dmitri Zahir, a teenage boy trying to reach the love of his life.
Mira Zahir, his twin sister, who was killed in a bomb attack.
Elena Prishtina, a volunteer carer who looked after Dmitri during his recovery from catatonia.
Leila, a Syrian girl Dmitri fell in love with.
Pavla Miret, an art teacher who gave Dmitri lessons.
Andriy Kolt, an army major.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

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