Читать книгу My Ice Prince - Анна Морион - Страница 2

2

That same evening I called Mariszka in Prague to share my happy news with her, but instead of congratulating me, she strongly insisted that I give up this «madness». Her voice disturbed me: there was bitterness and some tragedy in it.

– Mariszka, what's wrong with your voice? – I asked, deciding that her resistance to my trip had something to do with the sadness in her beautiful voice.

– The thing is… Though I don't think you need to know about other one's problems» she replied.

– Something with Markus? – I suggested. – Was it really that serious?

I didn't know anything about love relationships, but I knew about them from books and films.

– No, no! Markus and I are fine. It's not our relationship that's the problem.

– Then what is it?

– I'll call you later. Tomorrow… No, next week, but promise me you won't go anywhere!

– I've made up my mind, and to be honest, I didn't think you'd mind! Even Martin agreed! – I said grudgingly.

– Misha! – Mariszka sighed heavily. – The path you've chosen is scary and difficult. Besides, no one in the family is even thinking of going with you! You think it's so easy to live alone in human society and successfully hide? You can't do it!

– By the way, your husband's brother thinks otherwise!

– Cedric? What did he tell you? – There was alarm in Mariszka's voice.

I was surprised at the haste with which she said those words.

– He told me I could do anything» I answered shortly: my instincts told me I shouldn't have talked about Cedric too much, and I regretted bringing him into my sister's conversation.

Now she was going to give him the full scolding!

– Cedric! You're the one to listen to! – Mariszka said harshly, clearly angry.

– I don't know what you're angry about. – I was surprised, feeling irritated by this conversation.

– Exactly, that you do not understand! That's enough moralising for today. Now I'm going to call my parents and tell them not to let you go anywhere! Are they crazy or what?

– You wouldn't dare! – I shrieked, but she had already hung up.

Throwing the smartphone on the bed, I jumped out of bed and ran to my parents' room to somehow prevent them from changing their minds about my admission.

«Well, Mariszka! This is unimaginable! My own sister wants to put such a piggyback on me!» – I thought resentfully, knocking on my parents' room.

But there was no answer. I listened: I couldn't hear their voices anywhere in the house. So they had gone somewhere.

«What shall we do? Mariszka will ruin everything!» – I thought with despair.

I went back to my room, sat down on my bed, hugged my knees, and was ready to cry with resentment at my sister: I was very upset, lost, did not know what to do now. I was unbearably bitter at my own fate of being forever bound to my parents' house, like a convict to a stone that would not let him escape. All my joy was killed by one phone call. And to whom? My favourite sister!

But as soon as the first tears rolled from my eyes, I hurried to wipe them away and pull myself together, lest any of my brothers or Maria come running to comfort me.

That was the inconvenience of being a vampire: it was impossible to feel free among my siblings, because they could hear my every word, my every breath, even my whispers. And that was another reason I wanted to leave home: I longed to just sit in my room or close myself in the bathroom and cry quietly. I couldn't afford that luxury at home, because I was in the palm of my hand.

I dialled Mariszka's number again, praying that she would answer the phone.

– Yes, Misha? Is something wrong? – I heard her voice.

– Yes, something's wrong! I'm begging you, I'm begging you! Don't call your parents! – I pleaded desperately.

– Oh, that's what you mean… I'm glad you called again, because Markus heard our conversation and told me to stay out of your life, so it wouldn't be like…» She cleared her throat loudly, clearly not finishing something.

– Your habit of not finishing things is a little annoying» I said, intrigued by her words.

– It's nothing. I wanted to tell you this before you run off on your own. Just please be careful, and don't ever come into contact with people, ever, apart from your studies. Don't make any mortal friends, and in general, don't socialise with them, because mortals are the real evil.

«I wonder why Mariszka disliked people so much» – I wondered, because she used to say that people were food, but not evil.

– In that case, too, I can reassure you: I'm not going to do that! Not since-» I almost said: «Cedric advised me» but I corrected myself, «ever since Martin told me about the incident in Chicago, I haven't had the slightest desire to talk to them. And I'm prepared to be thought of as an arrogant fool or a bore.

Mariszka laughed.

– If you want that you definitely no one to communicate with you, be hysterical: to the nerds are attracted to the same kind, and hysterical ones hate their kind, – she said.

It was like a huge stone fell from my soul. And I was so moved that I put my right hand to my rib cage. Of course, it's a bad habit to express my emotions so directly, but I couldn't help it, so my hand went to my rib cage when I felt tenderness, or saw cute animals, or watched heart-wrenching films, or listened to the same music.

– Well, I've always been good at being hysterical» I grinned. – Don't worry about me, I know what I'm doing. Say hello to Cedric from me and tell him that I got into Oxford!

Mariszka didn't answer anything.

– Hey, are you still there? – I asked, not hearing her answer for a minute.

– Yeah, yeah. Just thinking. All right, go to your England, but watch me! And study hard!

– Well, I can't promise that, as this is the first university of my life,' I said. – But I'll do my best.

– And call me often! And now I'm sorry, but I have some urgent paperwork to do.

– Then I won't bother you. And thank you for understanding.

– But please, Misha, don't make us all regret it later.

– You won't regret it. And no one will regret it. And when I have free time, I'll fly to Prague to see you.

– Okay, we'll talk about it. Bye!

– Bye! Say hi to Cedric for me!

I switched off and quickly ran to Maria’s room to ask her to tell me about her life and her studies in Oxford.

The world was getting colourful again, and I was already dreaming of stopping by my university flat and meeting my roommates. Of course, I wasn't lying about not talking to people (well, trying to), but roommates are a different matter! You can't live in one flat and not talk to them or even say hello to them!

And the things? What kind of things do I need to take with me to live in this female anthill? I didn't know much about what a 'university flat' was and how it functioned: my knowledge of it came from youth films and TV series. What kind of clothes are worn in Oxford? How do students get to the university? Do they need a car or can they get there by bicycle? All these questions occupied me, giving me a thrill and a thrill: it would be a completely different life!

I knocked on Maria’s room and entered without permission. My sister was packing clothes in a large black suitcase: she and our brothers would soon be leaving for the place where they lived. Since they were a hundred years old, each of them had left their parents' home and had travelled many times from place to place. Maria was now living in Ottawa, Martin in Croatia, and Mścislav was in his third year of an expedition to the Himalayas with his vampire friends who had kindly agreed to wait for his return from our sister Mariszka's wedding. And now that that wedding was over and I was allowed to go to England, Mariszka and the brothers were preparing to leave.

It took my breath away to think that I would be leaving this house and our parents with them.

– A sweet little bird who wants to leave her nest! – Maria said cheerfully when she saw me. – I heard your conversation with Mariszka.

– At first she was categorically against my admission! – I also cheerfully exclaimed.

– Don't worry, Mariszka has always been tedious.

– Well, maybe she's overprotective of me. And about the bird: you yourself were the same! – I parried, coming to my sister's bed, with legs climbed on it.

– Why do you need that dress in Ottawa? – I asked, seeing something black in lace. – I took the piece of satin, which I thought barely covered anything, and twirled it around in my hands.

– This is not a dress, but a negligee! – Maria said with a laugh, took the satin from me and threw it into my suitcase. – But it's too early for you to wear such things, so don't get excited.

– And I'm not going to! – I snorted back.

– I was just about to ask you: how did you manage to get into Oxford without leaving Poland? – My sister asked, sitting down next to me.

I looked at her and couldn't believe that she was almost two hundred years older than me, when to others we were the same age.

– It wasn't easy. You know you have to come to the interview in person, and I was afraid that my offer to do it over Skype would be rejected. But I took precaution and sent them a certificate that I have a severe form of bronchitis and for health reasons…

– Where did you get it from, you wretch? – Maria laughed.

– I forged it, of course! But I did not lie so much: I am forbidden to go outside our garden, if I am not with my parents or one of you. Well, I'll tell you more: I was interviewed on Skype, they asked me questions, sometimes stupid and illogical, but I answered them all, and it was not easy for me… I was so excited that I forgot many English words! But they praised me for my interesting answers and said that my English was very funny: correct, but with a Polish accent. I sent my documents online, and now I just need to transfer the money for my studies, but Martin said he would take care of it!

– Clever girl. And what college did you get into?

– St John's College, philosophy department.

Maria propped her chin up with her palm and sighed.

– I went there once… But that was fifty years ago» she said, closing her eyes dreamily. – Oh, what parties were organised there!

– Fifty years ago? But Mścislav advised me…» I began in surprise, not understanding my brother's logic.

– He did the right thing! Yes, I studied at St. John's fifty years ago, but only three years ago I graduated from another college – All Saints'. By the way, your sister was a big name there!

– Then why don't you tell me about living in a university flat? – I asked.

– What? – Maria looked at me in disbelief. – I've heard about it, but I thought you were joking.

I shrugged silently.

– 'My naive little sister, you're not living in a university flat! You know what? I'll find you a nice family to rent you a flat – it's much better than living among mortal girls. Besides, your social circle should be strictly limited to teachers and tutors.

– Why do you think so? – I asked unhappily, because in my dreams I was already safely ensconced in my university flat.

– Because you don't belong in the circle of mortals. Especially among girls. Living in a sorority is horrible. It's not what you see in the films, believe me. I lived in a university flat for a year and then I moved into a private flat. I couldn't get along there, and you certainly can't.

– Thank you for your support! – I exclaimed wryly.

Maria smiled sweetly and continued packing her clothes into her suitcase.

– I don't mean that you are weak. I'm saying that living in a university flat, you won't be able to eat properly» she explained.

Eat? I'd forgotten about that… No, I hadn't thought about it, because I'd always eaten at home, not caring how the blood got on our table or in our glasses. Well, my table, because my parents only ate on the hunt.

– No one is going to serve you fresh blood in a nice bottle» Maria added, probably noticing my confusion.

– But… How am I supposed to eat? – I frowned.

– If you rent a flat, you'll find a way. In fact, I think it's time for you to get your own blood.

– You mean killing people? – I clarified.

– Yes, killing. But I'm worried about how you'll do it: no one taught you how to hunt. That's a parental failure!

– I don't think killing is that hard» I replied calmly. – Martin has told me a thousand times about killing. Especially the case of the German postman: I've heard about it dozens of times and in the most vivid colours.

– Listening to Martin is one thing, but killing is quite another. Killing is hard both mentally and physically. Especially at your age

– But you learnt how to do it somehow» I argued.

– I did. I mean, my parents taught me.

– And I'll learn, eventually. I'm a vampire, and it's my destiny, and I'm as strong and agile as you are, aren't I?

– Pretty much. It takes a lot of training to control your abilities. You can't learn it all at once. – Maria looked at me seriously. – So, think about it, Misha, think about it.

I looked at my sister and thought that I would be perfectly able to cope with all this. After all, I am Misha Mroczek. A vampire. I'm no worse than my sisters.

But I didn't say anything.

– I'll get you a flat in East Oxford, on Cowley Road, where I used to live. Don't worry about a thing, I'll sort it out» Maria said suddenly.

I nodded absently: it still hadn't dawned on me that I'd have to feed myself. I would have to hunt people and kill them.

«It'll be okay, because this is just another step in my development. I need to grow up and become a real vampire» I reassured myself, but I felt vaguely afraid of the uncertainty ahead.

But Maria began to tell me about her studies at Oxford, and that fear vanished. As I listened to her, my heart burned with a desire to go there as soon as possible. I imagined how I would wear a strict black and white uniform, ride to college on a bicycle, sit in lectures… And about the food… No one will never know why I don't eat in the college canteen, because in my head I had a wonderful story that would be my most natural excuse.

– What are you smiling at? – Maria asked in surprise.

I woke up from my thoughts.

– I'm just glad that I'm finally going to be free. I guess your parents didn't treat you the way they treat me. You know, you tell me about your life there, and I see it all before my eyes» I explained. – But I need you to tell me how, where, and when to kill.

– Oh, that goes without saying. So just sit there and memorise. It's better to mark everything on the map, though.

I ran to my room and came back to my sister with a map of Oxford.

– Well, let's get started! Give me a pencil» Maria said.

We sat down on the bed and my sister began her instruction, which I didn't understand or even remember at all.

The next day Maria flew away, leaving me a list of advice handwritten in her beautiful calligraphic handwriting. Rereading it, I involuntarily laughed at the stupidest and banal, but so ridiculous situations described. For example: «If a pigeon shits on you, don't get angry and don't show your displeasure with words, gestures or facial expressions, otherwise everyone will think that you hate pigeons and birds in general. To avoid such a fate, always carry a spare robe with you.» Or: «If you get hit by a cyclist, don't get up from the pavement at once, but pretend to hit something (preferably your hand), then scold him a little, but don't overdo it, get up and with a disgruntled face leave, accepting his sincere (and not so sincere) apologies». But that was just the flowers untill I got to the point of how to behave in the ladies' toilet, I just couldn't stop laughing: «Never, under any circumstances, slam the doors, otherwise, the cleaning lady Mrs. Rees will have a heart attack. Always close doors gently, calmly, like a lady, even if you're being chased by a maniac with a huge knife.»

«Thank you, Maria, I shall remember your advice. Mrs. Rees mustn't get hurt!» – I thought, turning the sheet over to read the other side of it as well:

Now seriously. Never (ever!) break these rules:

1. Eat strictly on schedule.

2. Don't use your abilities on mortals, even in self-defence. They can't do anything to you anyway.

3. Always turn off the lights at night, otherwise, the neighbours will realise that you never sleep at all.

4. Cut off any attempts at contact by mortals. Communicate with them only as a last resort.

5. No flirting with mortal guys.

6. Act like a human, but don't forget who you are.

7. Suppress your feelings of pity for mortals.

8. Do not eat human food.

9. Never interact with Frederik Haraldson. Never.

10. Never break these rules under any circumstances.

I thoughtfully folded the sheet in half and started thinking about all these rules. So: no socialising with humans or Frederik, no eating human food (although I wasn't going to – it's so gross), no disrupting the meal schedule, no drawing attention to my person. Not such complicated rules.

When I remembered that Maria had rented a flat for me, I glanced at the address and smiled broadly: my sister had assured me that the owners of the flat were very intelligent mortals who never disturbed the tenant's peace, which would be great for me, a vampire.

Now all I had to do was pack my bags and wait for my scheduled departure date from Warsaw to London. Martin had nobly volunteered to take me straight to the door of my flat in Oxford, but I talked him out of it, so that I would feel grown up and not look stupid in the eyes of my possible college mates. So I personally booked a ticket on a regular flight so I wouldn't have to fly on our private jet. I had already looked up how to get from London airport to Oxford and eagerly scribbled down the numbers on my calendar.

Finally, the long awaited day for me arrived. I remember how clear and blue the sky was that day, how the dead leaves of the trees in our garden rustled and seemed to say to me, «Goodbye, Misha!». The soft autumn sun glided golden rays across my pale skin. The air – fresh, smelling of fallen leaves, I remembered forever.

My parents got into the car in the garage to avoid the sun, and I looked round the house, said goodbye to it mentally, and only then got into the car waiting for me in the yard.

Sometimes I thought: How strange… Would I, too, eventually hide from the sun? How could I bear to be separated from it?

And so, our car drove to the airport. My things could hardly fit in the big boot because I couldn't choose anything special to live in England, so I took almost half of my huge wardrobe with me.

At the airport, I hugged my parents (we said goodbye to my brothers and Maria a long time ago because they were already parted). Of course, they were looking at me with concern in their eyes, as if I was leaving to live in Africa forever, and their behaviour irritated me a little, so I hurried to go to the control.

– Call me when you arrive. And feel free to use your credit card» Dad told me lastly.

Mum smiled silently, but tears glistened in her eyes.

– Vyslav, why is she crying? I'm coming soon, for Christmas! I'll call you, but I warn you – we won't say goodbye for a long time, otherwise Stefania will flood the whole airport with her tears! – I warned her. Since we looked the same age to people, I called my parents by their first names outside the house.

– She's always been very sensitive» my father smiled and put his arm around her shoulders.

– Yeah, I noticed it at Mariszka's wedding! – I said unhappily (then mum only knew how to sob). – Well, stop it, Stefania, I'm not dying!

– Okay, go to the landing, otherwise, she will not let you go, – said my father jokingly.

I hurriedly moved away from my parents.

– I'll make a phone call! – I shouted to them, and then quickly went through security, found my flight, boarded the plane and took my seat.

«Dear passengers, please fasten your seatbelts» I soon heard and involuntarily smiled in anticipation of the flight.

Everything around was new for me, absolutely unknown, interesting, and I looked at the passengers, the stewardesses, and the situation with all my eyes. I watched people, because I had never been in human society before, and even in an aeroplane: I had always flown only on my parents' private plane, and now the huge real world stunned me.

Unfortunately, I was unlucky with my neighbour: she was an older, full brunette who slept the whole way and snored quietly, sometimes chewing her lips, but it made me laugh and I didn't even turn on the music to watch her.

The flight went by quickly, or maybe it seemed that way to me. After landing, everyone suddenly started clapping their hands, and I was not lagging behind, although I wondered what all this action was for. And when people started to get off the plane, I was breathless at the thought that I was already in England. I walked out on wobbly legs, realising with all my being that I had entered another world, a world belonging to people… And in another country, another culture, another language environment!

Thanks to my keen people-watching, I successfully picked up my luggage, but I had to hire a loadman to do it – my numerous bags were «beyond my strength». Of course, I could have easily carried them myself, but in people's eyes I was just a fragile girl, and I could feel the admiring glances. I felt uncomfortable with all the attention.

I went out of the airport building to hire a taxi (the luggage handler rolled my bags behind me on a trolley), but, as it turned out, there were no cars in the car park. I was confused, not expecting such a turn of events and previously believing that there was a whole crowd of taxi drivers waiting for me, hungry for my money.

– Miss Mroczek! – I suddenly heard an unfamiliar male voice not far from me.

«Is it calling for me? It can't be, because nobody knows me here!» – I thought, but I turned round to see the voice calling my name.

– Miss Mroczek… Misha Mroczek… It's you, isn't it? – A rather tall, dark-haired guy came up to me, and of course he spoke English.

There was no limit to my surprise.

– Yes» I replied. – Do I know you?

The guy grinned and looked me over from head to toe. His tactlessness caught me uncomfortably off guard.

– My eyes are actually here! – I told him sternly.

– Oh, I apologise… No, I haven't met you yet, but I've been waiting for you to show up for over an hour» he said confusedly. – My name is Harry Smith: my family is your landlord.

– It's nice to meet you, Harry, but I don't understand why you've been waiting for me. – I was even more surprised.

– I'll take you to the flat» he replied.

– Thank you, of course, but I could have got there on my own.

– I hope you won't insist on travelling alone to Oxford: I just thought it would be more convenient for you if I picked you up from the airport, and you wouldn't have the hassle of travelling and the extra cost of a taxi.

I was confused: this Harry had completely ruined my plans and my independent, carefully thought-out itinerary. At first I wanted to refuse him, but then I thought he'd come for me on purpose, and I felt sorry for the guy for having to wait for me for over an hour. Me, a girl he didn't even know.

– All right, Harry. And thanks for coming to get me, it's my pleasure» I finally said.

– Glad to help. So, where are your bags? – he said cheerfully.

I nodded towards the loader.

Harry grinned.

– Four huge bags?

– Yeah.

– Did you bring the whole wardrobe with you?

– Almost» I answered seriously, frowning at his mocking tone. – But I don't think that's any of your business at all.

Harry blushed a little.

– 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. – He smiled embarrassedly.

– It's okay, and I'm sorry» I said, feeling extremely awkward.

We walked in silence to his car, a big grey Jeep. Harry started to put my bags in the boot, and I paid the baggage handler and tipped him.

Then Harry and I got into the car.

– Don't forget to buckle up» the guy said as he started the engine.

I grinned and buckled my seatbelt, Harry did the same, and only then did we pull out of the car park and onto the road.

– How did you recognise me? – I asked.

– It was easy: your sister told my mother that you were a beautiful, thin, long-haired blonde» he replied.

«I'm not that thin!» – I thought grudgingly. The compliment left me completely indifferent: I was fed up with the admiration of others. It annoyed me.

– Are the students moving in already? – I asked, turning the conversation to another topic.

– I think so, but to be honest I don't know, as I'm rarely in Oxford.

– Why? I thought you lived there.

– Almost. We only live there in the summer, and for the school year we rent a flat and move to London» said the guy. – Can I ask you something?

– Please. – I was very amused by his tetchy English.

– Why Oxford?

This question, often asked of me by my parents, made me smile.

– Because Oxford is my dream» I admitted honestly, glancing at Harry.

He smiled, and I thought about the fact that he was pretty good-looking. But then I tapped myself on the forehead with an open palm.

– Oh, I forgot! – came out of my mouth in Polish.

– What?» Harry asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise: he obviously didn't know Polish.

– I remembered that I forgot something very important in Poland! – I mumbled in English.

I had forgotten what I should have taken in the first place – Maria’s list of rules.

– It happens to everyone» Harry smiled. – By the way, you don't have to buy a bicycle, you can ride Mary's.

– Mary? – I asked.

– Yes, that's my sister. She's seventeen. She's gone to stay with our uncle in Scotland, and her bike is all yours.

– That's great» I said, but I didn't feel any joy.

– You and your sister look very much alike. How many years older is she than you? – The guy suddenly asked.

– Seven» I answered without thinking.

A rather pointless, banal question.

– I wouldn't say that: it's like you're the same age. And her hair is the same golden colour.

I grinned at his compliment on my hair.

– Sisters always look alike» I said.

– Yeah, I guess so.

We fell silent.

I decided to take advantage of the silence and call home as promised and ask my mum to send me Maria’s list.

Taking out my blue smartphone, I dialled my mum's number.

– Hi, I'm already in England. – I switched to Polish so Harry wouldn't understand my conversation with my mum.

– Hi, how was your flight? – Mum asked in a tired voice.

– It was great: there was an lady sitting next to me and she was snoring right in my ear» I replied with a smile. – Mum, I forgot something at home, could you send it to me by post?

– What is it?

– In my room, in one of my desk drawers, there's a piece of paper – it's the advice Maria wrote to make my long-suffering life at Oxford easier.

– Yes, I found it. It's funny, Maria has a real talent for satire.

– Send it to me today, will you? Ordinary post, registered mail. I'll text you the address.

– Okay. Where are you now?

– I'm on my way to Oxford. Hired a car.

«It's a good thing this mortal bloke doesn't speak Polish! I can't tell him I'm taking a taxi. «And I can't tell my mum I'm in a car with someone else!» – I was relieved

– OK. I'm working now, so I'll call you tonight.

– It's not necessary, but I'll call you when I'm free.

– I look forward to your call then , sweetheart.

– Bye, Mum.

I disconnected the call and noticed Harry was smiling.

– What's wrong? – I asked him.

– 'Polish is a bit strange and sounds funny to the English ear,' he replied. – But I think it's a very beautiful and original language.

– Thank you. But, you know, not many foreigners think so, – I said sincerely.

– Why?

– 'They think it has too many funny sounds, hisses and the like.

«Well, there, I've been breaking the most important rule for about half an hour now: don't socialise with people. But that's how you die of boredom!» – I thought mockingly.

We chatted all the way to Oxford, Harry telling me about his sister, about his family, about what Mary was like when he saw her. As for me, I didn't tell him anything about myself, but was careful to keep the conversation neutral.

Finally, we arrived in the city of my dreams. Oxford.

As soon as we got there, despite Harry's displeasure, I poked my head out the window to look at the streets: people were going somewhere, with and without their bags, a huge number of bicycles were scattering the roads, and I felt with all my soul that I was free at last. My dream had come true: I was in Oxford!

Harry stopped the car outside a two-storey stone house, a rather old-looking building that reminded me of the Morgans' castle in Prague.

– Welcome to your new home! – said the guy, getting out of the car.

I got out too and stared mesmerised at the marvel.

– I think I ordered a flat, not a house! – I exclaimed with sincere admiration.

– Well, yes, it is your flat. It's just that all the living rooms are on the ground floor, and the upstairs is where we keep the stuff we're leaving until next summer» Harry explained to me.

– Yeah, but I'll still be the mistress of the whole house! – I laughed.

The Englishman looked at me intently.

– A tenant» he reminded me.

«How tedious and boring he is!» – I thought mockingly, covering my eyes with the palm of my hand.

– Are you ill? Do you have a headache?

I took my palm away from my eyes; Harry was looking at me with concern.

– No, I'm not. It's just that you're very tedious» I couldn't help but grin mockingly again.

– Tedious? – He asked in surprise.

– Very tedious» I clarified. – Don't take offence.

– Don't worry, I think I understand why you thought that. – He took one of my bags out of the boot and walked up the low stairs to a very modern but antique-patterned door. – We English don't call it «something tedious», but «love of order».

I couldn't find anything to say, so I just followed Harry upstairs and stopped behind him, waiting for him to open the door.

– The key's a little stiff here. You've got to push it a little harder. Just a minute… – Harry started fiddling with the key in the lock.

We stood like that for about three minutes.

– Let me try» I suggested, after Harry's failed attempt to open the door.

– You think that if I can't open the damn lock, you can? – The guy asked a little mockingly, looking at me.

– Wanna bet? – I suggested calmly, knowing the outcome in advance.

– Betting is silly.

– Afraid of losing to a girl? – I grinned.

He laughed softly, a pleasant enough laugh.

– Well, you asked for it. What's the bet?

– A wish» I said, deciding to teach him a lesson for his love of order.

The guy held out his hand to me with a smug look. I shook it.

– Your hands are cold. Are you cold? – he asked thoughtfully.

– Yes, I am, so I want to get inside» I said hurriedly, taking the keys from him.

And to be really cold in this amazingly sunny weather would be foolish.

With a little effort, I opened the door with ease and looked up at Harry victoriously.

He was surprised, his eyebrows almost touching the roots of his hair.

– It's some kind of miracle» he said with a smile.

Instead of answering, I walked defiantly into the house.

– Tell me, how did you do it? No one's ever been able to open that lock the first time» Harry asked, following me in.

– Not Maria, either? – I grinned.

– The lock was still alive when your sister was here» the guy said.

Harry dragged three more bags into the hallway and grinned derisively.

– I wonder how you'd carry all those bags yourself? – He asked.

– At least you have a sense of humour» I retorted, strolling through the rooms.

I was happy because I was in my own… Well, okay, rented house for a year, where I would start my adult life on my own and do what I wanted to do, like cry.

– It has everything I need: kitchen, entrance hall, lounge, living room, bathroom, two bedrooms…

– Two bedrooms? – I was surprised.

– Two bedrooms» Harry repeated. – Lights, heating. There's nothing interesting on the upper floors, unless you're interested in the old junk in the attic. That's where your bike is, by the way. – He went up the stairs and I continued to look round my little castle.

My flat or should I say house was very clean and cosy. I thought fondly of how nice it was to be here, much nicer than in my own Art Nouveau house in Warsaw. I felt as if I had come home from a long trip, and all the things in the house were glad to have me back. The windows, the curtains, the furniture, the parquet floor covered with beige soft carpet, the lamps, the lampshades – everything was imbued with true English style and tranquillity, and the bedrooms even had fireplaces, but unfortunately electric.

I took off my blue jacket and hung it on a hanger in the wardrobe in the hallway.

– There's your bike! – I heard Harry's voice and his footsteps on the creaking stairs.

The guy came down the hallway and placed a very nice dark blue bicycle with a bell in front of me.

– It matches the colour of my jacket! – I said cheerfully and snapped my finger on the bell.

The whole house immediately responded with a high-pitched ringing.

Harry looked at me strangely.

– You're very pretty» he said, embarrassed.

– It's not about looks, it's about soul» I replied stony-faced, but then I softened. – Thank you for driving me. I really like your house: it's very cosy. Where do you want me to put my bike?

– By the porch. Don't worry, no one will take it» Harry said. – Open the door.

He lifted the bike, I held the front door open, and we walked out of the house, down the stairs, and Harry leaned his two-wheeled friend against it.

– It's so amazing! People aren't as bad as I used to think» I said, pleasantly surprised by Harry's words.

– Why do you dislike people so much? – Harry asked, walking over to me.

– Because most people don't look at your soul, they look at your appearance: how you're dressed, what your hair is like… Whether you're pretty or not… It's hard to explain. I think it's time for you to go, don't you? – I wanted to get rid of his presence as soon as possible, and now I regretted breaking the rule: «Don't talk to people.»

Harry seemed to understand and smiled.

– Actually, yes. By the way, you can buy groceries at the shop around the corner because it's cheaper there than in other shops. The fridge is in the kitchen… I think that's it. And you've won our bet – you're right on your wish.

I frowned: I didn't really feel like laughing at the poor guy who'd been so nice to me. The peace and quiet of the house must have discouraged me from trying to teach the Englishman a lesson for being a bore.

– I'll think about it: I can't think of anything now. – I shrugged my shoulders.

– Then I'll be going. Oh, and when you come up with something, or if you need anything, give me a call. Here. – Harry pulled a business card out of his jacket pocket and held it out to me.

I hesitated.

«Is he trying to flirt with me?» – I thought grudgingly, but took the card anyway, thinking that I might actually have to call him about the house.

– Okay» I said.

– I left the house keys in the living room. And I forgot to tell you, if you get cold, there's an electric fireplace in your bedroom. Do you know how to switch it on? I can show you.

– No, thanks, I have one just like it at home» I lied hastily, laughing in my heart at his concern: I'll never freeze!

– That's it, then . I'll go» he said hesitantly, looking at me intently.

– Go on, they're probably waiting for you. – I wanted Harry to go away and leave me alone.

– Yeah… By the way, the hot water runs 24/7 and our house is serviced by a postman. – Harry finally started walking towards his car.

– Thanks, I'll take care of it. Goodbye, Harry. – I quickly walked into the house and closed the door behind me.

«What a tedious fellow! Very nice, though» I thought.

I remembered the business card and ran my eyes over it: «Harry Smith. Lawyer.»

«Lawyer? Doesn't look like it» – I tossed the business card carelessly on the table and started sorting through my bags.

As I pulled all my belongings out of my bags and placed them in relative order around my new home, I immediately remembered Harry's mocking words about the number of bags. He was right: my clothes and shoes didn't fit in the large wardrobe of the bedroom I'd chosen for myself, but I moved them to the wardrobe of the next bedroom, which was right behind mine, so I didn't have to run far, and my shoes were lined up in the hallway. As the sweet unpacking came to an end, I glanced at the little clock, which looked more like a vase hanging on the wall, and it appeared that I had been up late into the night-the little hand pointed to three o'clock.

Suddenly I thought of Maria's rule: «Always switch off the lights at night» and I switched off all the lamps and lampshades in the house one by one. The house was dark, but not for me: my eyesight allowed me to see even a needle in the darkest darkness, and since the yellow light of the lantern outside the window illuminated the streets and, through the windows, part of the house, it was quite bright.

Tomorrow I would have to go to the seamstress and order a college robe, some white blouses, black skirts, and a black ribbon around my neck, like an Oxford tie. And then all this will have to be thrown home and go to the post office (what if the letter managed to reach Oxford in such a short time?). And it is necessary not to miss the parcel from Warsaw, so important for me – my relatives have provided me with «humanitarian aid» and sent me a large container with donor blood, which I will feed on until I go out on the first hunt of my life. And about that… I decided that I was definitely not going to hunt anytime soon: first, I had to get used to the mortal way of life.

In the meantime, all I could do was sit in my dark room, burning with the urge to get out of the house and walk around the city, to look around and taste the freedom.

How uncomfortable it was to be a vampire during the night hours! How inconvenient not to sleep, but to be constantly awake and hiding in the house, not daring to switch on the light, and dying of boredom.

I went to the window and looked at the neighbouring houses: they stood silent, somewhat sullen in the yellow rays of the lantern, and no light was burning in any of the windows. The people were asleep.

To keep myself busy, I decided to iron all the clothes that were wrinkled in my bags, but there was no ironing board in the house, so I ironed them on my bed without turning on the light. It took me about three hours, but even then , the city was still asleep.

I watched the hands of the clock eagerly, waiting to see if it would show six o'clock in the morning: my plan was to take my Walkman and jog through the waking town.

Finally, the light of the lanterns faded against the misty English dawn.

«At last! What boredom awaits me at night!» – I thought as I changed into linen shorts and T-shirt. In the hallway I quickly put on my sneakers, plugged my headphones into my ears, turned on my Walkman, walked out of the house, closed the door, went down the stairs and slowly ran along the beautiful street paved with big stones, meeting no one on my way, as if there were no people in this city at all.

The English morning even smelt different: something unfamiliar, it was different from home, and I felt acutely pleased with myself.

I ran down the street, smiling and listening to my favourite tunes playing in my headphones.

Soon I came across the first person of the morning, an elderly man walking his dachshund in one of the parks: the dog followed him lazily and sleepily, lolling from one paw to the other. Following the man, I met two girls running towards me and jogging too.

«How cool it must be to run and chat with a friend!» – I thought to myself as I followed them with my gaze.

Slowly the city came alive: people were coming out of their houses, saying hello, waving, nodding, going somewhere. Cafes were opening (I knew that shops in Oxford didn't open before ten o'clock), and more and more cars and cyclists were appearing on the roads.

The morning was in full swing.

Looking at my watch, I realised I'd been running for an hour and a half without a break, so I stopped and deliberately breathed heavily, like people do after a run. Looking around, I realised that I was in a strange place, with no money, and I had to run back for an hour and a half to get home. But there was nothing to do: I turned round and ran home, luckily I had an excellent memory. I never had much desire to run in the morning, but this morning's run through the waking city was so pleasant that I made a promise to myself to do it every morning in any weather.

I got home by nine o'clock, ran up the stairs to the door, took the key out of my shorts pocket and started to open the door, but the key stubbornly refused to go through the lock.

«What is this nonsense? I guess I'll have to change the lock!» – I thought grudgingly, trying hopelessly to defeat it, and trying so hard that I bent the key. – Well, wonderful! And the morning was so pleasant!»

I sat down pensively on the step, and suddenly I heard the creak of the lock turning: it sounded so loud that it could be heard even through the music.

It made me jump to my feet, hurriedly removing my headphones and staring at the door.

Someone there in the house was opening the door from the other side!

Suddenly the door swung wide open, almost hitting me, and a thin black-haired girl with a short guyish haircut and a nose piercing appeared in front of me.

– Hi, and you must be Marsha? – she asked me in English, in a pleasant, slightly high voice.

I was taken aback.

«What the hell is that?» – went through my head.

– Misha » I corrected. – And who are you, I beg your pardon?

– I'm Mary Smith, the lady of the house, but don't worry, I won't take too much space.