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I've gotta say, these are probably the easiest and most fun ones to write that I've ever done. For the zillionth time, special thanks go out to britney628 and DimitrisDuchess for being the only ones to feed my review addiction. XD (I try to put at least one of those per story, 'cause hey: if we don't, who will?) Bientôt je vais devoir trouver une nouvelle façon de dire que...peut-être dans une différente langue la fois suivante. (Copy that into an online French-English translator if you're that curious.)
Anyway. They're in Northampton, England now, which is right in the middle of England; a bit north of London. (I would've done London itself but it's too common. You think England, you think London.) The title of this chapter is also a Beatles song, because I love the Beatles, and it fits, and they're in England...ha ha. You get it. Takes place 1932. Remember whether I mention him or not, Pooka's been there for all of these locations.... Read & Review. Enjoy.
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"'S'is the place?"
"Yeah, thanks." Anya leaned forward in her seat and handed the cab driver his money as Dimitri got out and headed for the trunk. The rain was coming down hard, and she pulled her jacket up over her head before she opened the door to follow him.
She made sure Pooka hopped out before slamming the door, then went around to help with the luggage before the trunk became a swimming pool.
"I've got it," Dimitri tried. His hair was already plastered to his head and his shirt was soaked, which was exactly what he got for not wearing a coat. Served him right---it was her suggestion.
Anya grabbed a suitcase anyway. "No you don't."
"Why is it the rain in London is wetter than rain anywhere else?"
"We're not in London."
Dimittri rolled his eyes. "Whatever. It's British."
"I don't think British weather has anything against you," Anya assured, slamming the trunk closed. At that, the cab driver drove off, and sent up a tidal wave of rainwater from the gutter.
Anya looked at her skirt, mentally adding it to the list of things they owned that were now completely soaked. "Great. Perfect."
"So. Do we get inside or do we build an ark?" He tilted his head toward the building.
"Well, as partial as I am to the ark idea..." All of a sudden Anya turned and ran for the door, shouting "Race ya!" over her shoulder.
"Hey!" Dimitri sprinted after her, which was not easy with three suitcases to deal with. They were both laughing by the time he caught her.
It was an interesting sight watching them try to shove each other out of the way and make it through the door, especially since it was a revolving door and they were both blocked by luggage. Eventually they both crashed into the building, laughing and drenched and landing in a heap on the floor. The bellhop stared at them as if they were both medically out of their minds, but they didn't care. The verdict was still out on that one.
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"Hey. What're these?"
He stopped ruffling though his hair with the towel and picked up one of the records from the suitcase he'd been unpacking. It was a strange find, considering they didn't own any.
Anya came out of the bathroom in a new, dry dress, and looked at what he was talking about. "Records, I guess," she answered matter-of-factly.
Dimitri gave her a 'no, really?' look. "Oh, well thank you, your grace---I would never have had a clue," he sighed sarcastically. "I mean, why were they in our suitcase."
Anya crossed the rug and flipped through the stack of vinyl sleeves. She recognized most of the artists. "These are Sophie's. We must have packed them by accident."
Dimitri glanced around the room. He found what he was looking for on the desk by the window. "Well," he said, spreading the stack out on the bed, "we might as well put them to good use. Pick one."
Anya smiled. She knew what he was doing, and she played along, shutting her eyes and tapping one of the records at random. When she opened them, she picked the selection up---Kay Kyser, one of Sophie's favorites---and handed it to him.
"Not bad." Slipping the album out of its case, he took it to the record player by the window. There was a pause, a low screech from the needle, and the room filled with the gentle swing of Kay Kyser and the band.
"Remember the boat?" he asked with a smile, taking her hand.
She put her other hand on his shoulder and glanced upward, pretending to think it over. "Right---so who was teaching who again?"
He laughed. Slowly, getting their footing, they began a decent waltz around the room.
"You're getting better," Anya observed.
"Must be all those lessons," Dimitri joked in return, and she laughed. After a moment, she grabbed both ends of the towel around his neck and pulled his head toward hers until they were nose-to-nose.
"You," she told him softly, "are a terrible liar." Tilting her head to the side, she kissed him, pulling away only when she had to breathe again.
"You know," he pointed out after that, "it's almost strange not to be interrupted by the mutt."
Anya laughed again, but then she thought of something, and she turned around, scanning the floor. "Where is Pooka, anyway?"
"Beats me." Somehow, it always comes back to that dog. Forget the dog for two seconds.
"Pooka? Pooka! Here boy!" Before she knew it Anya was on her hands and knees, looking under the bed, looking out the door into the hall, even scouring through the contents of the open suitcase. Nothing. "Pooka! C'mon boy!"
She knew her dog, and if Pooka had heard her calling, he would've been there by now. She was sure of it. Turning to Dimitri with a shrug and more concern than most would have, she stated, "He's not here."
"Relax. He's probably just outside destroying the flowerbed. Or playing with some kid, or chasing a squirrell, or doing whatever else he does." Dimitri was always good at comforting her, but this time it was a lot harder---how was he supposed to find something good to say about the mutt?
Anya shook her head. "I have to find him."
Sighing, she could tell the guy in front of her didn't think of that as a 'fun' way to spend a trip to Britain. Still, he was on board---he had to be. It was part of the whole 'married' deal. "We'll find him," he corrected.
"Really?"
"Really. Get a coat---let's go before I come to my senses, shall we?"
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Asking locals if they'd seen a small, rambunctious grey dog had a funny way of leading a person in circles. They got a series of vague answers that led from the doorman at the hotel all the way up to Northampton's upper border. "He went that way." "Ask this guy." "Ask that guy." "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." Oy.
They finally got a sufficient answer at a train station, which, by the way, is the last place you'd hope to find a sufficient answer.
"Yeah, sure," a coal-streaked worker was saying. "I saw a pup just like that. Wasn't he part of the live cargo to St. Petersburg? It just shipped off a few hours ago."
Both their eyes went wide. Anya looked at Dimitri. Dimitri looked at Anya.
"No."
The worker just laughed.
"He is now."
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Oohhhh! You know where they're headed next! I know I said they wouldn't go back to St. Petersburg, and I meant that, but I meant they wouldn't live there. They would go back briefly---once, and only once. Crazy dog wandered off, got distracted, and ended up as cargo. He sure is good at making trouble! ;D Stay tuned, and aw, come on, you know how fun it is to get reviews....
