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Driving Lessons
Chapter 12 - Lost in the Flood
It was morning, dawn crept through the windows and England was grateful that the night was over. He had been sat in the same position on his sofa for the last 8 hours. The reason for this was because he was afraid. The reason he was afraid was because Russia's large blond head was in his lap and every time England moved, the sleeping Nation growled.
Russia's snoring sounded like a freight train with an angry bear on board.
The day before…
Germany saw Russia and beat a hasty retreat. "You'll be hearing from my lawyers," he told England as he prepared to go. Quickly.
"Me? Why?" Russia asked.
"Not you. I mean England."
"Why not me? Why shouldn't I hear from your lawyer?" Russia asked.
"Because you didn't throw a desk onto my car." Germany said after a pause. He pointed to ensure Russia knew he wasn't just leaving him out on purpose.
"I'll call you a cab," England said, praying that Prussia and Denmark's cab would be the said cab.
"I could have! I can throw desks out of windows," Russia walked around the car, examining it with professional interest. "Very good. But I would have dropped it on the windscreen," Russia said and promptly smashed the windscreen with his fist.
"Aaargh! My car! What is wrong with you?" Germany yelled.
England smiled as he ordered the cab.
Russia stepped towards Germany and loomed over him, "I don't like you, Germany," he said simply.
Germany stepped back. "This is unacceptable," he muttered.
"I think they've done quite a good job of destroying your car," Russia said, misinterpreting the word 'unacceptable'. "I would have done a better job though."
"I'm not saying they haven't done an acceptable job, I mean… oh never mind."
"Erm, Russia why are you here?" England ventured as he hung up the phone.
Russia turned to look at him, "I have business with you," he said mysteriously and poked him hard in the chest. So hard in fact that England was convinced it would leave a bruise.
"Wha…wha… what business?" England stammered. Nobody ever wanted to have business with Russia.
"Well, I'll leave you to that," Germany said as a taxi pulled up. "I'm sure you have a lot to talk about." He got in the taxi. "My lawyer will be in touch."
"Why? We ain't done nothing!" the driver said.
"Oh no, not you two!" Germany said with dismay.
England smiled.
It was Denmark and Prussia.
"You told me to get out and get a job," Prussia told his brother.
"Yes I did, didn't I…" Germany admitted as the taxi screeched down the road. "I was just hoping that you'd be hundreds of miles away from me."
England waved happily after them, cringing at the fading bars of 'Is this the way to Amarillo', then side-stepped the Mercedes and went into his house.
Unfortunately, Russia followed him.
"Oh dear… cup of tea?"
"With vodka," Russia replied.
"I don't think I have any."
Russia looked horrified, "No vodka? What kind of country is this?"
"I don't buy vodka."
"That is your problem, England. That is the root of all your problems."
"Well that's just…" England indicated the door, hoping Russia would leave this 'vodka-less' house.
But Russia plonked himself down, pulled out a vodka bottle from the depths of his long beige coat and set it on the table.
"…Wonderful," England finished, with a sinking heart.
He switched on the kettle.
Russia poured himself a vodka into the 'I heart Blackpool' mug, "You know England, if you drank vodka, all these problems would just disappear."
"Really? I very much doubt that vodka would solve the problem of France."
Russia was pulling a scrap of paper out of his paper. "You will no longer be able to live with France soon."
"I'm not living with France! I mean I am but I'm not…" England protested as he watched Russia disgorge from his pockets various items onto his kitchen table:
A large unripe cheese.
A head from an Action Man (England suspected it was America's and that Alfred would be searching for it).
A comb with all the teeth missing.
A grenade that Russia assured England was 'safe' as he got it from Romano.
A well-thumbed Doestovsky novel.
And lastly, knitting needles with what appeared to be dried blood on them.
England flinched at the last item.
"Do you have a pen, England?"
"Of course, I was just about to finish the Times crossword before you came."
"Funny, it looked to me as if you were throwing desks onto Germany's car before I came."
"Desk. One desk!" England spluttered as if it mattered that it was in the singular. "And we didn't plan it."
"No of course not. If you had, you would have thrown this table onto it instead. I would have." Russia spoke with the authority of someone who regularly threw furniture out of windows onto luxury German vehicles.
"We didn't…" England paused and then realised what Russia had said, "Wait… what's wrong with this table?"
"I wouldn't use this as a barricade against a German invasion," Russia told him.
"Neither would I."
"Right… Business," Russia said. "You need to sign this, England, while I use your bathroom. Where is it?"
"Upstairs."
"Is it? I like English homes. They are so warm," Russia was saying as he stomped upstairs. Pausing at the broken window, "But you don't need air con here."
"It's where the desk fell out," England called up.
"I know that," Russia muttered. "I am being funny. I can be funny. It's not just Polska and the others who can tell jokes."
England was looking at the piece of paper with growing horror. It appeared to be some kind of contract. He recognised his name and possibly Belarus' name - Natalia Arlovskaya. He blushed when he realised he didn't know her full name was that. If he had, he wouldn't be able to pronounce it anyway. Beyond that, he had no idea. It was written in Russian. Or Belorussian. Or both.
England took out his phone and after a lot of 'fiddling around', managed to bring up his contact list.
Who could help him and hopefully not laugh at him? He discounted most of the Nations. Who could translate Russian but was sensible? That eliminated most of them. That left only two possible Nations.
He hit the first one on the alphabetized list. "Hello? Estonia?"
"Yes? Mr Austria?"
"I'm not Mr Austria!"
"But you're speaking from his phone."
"Listen, I don't have time for this. I need your help."
"Oh? Who is this?"
"England… and I really need your help."
A drop of water fell on England's head. Thinking it was sweat, he wiped it away.
"It will cost you," Estonia replied.
"Really? Oh I just need you to translate some Russian…"
Silence. Another drop of water fell on England's head. He ignored it.
"£50 an hour."
"You're joking."
"Go to Poland then, bye."
England considered ringing Lithuania instead but didn't really have the time to circumvent Poland if Lithuania was with him. "No… wait…"
"Go on."
"If you can translate this…" here England wiped another splodge of water from his head and squinted, reading out haltingly and painfully the Russian in front of him.
"What does it mean?" England said finally.
"Contract of marriage between Natalya Arlovskaya and Arthur Kirkland," Russia said, appearing beside him.
"Aaargh!" England screamed.
"Is the boss there?" a tremulous voice asked over the phone.
England nodded and then said, "Yes."
The line went dead.
Russia grinned at England. "Were you talking to one of my little Baltics?"
England nodded. Russia was leaning over him, a piece of bathroom plumbing dangerous waving around.
England looked up as yet another drop of water dripped on his head and then realised where the water was coming from.
"My bathroom! That's my bathroom pipe."
"It is now Mr Pipe."
"What?"
"I lost my other Mr Pipe," Russia explained.
"Well why don't you bloody go and find it?"
"I know where it is. It is in someone's head."
England gulped and then went very quiet.
"You need a plumber, England."
"Well I bloody do now, don't I?"
Russia nodded, "And a glazier."
England sighed and tried to dial a number but instead his phone rang.
"Hello?" he asked.
A voice began shouting at him in German.
"Listen, Germany…"
"Nyet, it is not Germany," Russia said.
"This is not Austria's phone, I've already told you," England said, ignoring Russia's advice.
The voice on the other end of the phone switched to English, "Oh so you think it's funny to talk in English do you? I'm telling you to stay away from my borders!" the phone then went dead.
"Well!" England said. "I haven't been anywhere near anybody's borders."
"Switzerland is a very angry individual," Russia said with relish.
"Do you have any idea how to block these imbeciles, Russia?" England handed his phone to Russia.
Russia crushed the phone in one hand and gave it back. "There."
England eyed the crunched phone with regret and picked up his landline instead.
"I didn't know you had children, England," Russia said as he watched England put a bucket under the drip.
"What?" England asked as he dialled.
"A little boy? Who likes Superman and strange French porn?"
"That is not my son! That's America's room!"
"My son, Siberia, is a very good boy. He would not dream of decorating his bedroom like that."
England frowned. When he'd met Siberia, he'd thought the 'boy' was a complete psychopath. "I've just told you, it's America's room."
"America is your son?"
"No!"
"You are a very angry individual, England."
England took a few deep breaths, "Hello?"
"Who are you ringing, England?" Russia asked with interest.
"My insurance company…" he whispered in answer to Russia. "Hello? Yes, I need to put in a claim for a flood and a broken window and if you could send around an emergency plumber and a glazer that would be brilliant, thank you." England paused and listened. "Why? Well, it's because…"
"… He threw an antique desk through the window and I lost my Mr Pipe and needed a replacement," Russia said down the phone.
"Shut up!" England hissed.
Russia growled.
"No, not you, I mean…" England said quickly, both into the telephone and to the Russian.
Russia took the phone off him, "Privet? Da… da… da…" he then hung up.
"What did they say?"
Russia shrugged, "I do not know, England. But it was something to do with insurance fraud."
"Damn."
"I can fix the bathroom for you. I took a plumbing course," Russia told him.
"Stopcock!" England said suddenly.
Russia loomed over him, "Wut?" he growled.
"I mean er… we need to find the stopcock to turn off the water."
But Russia had already bounded up the stairs. "I took a plumbing course in my spare century!"
"Damned Russkie," England said, pulling out all the contents from under his sink, trying to locate the elusive tap.
A warning stain was creeping across the ceiling.
There was banging of metal on metal from the bathroom above. Another gush of water came down, along with the ceiling. England was half-drowned and his cup of tea was ruined.
"Bloody hell…" England hurriedly turned off the water and looked up to see Russia looking back down at him through the hole in the ceiling/floor.
Russia gave him the thumbs-up. England did not return the gesture.
"See! I did it!" Russia said.
"Hmmm…"
Russia stomped back downstairs, "You can still sign this, England," he said, handing him the sodden marriage contract.
"This is not legal," England said, dripping wet.
"You are right. I did not use copper piping and I don't think that duct tape will hold."
"No I mean this contract."
"Yes it is."
"I need to ring my lawyer."
"You have a lawyer?"
England thought about this. He actually did not. He took out his phone, which bizarrely could still work even though it was a scrunched up mess and had a broken screen.
"Hello Estonia?" England ventured. Estonia was the only Nation he knew who was a trained lawyer and fairly sensible. Spain was also a trained lawyer (he'd qualified in his 'spare century') but he was neither sensible nor likely to help England.
"Yes?"
Russia snatched the phone from him, "Estonia! I miss you and your brothers! I have been having problems with my washing machine."
"Sir, if you put a red sock in with your whites then everything will turn pink, we've told you." Estonia sounded desperate.
"No! It was not a red sock. Mr Pipe needed a wash."
England could hear Estonia banging his head on his desk.
"I need your help with this marriage contract, Estonia," England began.
"No, he doesn't," Russia added into the phone.
"Is this to do with your date with Miss Liechtenstein? Mr Switzerland ordered you to marry her?" Estonia asked.
"No," England said.
"Not Miss Hungary?"
"No."
"Oh my God! How many women have you dated, Mr England?" Estonia asked.
"He is a lady's man, Estonia. But when he marries my sestra he will behave himself or he will be going in my washing machine with Mr Pipe," Russia interrupted.
"Your sestra? Miss Ukraine?" Estonia sounded worried.
"Nyet! Belarus of course!"
"Phew!" Estonia sounded relieved.
"Wut?"
"Oh dear, I'm going into a tunnel," Estonia said and the phone went dead.
"You know, there are a lot of tunnels in Estonia," Russia told England.
England had no answer to this.
"Right, you can sign this and I will leave," Russia said.
England pulled out a yellow pages and began thumbing through looking for 'plumber' and 'glazer'. "I'm not marrying your sister," he said resolutely.
Russia hummed, "I can make things very bad for you, Mr England…"
"You mean like destroying my bathroom?"
"I fixed it!"
"I found the stopcock."
"Yes, you would need a stopcock if you have France living with you!"
"I've told you, he's not living with me!"
The phone rang, Russia snatched it up, "Privet, this is England and France's house!" he answered. He sounded delighted.
He then hung up. "That was France. He says not to wait up."
"He's not bloody living with me!" England yelled and then very quickly went quiet as Russia stuck the piece of bathroom plumbing, his bathroom plumbing, under his nose.
"Wut?" Russia whispered.
"I mean er… let's take a look at that marriage contract…"
And so after formally announcing that they were now 'brothers-in-law' and 'family', Russia had cleared England out of all the alcohol in his house, watched 'Coronation Street' (which he thought was a documentary), broken America's Darth Vader mask and finally passed out on England's lap.
And so the next morning found England too tired, distraught, afraid and traumatised to move.
England's salvation came from an unexpected source.
"Bonjour mon amies! Where iz ze gorgeous Allemagne? Has he left already? I really wanted to see him. He is so very big and strong!" France yelled as he came in. His face was covered in lipstick, he was trailing several balloons and streamers and his trousers were partially undone. "You missed a wonderful party, Angleterre and…" here France halted as England put a finger to his lips and pointed at the sleeping Russian.
"Ah! Eet eez so wonderful! Gorgeous! I must take a picture!" France all but gasped and pulled out a mobile phone (from where, England did not want to know).
At this, Russia woke up. Saw France standing over him looking devilishly perverted, jumped up and, with remarkable speed for someone so big, ran out of the door. He almost left a large cartoon-ish Russia outline as he did so.
"Ah… so I missed a party here as well…" France said.
England didn't know whether to hit him or hug him.