AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Now, my friends and dear readers, we come to what is the actual start of the story of the Goyle/Krum family, who reside at Linden Gardens in Notting Hill, in the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, in London, England, in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Consider the first four chapters of this book a Prologue.
This book runs more or less concurrently with Enticements & Obstructions by OhJasperMyJasper, and picks up after chapter 13. Events depicted herein are tied into the lives of the central characters from my other book Culture Shock, that take place after chapter 24. If you have not read those, some of what you read here might leave you a bit lost.
Some of what is yet to be published in Enticements & Obstructionstakes place before the events in this chapter, but they are not tied together.
Some of these are characters given birth by my beyond brilliant twin little sister way back in Errors and Omissions. They spoke to me so much that I appropriated them.
Giant thanks to Lady Kate for her ongoing and invaluable Brit lessons. I would be stabbing in the dark sometimes without her. And as ever, giant hugs to Maureen and Rebecca.
Anyone who has not read the incredible Equal & Opposite, or is not now reading the brilliance that is Errors & Omissions, or Enticements & Obstructions, all by OhJasperMyJasper, should go do so right now. Links to all are in my profile.
WARNING:
This story is intended for an adult audience! There is crude speech, hate speech and adult sexual subject matter of a homosexual nature. If you are under 18 stop reading now!
AU/AH/OC/Non Magical
All characters from Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling. I just take them out and play with them.
There are actual Arsenal football club players as characters in this book. Real People. Much as I would like to, I do not know them. I do not know anything about them. Their personalities and sexual orientations, as depicted herein, are entirely fictional.
All characters from Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just play with them too.
Chapter 5: Linden Gardens, Notting Hill
The air was not yet warmed by the sun when they emerged from their home on Linden Gardens in Notting Hill, though it was not cool. They had risen with the sun, bathed and taken their breakfast together. Now, an hour later, at seven, they set out. Gregory Goyle pulled a large suitcase that rolled along behind him. A good sized carry on bag was slung over his shoulder. He wore a pale blue button down shirt and snug jeans. His five year old daughter was full of energy this morning and it brought a smile to his face as she hopped and skipped down the sidewalk ahead of him. Helena Goyle-Krum wore her favorite backpack, stuffed full of the things she simply could not live without on his trip, strapped to her as she scampered along and sang to herself. She was very excited. Helena loved her grandmother and aunt and uncles and wished she could see them more often. But more than that, she had missed her other parent immensely, and today the family would be reunited. Greg missed his better half, for his own reasons, and found that after nearly four weeks his very soul craved and cried out for the feel of his partner's arms.
They cut through the mews to the main road and then down the half block to the Notting Hill Gate Tube station. Helena had her own Oyster card which she very carefully kept track of in the little purse that was also strapped to her body. She reached up to touch it to the yellow sensor, waited for the green light and proceeded through the gate. Both her parents were very proud of how responsible she was and told her so frequently. Greg followed his daughter through and they headed for the escalators.
"Did you put your Oyster away, Lene?" Greg asked.
"Yes, Daddy," she answered with a sweet smile and patted her purse.
"There's my good grown up girl," Greg ran his hand down the back of her head as they made their way to the northbound platform for the Circle line. Greg took care to have his daughter ever in front of him as they boarded the underground. They found seats easily enough as the carriages were not too terribly crowded.
"How far are we going?" Helena perched on the edge of her seat.
"We are going to Paddington Station. You'll have to let me know when we get there," Greg bid. This was a game Helena's parents never failed to play with her. Figuring out where to go helped to develop her skills of self reliance. The day would inevitably come when she headed off on the Tube alone, but as she was only five, that was a long way off. At this point, they guided her onto the right line and direction, but Greg was sure she would soon graduate to plotting their entire route if they just gave her the destination. Right clever was his little girl and he never tired of telling people so. The Tube stopped at Bayswater and a few people got off while others boarded. Greg and his daughter sat in their seats and the carriages continued on. The next station was their destination, but Greg made no move that would give it away.
"Daddy, this is it!" Helena tugged at his sleeve as their carriages slowed into the station. "Daddy, this is our stop. Get ready!"
"Right, ready," Greg took hold of the suitcase handle and slid up to the edge of his seat. Helena was never satisfied that they were 'ready' to depart the carriage unless they were perched on the edge of their seats and poised to dash. The carriages finally came to a stop and the doors slid open. Helena jumped from her seat and Greg took after her.
"Where to now, Daddy?" Helena scampered ahead.
"Now we go up to the train station to catch the Heathrow Express," Greg instructed. Helena paused to read from her father's body language which was the right direction, and skipped ahead of him as he walked. Once up in Paddington, Greg bought their tickets for the express and they headed for the track where the big train sat waiting for them. With great and sudden drama, the little girl leaned forward and grasped the shoulder straps of her backpack. It had been light as a feather and scarcely noticed until just this moment, when it suddenly weighed several stone.
"Go on," Greg directed. Helena climbed the steps up into the train ahead of her father and, once they found seats, heaved herself into one with a great sigh. Her drama was entirely forgotten before her father even sat down. Greg smiled as he helped his struggling daughter free herself of her Disney Princess backpack.
"You want your Leapster Explorer?" Greg asked as he unzipped the backpack.
"I do," Helena confirmed. "Baby wants to play too," she announced. Greg produced the Leapster learning system and handed it to his daughter, followed by a most realistic looking baby doll.
"Here we are," Greg placed the doll in his daughter's arms. She sat back in the seat and placed the baby beside her, tucked under her arm.
"You want your Tinker Bell game?" Greg fished in the bottom of the bag.
"No, Daddy. We're travelling," Helena gestured like he was a dolt. "Dora."
"Right, of course," Greg found the correct cartridge and inserted it into the Leapster for her. "There you are then."
"Thank you, Daddy," Helena was polite.
"You are very welcome, my girl," Greg sat back in his seat and relaxed. "Are you hungry?"
"No," Helena shook her head, but did not take her eyes off her game. Greg watched out the window while his daughter, and her doll, contentedly played their learning game. Soon the train gave a heave and began to pull out of the station. They continued to accelerate until they fairly flew out of London at high speed. Indeed this train took only fifteen minutes to reach Heathrow from the center of London. It made only two stops, at Central Heathrow Station and Terminal Five. The first was their stop.
"Nearly there. Time to pack up," Greg instructed as the train slowed into Heathrow. Helena made no protest and handed over her Leapster. Greg had her packed up and the backpack strapped back on her by the time the train pulled into the station. Helena made fancy work of leaping the last step from the train onto the platform and turned to await instructions from her father.
"This way, Lene," Greg gestured with his head. Passengers heading to Terminal Four from here would have to catch the shuttle. Terminals One and Three were reached by a rolling walkway in the underground concourse beneath Central Station. While British Airways had all of Terminal Five, only the really large jets going overseas departed from there. Terminal Five was truly the British gateway to the world. With very few exceptions, British Airways flights to Europe departed from Terminal Three. Once off the people mover, they rode the long escalator up to departures and checked in for their flight. Greg was quite happy to be free of the big suitcase. They all but undressed and dismantled for security and then continued on to the gates.
Greg and Helena had a good two hours until their flight and headed for the Galleries lounge. If his trip to the Emirates had taught Greg anything, it was the advantages of flying in club. Club Europe was not quite the same as Club World, but still made all the difference. Greg selected a small table that he could see from the Chef's Theatre.
"Here we are then," Greg helped his little girl out of her backpack again. "Fancy a colouring book?"
"Oh! Do you have a new one?" Helena knew her father well. She had also seen him pack her crayons.
"Of course I do," Greg extracted it from his big carry on bag.
"Let me see! Let me see!" she reached and jumped. Greg handed her the Madagascar coloring book and smiled at her big eyes while he fished in her backpack for her box of crayons.
"Now then," Greg set her crayons on the low table. "I am going to get you a juice and I could certainly do with a good coffee. I want you to stay right here at this table," Greg leaned down and put his hand on her shoulder for emphasis. "All right?"
"I will, Daddy," Helena did not look up.
"I'll be right back," Greg kissed her forehead and headed off. He was reasonably confident that this was a safe environment, but still did not want his child out of his sight. Greg continued to steal glances to check on her as he made himself a cup of coffee and poured her a glass of orange juice. Helena stood at the table and colored diligently away. Several crayons were arrayed around her when he returned and she was so engrossed that he doubted she even noticed he was gone.
"Here you are, Lene," Greg sat the glass of juice near her.
"Thank you," she said sweetly. Greg sat back in his chair with cup and saucer and savored the proper European coffee. Helena was patient and thorough and had three pages nearly done, pausing only occasionally to take a sip of her juice with both hands, by the time they needed to head to their gate.
Helena hopped and skipped down the jetbridge ahead of her father, stopping only when people blocked her way at the hatch of the aircraft. The Airbus A320 seemed tiny to Greg compared to the 747-400 he had last flown when he came home from Dubai only a few weeks ago. The Club Europe section had large seats with only two on each side of the one central aisle and theirs were 8 A and C.
"Here we are. Right in here," Greg directed. Helena walked into their seats and climbed into the one by the window. Greg placed his bag in the overhead compartment, helped her out of her backpack and stashed it under the seat in front of her. "Fasten your seat belt. Do you remember how to do that?" he asked as he sat down in his own seat. Helena pulled the two ends of the belt into her lap and made a face while she struggled to fit them together. Greg smiled as he watched her do it. He could have done it for her, but knew she would want to do it herself. She was most satisfied when they clicked together.
"It's so big!" Helena held up the connected strap. Indeed three of her friends could have fit in it with her.
"Looks like a grown up sat there before you, and a pretty big one at that," Greg adjusted the strap down to fit her snugly. He had promised to send a quick text and pulled out his cell to do so, before he was made to turn it off.
Seated on the plane
On our way!
Can't wait to see you
Miss you so bloody much
We both love you
Greg then turned to look at his daughter who sat in her seat with her legs crossed and one arm up to lean on the wall with her elbow while supporting her head on her hand. For all the world a little diva who deigned to allow all these other people on her plane.
"Oh my God. Hold that pose!" Greg quickly took a picture with his phone. "Let's get one together," he leaned over into her seat and she placed her head beside his with an enormous smile as Greg took another picture. "He'll love these," Greg sent them along.
A few minutes later the lights in the aircraft gave a quick wink as the jet switched over to it's own power. Another moment after that they felt the plane get pushed back from the gate.
"We're on our way, Lene!" Greg reached over to pat her leg.
"I know! I can't wait!" she enthused.
"Are you going to miss Ashok?" Greg asked.
"Daddy, I loveAshok," Helena gushed. "But I miss Daddy more. I can't wait to see him!"
"I know, Lene. Me too, believe me," Greg nodded.
"Daddy, make him promise to never go away again so long," Helena gripped her father's arm tightly. "Make him promise."
"I wish I could," Greg leaned his head back on his seat.
"Of course you can," she rolled her eyes and gestured with one hand like she was talking to a simpleton. "You just have to make him promise. He won't refuse you, Daddy. He can't!"
"He can't?" Greg asked.
"No," Helena shook her head. "Because he loves you. I know he does."
"Well, I love him too," Greg stated. He was glad that his little girl knew her parents loved each other.
Their jet had to queue up for take off, but once they accelerated down the runway Helena clapped her hands. She stretched to see out her window as they climbed into the sky.
Greg ordered a mimosa, once they reached their cruising altitude, but would allow himself only one as he was looking after his child alone. He ordered fruit and cheese for Helena to snack on while she watched the children's programming channel on the in-flight entertainment system. Greg could not help but smile the way she looked in the oversized headset as she listened to the program she watched. She was quiet but for the occasional giggle. Greg laid his head back on the seat and relaxed. He thought of Viktor. He missed his partner so very much. Greg could picture the Bulgarian's sexy smile, and every other inch of him. He just could not wait to feel the stubble of Viktor's slight goatee against his face as they shared a kiss, the first in damn near four weeks. Greg opened his eyes and shook his head as he felt his cock expand in his jeans. He was simply not going to sit beside his daughter on an aircaft with an erection. That would very much not do.
With the worst possible timing, Helena shifted around in her seat and tugged on her father's shirtsleeve. "Daddy, I have to go to the loo," she announced.
"Right, of course you do," Greg pulled the buckle of his seat belt and reached to unfasten hers as well. He stood up in the aisle, giving her room to get out. Helena slid out of her seat, walked into the aisle and headed forward, where she knew the lavatories to be. Greg followed her up to the front of the plane. Helena stopped at the lavatory door and turned to glower up at her father with her hands on her hips.
"What are you doing? I can do it myself," Helena declared.
"And I know that perfectly well," Greg hung his head to give her just as much attitude back. "I have to go too. I'm just queuing up."
"Oh," her indignity vanished. "Wait here then," Helena turned and pushed on the folding door.
"My very intention," Greg stated. "Don't forget to use a seat cover."
"I won't," Helena assured as she pushed the door closed. Only then did Greg allow his smile to appear. Their little girl was more grown up every day. Greg folded his arms across his chest and leaned on the bulkhead. He knew he was in for a wait. Going to the loo was a production for little kids. For little girls anyway. Eventually Helena emerged. She pushed the accordion door aside with a grunt.
"There now. Did we wipe properly and wash our hands?" Greg asked. Helena rolled her eyes and thrust the palm of one hand up at him as she turned and walked away.
"Here, where did you learn to do that?" Greg called after his daughter who paid him no mind. "Go right back to our seats then," he added even as he could see that was what she was doing. Greg waited until she slipped into their row to enter the lavatory himself. He lifted the lid of the toilet and pulled his thickened meat out of his pants. The very act of pulling his foreskin back felt so good in his current state of sexual tension that his dick swelled further in his hand. "Nothing but trouble today, you are," Greg spoke to his cock. "I should wank so you'll behave," he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Greg gave a frustrated sigh. "I am not going to toss off in an airplane loo," he looked down to make sure his aim was proper as he finally began to piss. "And if anyone can hear me, they'll think I'm barking."
Helena sat comfortably in her seat when her father returned to his.
"There. Everything alright then?" Greg asked.
"Daddy, you have to stop asking me that!" Helena brought a fist down on the armrest between them for emphasis.
"I used to have a little girl. Who are you, madame?" Greg teased. "I used to have a little girl who needed and loved me," he stuck out his bottom lip.
"I still need you and love you, Daddy," Helena knelt up on her seat to throw her arms around his neck in a hug.
"I love you too, my girl," Greg closed his eyes as he held his child to him a quick moment. "Let's get you strapped back in now," he instructed and watched her do it.
The Gunners were afforded few opportunities to sleep in during training camp and took full advantage of it when they did. Their rooms were modern and well appointed at the Quellenhotel und Spa in Bad Waltersdorf. Every Gunner shared with another and each room had two double beds. Viktor smiled broadly when he received the text from his family. He could not wait to show Andrey. The Russian and he had lounged in their beds until finally Andrey got up to get in the shower. Viktor set his phone down and thought about his partner. He remembered the day he met Greg at the television studio. Years ago it was now. Arsenal had just bought his contract and he had just begun his first season with the Gunners. The management and team had been impressed and very happy with his solid performance on the pitch. Viktor had proven to be all they had hoped for and more. The Arsenal fans had welcomed him with cheers. Everyone wanted to interview him. Viktor refused at first, embarrassed of his English, but his coaches and the other international players convinced him. So he went to be interviewed by the morning show on BBC One, Breakfast, and there was Greg. Had Viktor been his usual confident self, he might easily have missed him. Greg was of average height and weight, not muscular or built, but he looked to Viktor like a real man, so completely genuine. It was his confidence and ease in the television studio that stood out to Viktor. This was clearly Greg's domain, as much as the football pitch was Viktor's. He was a man unlike any Viktor ever saw in the locker room at Emirates Stadium. He had the warmest smile and the kindest eyes. Viktor had been instantly smitten. He smiled at the memory of how Greg had at first been professionally reserved around him, though hunger had been clear in the Brit's eyes. Hunger that had matched his own. Viktor smiled as he remembered how strong he had come on, telling Greg that he would have a drink with him, not asking. Viktor shook his head. As he thought back about it now, he had really been an ass, but Greg had fortunately responded. When he took Greg out that night, the Brit was still cautious, but Viktor had been especially considerate in an attempt to overcome his aggressive first impression. It had not been easy to convince Greg that he was truly interested in him and to let down his guard. Viktor remembered how much he had flirted that night and how Greg only slowly grew more forward as his comfort level increased. They had agreed that they wanted to see each other again and arranged to do so. It had been the first time someone Viktor showed interest in had ended a date without at least trying to have sex with him. Far from being disappointed or offended, Viktor remembered how he had walked on air that night, knowing that the sweet Brit liked him. The next time they went out, they shared a kiss. The time after that, they shared their bodies. Viktor smiled at the memory of how enraptured Greg had seemed while stripping him of his clothing, when it was really the Gunner who had been most pleasantly surprised and very lucky to find the especially fat post Greg kept hidden in his pants. They could not get enough of each other that night. And that feeling had never changed.
These thoughts had a natural affect on the Gunner's sex deprived body. His cock throbbed, almost painfully hard, and demanded attention. Viktor had not jacked himself off in over a week in anticipation of reuniting with his lover. He kicked the sheet and blanket away until he lay fully exposed and took the matter in hand. He closed his eyes and rubbed his solid chest with his left hand while he took up a very slow stroke with his right. Viktor did not want to make himself come, not now when his mate was only a few hours away. Of course, so was his child and he missed her terribly too, for very different reasons. He realized that they could not very well ask her to turn her head while they made love. Perhaps it would be a good idea to relieve the pressure so that ripping Greg's clothes off of him would not be the only thing on his mind. Of course that wouldn't really be the only thing on his mind, but it would be hard to ignore. Viktor stroked himself faster and gave a soft moan. This felt so good right now, but Greg's mouth would feel better. He heard the shower shut off, but paid it no mind. Viktor didn't care one bit if Andrey saw him doing this. The Russian and he had spanked off together several times during this training camp. Viktor gave a frustrated moan and stopped masturbating. He just held and squeezed his crank. He really did want to save it for Greg. Viktor looked down at himself and he was so charged up that he was leaking profusely already. Precum ran down his head, was caught up in his foreskin, and even ran down his shaft and onto this thumb. A mischievous grin crossed his face as he had what he thought was a brilliant idea. Viktor picked up his phone and took a close up picture of his hard, drooling cock in his hand. The first just as he held it, and the second on an upstroke with his foreskin rolled up over his leaking head such that only the seeping eye was visible in his cowl. These he sent right off to Greg with a most satisfied smile. He was sure Greg was as charged up as he was, and would simultaneously love him and curse him for sending these pics.
The bathroom door opened at that moment and Andrey walked out into the room. He was naked and used his towel to dry his dirty blonde hair.
"Ha!" Andrey caught sight of Viktor. "You think about Greg!"
"I think about those pretty Russian lips. Come here," Viktor teased.
"You wish!" Andrey threw his wet towel at Viktor, who caught it before it landed on his face. Viktor still held his phone in his hand and was struck with another brilliant idea. He waited until Andrey pulled clean underwear from his side of the dresser and bent to pull them on, when he clicked a picture of the Russian's bare ass.
"What that sound?" Andrey turned around with his snug boxers only up to his thighs. He had heard the shutter sound the phone made. He saw the phone in the Bulgarian's hand and the look on his face. "You take picture of me?"
"I send to Greg also. My cock and your ass," Viktor chuckled. "He like your pretty ass."
"You pretty funny guy," Andrey finished pulling his boxers up. "He can like my ass, but he can no have it."
"That okay. He has my ass," Viktor gave a firm nod and set his phone aside.
The two hour and twenty minute flight into the heart of Europe passed uneventfully, apart from their excursion to the bathroom. They had only forty minutes to connect in Vienna and they needed every minute of it. The British Airways gates for their jets were on the very opposite end of the airport from their regional feeder flight on Tyrolean Air to Graz. Greg carried his big bag slung over one shoulder while his daughter wore her backpack and diligently trucked along beside him.
"Daddy, is it much farther?" Helena whined.
"A little ways, Princess," Greg ran a hand down the back of her head.
"My bag is soooheavy!" she wailed.
"I know it is, but you need everything in there, right?" Greg prompted.
"I do!" Helena insisted.
"I know you do," Greg pulled his cell from his pocket and turned it on. He had forgotten to do so when they landed. "Oh, I have a new message. I think it's from Daddy," Greg smiled as he opened the email.
This is how much I miss you
had two photo attachments.
"It is from Daddy? Let me see," Helena jumped to reach for the phone.
"Oh, sorry, my mistake," Greg held his phone to his chest. He swallowed his sudden mouthful of saliva and willed the twitch in his jeans to stop. A few steps further and Greg closed that email only to discover a second one.
Special greetings from Andrey
"Oh for Christ's sake," Greg muttered as he viewed more of the straight Russian player than he ever thought he would.
"What is it?" Helena was very interested and bounced beside her father. The tremendous weight of her little backpack was completely forgotten.
"A frightful mistake," Greg referred to opening the emails while not in private, "but nothing for you to worry about."
When they finally reached the Tyrolean Air gates, there sat the little De Havilland Dash 8 Greg had been dreading.
"Daddy, look at the cute little plane!" Helena enthused. She loved the little turboprops for all the reasons Greg hated them.
"Isn't it just," Greg mustered zero enthusiasm.
"It'll be fun, Daddy. Come on!" she took his hand and pulled him toward the gate. Greg smiled that his little girl, who only minutes before was being crushed under the great and terrible weight of her little pink Princess backpack, suddenly had the energy not only to bear it, but drag an adult man along behind her while she did so. They did not bother to take seats as it was time for the commuter flight to begin boarding. The gate was a flight of steps and a door that led outside onto the tarmac. Helena skipped ahead and waited for her father at the bottom of the stairs that were the inside of the door to the little plane. When it came Greg's turn to climb the five steps, Helena went ahead of him. The overhead compartment on this tiny plane was no bigger than a breadbox. Helena jumped up into the seats that were significantly smaller than the ones they just left, while Greg took up all the room under both seats in front of their 7 D and F with his one bag.
"Strap in," Greg said as he sat down. "Oh, let me help you with that," he pulled her backpack off of her and dropped it on the floor in front of her seat. Helena saw to her own seat belt and Greg tightened it. Soon the door was pulled up and the engines kicked to life.
What Greg did not like about these aircraft was that the wings were mounted above the fuselage, rather than below. The turboprops that were mounted below the wings, were then directly outside the windows. Tiny in comparison to the turbofans on the big jets, these seemed to make twice the noise. And the vibration they generated while the aircraft was still on the ground was nothing short of amazing. Helena loved it and giggled her way across the airport and down the runway. Once they were airborne she wanted her Leapster Explorer and busied herself with learning. This flight was mercifully short and soon they were descending into Graz Thalerhof.
"Look, Lene," Greg pointed. "Look at the mountains. Aren't they beautiful?"
"Oh," Helena pressed her face to the glass. A few minutes more brought them down into the airport with a decided thud and they vibrated their way finally to a stop.
"There. Bloody hell," Greg expressed his relief as he watched the propeller outside their window wind down.
"Whee!" Helena stuck her feet up and leaned on her father's arm. "That was fun, Daddy."
"I'm glad you enjoyed that, Lene," Greg sighed. Helena gasped and pressed her face to the glass again.
"Is Daddy here?" Helena looked about outside as best she could.
"Not quite yet, my girl. We have to get our bag and meet the shuttle that will drive us to Daddy. And remember to call him Tatee," Greg reminded.
"Oh, I will!" Helena enthused. She thrilled to delight him. The door of the small plane dropped down and the people began to shuffle forward.
"Come now, let's get going," Greg put the Leapster back in her backpack and strapped it to her again. He walked ahead and held her hand out of the small hatch and down the door stairs. Once again the little girl took great joy in leaping off the final step. She let go of her father's hand and dashed away.
"Lene, don't get too far ahead, please," Greg called. He was ever so happy to leave the little rattletrap aircraft behind them. It was a good walk from where the plane had parked to the terminal, but right inside the doors was the baggage claim. It took little time for the ground crew to unload the few bags their plane could carry and bring them to the short little belt.
"Here we are. Stand back, Lene," Greg bid. She did so and Greg swung their big suitcase off of the belt and onto the ground. Parked at the curb outside, just where they said it would be, was a twelve passenger Mercedes Benz sprinter van with the name and logo of their hotel on the side. The Austrian woman who waited beside the van in white jeans and hotel uniform polo shirt had short dark hair and shoulders as broad as Viktor's.
"Hello. Gregory Goyle," he introduced.
"Ach. Welcome to Austria, Herr Goyle, und Fraulein Goyle. I am Gretchen. I will take your bags," she greeted. Gretchen pulled Greg's big suitcase around to the open back of the van and lifted it in like it weighed no more than a pound.
"Daddy," Helena grasped Greg's pant leg. "I need the loo again."
"Oh dear," Greg looked around. "Well, it's rather a drive, so we'll have to go now. Gretchen, we need to visit the loo just very quickly," he called.
"Ja, ja, go ahead. We wait for another couple. Take you time," Gretchen smiled.
"Ah, good. We'll just leave these inside," Greg placed his big carry on bag inside the van on the second row of seats and freed his daughter of her backpack. "Come, Lene," he took his daughter's hand and headed back inside the terminal. He did not know the German words for restrooms, but recognized the symbols easily enough. Greg took a deep breath and led his daughter by the hand into the men's room.
"This is the one time we are at a disadvantage," Greg muttered to himself.
"Why, Daddy?" Helena looked up at him as they rounded the corner. Sure enough, there were several men standing at the urinals taking a piss. Greg was not prepared to elaborate for his daughter. He did not want to teach her to be afraid and did not want to tell her that under no circumstances would he allow her out of his sight in a busy airport. Greg turned Helena's head away as they passed the men with their dicks in their hands, and guided her to one of several empty stalls. He was very glad of the meticulous Austrians who kept these facilities so clean. Nevertheless, he plucked a seat cover from the dispenser that was above her reach and handed it to her as she walked inside. Helena closed the stall door and Greg maintained vigil outside of it. A man old enough to be his father said something to him in German with a smile.
"I'm sorry. I don't speak German," Greg apologized.
"Ach. English," he nodded. "I said, I see your wife is not with you. You are to be meeting her."
"Something like that," Greg gave a smile.
"Ja, ja," the older man nodded. "You have a beautiful madchen kleines."
"Thank you," Greg was pretty sure that he had said 'little girl'. "Have a nice day," he called after the departing man. In a few minutes, during which Greg studiously avoided making eye contact with the other men in the restroom, Helena opened the door behind him and Greg turned around.
"All done?" Greg asked. Helena only nodded her little platinum blonde head.
"Right. C'mon then," Greg took her hand and turned her head away for a second time as they once again ran the urinal gauntlet. He could have done with a piss himself, but he was not about to leave her alone while he did it. He would wait until they reached the hotel.
An older couple was just seating themselves in the first passenger row of the van when Greg and Helena returned. They were looking forward to taking the therapeutic waters of the mineral baths for which Bad Waltersdorf was renowned, and were quite taken with the pretty little girl, as most people were. As Gretchen closed up the van and took the wheel, Greg pulled a packet of wipes from his well stocked carry on bag. Helena dutifully held out her hands for him to wipe them.
"Thank you, Daddy," she said when he finished.
"Very welcome, you are," Greg pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head before he put the wipe away. By then they were driving out of the airport. Greg put his arm around his daughter and snuggled her to him. Just as he suspected would happen, within minutes she was out. He was torn. She was missing the beautiful scenery as they drove deeper into the mountains and if she was tired later on it might give him some adult time with the partner he missed so desperately. In the end Greg elected to let her sleep. He reasoned that if she didn't need it, she wouldn't be sleeping.
The A2 Motorway took them further up into the mountains and finally into the lush green valley in which was nestled the tiny town of Bad Waltersdorf. Gretchen got off the motorway at the lone exit, and drove them through the quaint and tiny hamlet. They emerged on the other side and started up the foot hills again to reach the Quellenhotel und Spa, perched as it was with it's commanding view of the town and valley.
"Lene," Greg rubbed her shoulder. "Wake up, my little princess. We're here," he spoke soothingly.
"Are we?" she asked in a tiny voice and rubbed her eyes with her little fists. Helena sat up and looked out the window. "Daddy's here?"
"He sure is," Greg confirmed.
"Where is he?" Helena grew excited as she looked around.
"He'll be on the pitch by now. We'll take our things to our room and then go find him, right?" Greg rubbed her back as the van pulled to a stop at the hotel front entrance. A doorman opened the big van door and a bellman opened the back, even before Gretchen could get out from behind the wheel.
"Willkommen," the young doorman smiled.
"Thank you," Greg said as he emerged ahead of his daughter with his carry on bag over his shoulder.
"Ach. From England. Welcome," he said again in heavily accented English.
"Thank you," Greg repeated as he took Helena's hand. She jumped down, as was her habit, and all but pulled her father into the hotel.
Quellenhotel had a large and airy lobby done entirely in blonde woods. Wild flowers filled a great bowl on a round table in the center of the space. A woman in hotel uniform waited with a smile at the front desk. She greeted them again in German.
"Hello," Greg smiled. "I'm Gregory Goyle," he produced his passport and handed it over. "My partner will have checked us in already. He was to leave a key."
"Ach, yes. Herr Goyle," she looked at his passport to confirm his identity and handed a key packet to the waiting bellman. "Your room is a deluxe garden view double in the north wing. Rolf will show you the way."
"Thank you," Greg nodded and replaced his passport in his bag. "Come along, Lene," he steered his daughter with a hand on the back of her head. "We have to follow this nice young man."
Rolf led them across the hotel to the very furthest point from the lobby. A fact Greg was most glad of, just as soon as Rolf opened their door with the key card. The room, like the rest of the hotel, was furnished with blonde woods, including the floor. Crisp, starkly white linens graced both double beds. A desk and table and chairs sat beyond the beds in front of a sliding glass patio door that gave out onto a private terrace with a view of the grounds and woods beyond. Greg did not have to ask where the friendly match was being played. On the expanse of lawn, down the hill from the hotel, directly in view from their room, the game was underway right in front of them. Helena flew to the glass and pressed herself, hands and face, against it.
"Daddy!" Helena cried. Rolf set their big suitcase on a stand next to Viktor's duffel bags that were already present. Greg dropped his carry on bag on the bed nearest the door and pulled a five Euro note from his wallet, one of a few left over from a previous trip into the heart of the EU.
"Danke, Rolf," Greg traded the young man the five note for his room key.
"Bitte, mein herr," Rolf smiled. "Enjoy your stay," he added in English as he withdrew.
"Daddy, Daddy! Is it Daddy?" Helena jumped up and down as she pointed.
"I'm sure it is, my girl," Greg walked over to join her. "He's out there somewhere," he commented. The game was too far away to make out any faces or numbers on jerseys. "Let's get you out of this and we can go down and see," Greg pulled his only too eager child out of her backpack.
"Let's go!" Helena shouted and banged on the glass with her open palm.
"Just one second, Lene. Do you have to use the loo?" Greg asked.
"No!" she was keen to avoid any delay.
"Well, daddy does. Give me a second," Greg headed for the bathroom. He left the door open a couple of inches while he stepped up to the toilet and pulled himself out of his jeans.
"Daddy, hurry up!" Helena's face appeared in the doorway behind him.
"I'm going as fast as I can," Greg looked over his shoulder even as he started to piss. "You could unpack a little, right? Make baby comfortable on your bed."
"Okay, just hurry up," Helena walked away. Greg could only smile while he finished in the bathroom. When he emerged his child's baby was comfortably reclined, nestled between the pillows on the bed nearest the patio.
"There now. That's nice," Greg reached into his big bag to extract a smaller bag.
"Daddy!" Helena stood before him and stomped her foot. "We have to go!" she gestured toward the patio doors with great drama.
"Yes, I know that," Greg agreed. He opened the big suitcase to get the suits he had packed for himself and Viktor hung up.
"Daddy!" Helena demanded again, even louder this time.
"We're going right now," Greg put the smaller messenger bag strap over his head to carry it across his chest. With a little one in tow, supplies were needed. He bent to open the mini fridge and found his well prepared partner had it stocked with bottles of water, juice, beer and juice boxes. Greg placed one of the juice boxes in his bag while Helena dashed to the patio door and grasped the handle.
"Here, we're not going that way. I don't know if we can lock that door from the outside. We'll go out the proper way," Greg held out his hand.
"Oh!" the child was exasperated by his constant delays and did not hesitate to show it. Helena took her father's hand and walked out into the corridor with him. She had well enough of that after five seconds and let go of his hand to run ahead.