Christobel

Christobel Part 4

Here is chapter four of Christobel, wherein the (other) titular Chris moves to Germany to work and live with his German girlfriend Frieda. Chris is blissfully happy; he feels he's made the right move. He meets Frieda's parents again and settles into his new job in nursing well. But he isn't to know that dark clouds are gathering . . .

Thank you very much for staying with me. I hope you're enjoying the read. I know it's fairly slow-burn so far (I'm trying to pace it) but it will gradually quicken and become increasingly dramatic, with cliff-hangers sprinkled here and there. I'll be posting parts (there will be about 25) at five-day intervals from now on. Sorry they can't be any more frequent, but the book is still less than 50% written. I promise not to do the dirty trick of stopping two or three chapters short of the end and compelling you to buy the book to see the denouement!

Thanks again.

Kind regards, John

Chapter 4

Chris gazed out of the open apartment window. Being on the third floor, if he stuck his head out it gave him a commanding view along Pfeifferstrasse. To the west the sun was still bright in the sky, coruscating through the leaves of the pavement trees on this August evening. The street was quiet, but then suburbia was pretty much the same in any city in Europe, he supposed. In the Protestant north of the continent, anyway. Not a lot happened. People just lived their pedestrian evening and weekend lives away from the buzz and gravitational pull of the city centre.

But it was still a novel experience for him, all the same. Osnabrück didn't compare for size with London of course, but on the other hand it was far bigger than sleepy Crewkerne, and the Friedrich Schiller Klinikum was far more impressive than Yeovil District General. And it was only one hospital amongst many, he'd found. German patients really were spoiled for choice. He'd been amazed at the plethora of medical facilities. But then this was the richest country in Europe, after all. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising.

It had been his first day at the hospital, the first somewhat nervous dipping of toes in employment in a different land, a different culture (for all the similarities between Germany and Britain), and certainly a different medical system. The thing that had most worried him of course was the language. Would he be able to get by, understand what the patients said, the vast majority of whom, quite reasonably, unlike the friendly medical staff, particularly the doctors, spoke only German? And even if some of them did have some English, they could hardly be expected to speak it for his benefit.

He had been on an unofficial home-tutored (except that the tutor was miles away in Germany, unfortunately) crash language learning course with Frieda over the past six months. So with books, videos and her face on frequent Skype, increasingly, and with increasing proficiency on his part, they had quite soon been able to conduct entire conversations in German. He was still nowhere near as fluent as she was in English, but he had gained a reasonable command of the language.

It was one thing though to practise with infinitely-patient Frieda, who could prompt if necessary or stop him to correct pronunciation or grammar, but quite a different matter to be thrown to the lions and have to face German speakers in real life, alone and unsupported.

He need not have worried though. Day one hadn't gone too badly at all. The hospital was modern, sleek, all stainless steel and glass and calm-inducing pastel colours. He'd been assigned to a mixed, general medical ward, similar to what he'd been used to, although he'd been surprised by the high staffing level and general air of unhurried efficiency.

They'd very kindly given him a mentor in the comforting chubby shape of friendly, motherly Helga, a nurse who spoke English as fluently as Frieda and could show him the ropes in practical job terms, and could translate his stumbling German if patients gazed blankly, not understanding. He had followed her around gratefully, like a dependant puppy, obeying her instructions, finding that much of the practise was similar to what he was used to, steadily gaining confidence as the day unfolded. And he'd got on surprisingly well, with no serious or embarrassing communication problems. Helga had kindly complimented him on his performance at the end of the shift, anyway.