From the frying pan into the fire

When I arrived in the North Sandwich Island, I planned to spend my first night sleeping on the beach. I thought it would be a safe place to stay before I’d meet the mysterious Mr. Falkenberg, who had promised to offer me a decent job the day after.

I walked for a while until I made out the lighthouse lamp throwing beams of bright light out to the sea. I spread my sleeping bag out on the sand and was about to lay down when a group of hobos surrounded me, giving me a very threatening and unfriendly look.

The oldest one among them, who appeared to be their leader, got into a flap and took a step forward to shout at me:

- Get out of here, Missy! This is not your territory! If you want to sleep on the beach, you’ll have to pay. –he said-
- Excuse me sir, but I think I haven’t got it right. Is this place all yours? –I asked-
- Yep.
- Very nice. And I presume that you mark your territory like the lions, by peeing on the boundaries, right?
- Don’t get cocky, Missy. I ain’t joking, so you better pay the toll or there will be consequences. This is not a rule of the road, but the law of the jungle.

Things were not looking good. One of the hobos unzipped my backpack and took my wallet.

- Keep your hands off my things! –I shouted in anger, pushing him -
- Hm… you don’t have much money here… Nicolette –he said, scrutinizing my fake ID card-
- Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not rich, Mr. Robin Hood.
- Very well observed Missy, but we don’t steal money from the rich to give it to the poor. When it comes to money, we don’t play nice over here.
- Thank you for this valuable piece of information, Mr. Whatever-the-fuck-your-name-is. I’ll find myself a better place to sleep near the lighthouse.
- The coastline is all ours.
- That’s bloody great, man. And I suppose all the woods in the country and the park benches in the city are yours as well, right?
- Right.
- Then, could I have at least my wallet back? Take the money if you want, but I need my papers –I asked, angrily-

The greedy hobo took all the money from my purse, rummaged through my documents and stared at my fake driving license. He was annoying me big time with his funny ideas about private property.

Suddenly an angry woman appeared from out of the blue, threateningly shaking a rolling pin over her head.

- Give her the wallet back, Phantom. -she spat out in a low tone of voice, now firmly holding the rolling pin with her right hand and tapping it against her left-
- Phantom??? My god, is that your stage name? –I said, nearly splitting my sides laughing-

Were there bandits and robber gangs in the North Sandwichian beaches, like Dick Turpin, Jesse James and Billy the Kid? In the past I often had romantic fantasies about outlaws and good thieves. But things look a little different when you’re the one who’s being robbed: it’s not ok to steal, even if you’re desperate, and Phantom didn’t look desperate at all, but rather more a cheeky swine. He stepped back and threw my wallet on the sand, in a rage.

- Are you making your nightly rounds, madam? -he asked the lady with the rolling pin-
- Yes. And I didn’t expect to find you here. If my memory serves me well, I’ve told you a zillion times that my husband doesn’t want to see you scaring people near the lighthouse. –said the lady-

I took my wallet from the ground. Phantom booed her loud, turned around and left. The hobos followed him to the rocks, where they warmed their hands on a trash fire that was burning in a barrel.

- Thank you very much for your help, madam. –I said, relieved-
- It is very ill-advised to hang around here in the dark, sweety. You should be more careful in the future.
- I will.

After a short silence, I dared ask.

- Excuse me, madam… do you live in the lighthouse?
- Yes. What’s with the lighthouse, dear?–she answered-
- I need to see a person there tomorrow, about a job.
- It must be my husband! We’re the only people who live there.
- You must be Mrs. Falkenberg, then! My name is Nicolette Bixby. I’ve met your husband at the ferry.

We shook hands.

- My husband has some interests in the ferry to South Sandwich. They need more staff in the ships; that’s probably the offer he wanted to discuss with you. But let’s go home, Nicolette. This place is not safe.

We walked to the other side of the beach.

The North Sandwich lighthouse had been erected on mile marker 18 of the coast, at Lancaster Bay. Lancaster was the name of a ship that had sunk ten miles away from the shoreline, giving its name to the bay. The locals kept the anchor on a hill, in memory of the seamen that died in the shipwreck.

I was surprised to see that the beautiful Northern lighthouse had not been converted into a bed and breakfast with magnificent sea views, as it happened in the past with the picturesque lighthouses of the Death Coast, in the South Sandwich Islands.

The Falkenbergs lived in a cosy and welcoming cottage beside the lighthouse, with a well looked after garden brimming with all kinds of flowers. Mrs. Falkenberg prepared a cup of tea and cookies and we sat beside the fireplace.

- My husband and I have been the lighthouse keepers for more than two hundred years now.
- For more than two hundred years??? –I asked in shock-
- Yes –she answered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world-. We come from a very long-lived family.

Oh man. Weren’t there any normal people left in these Islands? Had the life expectancy index hit world record levels in North Sandwich? Were the Falkenbergs really so long-lived people, as she said, or perhaps were they supernaturals? I didn’t dare ask.

- Please, tell me about you, Nicolette. –said Mrs. Falkenberg-
- Nothing’s interesting about me, madam. I come from South Sandwich and I’m looking for a job.
- I already know that, sweety. But I can see sorrow and despair in your eyes.

At that point, I broke down and cried my heart out.

- I’ve lost everything a few weeks ago. I had a man who loved me, a good job, a nice house, a car… and everything went up in smoke! Now I have to hide from those who are stalking me! –I said, looking down with tears in my eyes-

She interrupted me.

- Who’s stalking you?
- If I told you who’s stalking me, you would think I’m completely nuts.
- People from Hell, to be sure –said Mr. Falkenberg, who had just opened the main door to the house-.

He kissed his wife tenderly on the forehead and she smiled at him.

- Welcome, Nicolette. I didn’t expect to see you before tomorrow at 8 am. –he said-.
- Nicolette was being disturbed by Phantom and his gang at the beach. –said Mrs. Falkenberg-
- And your lovely wife came to my aid. –I ended the sentence-
- So we can skip the introductions… -he said-
- Nicolette was telling me about some people who are stalking her.
- The people from Hell. Am I right? –asked Mr. Falkenberg-
- Yes.
- They never cross the sea, but they could send someone to abduct you and take you back to South Sandwich.
- I don’t want to go back.

Falkenberg removed his raincoat, poured himself a cup of tea and sat beside us.

- Nicolette, how would you like to work for the North Sandwich Ferry Company as a kitchen hand, assisting with meal preparation and plating in the ferry? The salary is nothing to shout about, but the kitchen manager is a nice guy who won’t work you to death. How does it grab you?

Compared to my two-day escort job in South Sandwich, it sounded like heaven to me.

- I accept it. –I answered immediately-
- Then you’re hired. You’ll start tomorrow at 8am in the cruise ship called “Ice flower”. Look for Diederick Pannekoek, the kitchen manager and tell him that I’ve sent you. There’s a very important event tomorrow at the ship: numerous celebrities and important figures will be in attendance of a famous Burdish publishing house awards ceremony and cocktail party at the auditorium. Diederick is short of people in the kitchen; it will be an extremely busy day and you may have to do a little bit of everything: from preparing hors d’oeuvre to serving snacks and drinks at the lounge. But you’re nice, well-mannered and a hard worker, I suppose.

Oh my god, did he say "A famous Burdish publishing house"? How famous? And how Burdish? I feared that Ed was among those present and would see me, but I couldn't refuse Falkenberg's offer. I was jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

- Thank you. I really appreciate your offering me this chance. I’m not afraid to work, Mr. Falkenberg. I’ll be in the ship tomorrow at 8 am sharp. You won't be disappointed.

I had no choice but to take the job and go completely unnoticed.

"My lighthouse" (Pulp)

The ferry to the North Sandwich Islands

You can’t possibly buy a one way ticket from the South Sandwich to the North Sandwich Islands. The ferry company only sells round trip tickets, as if they wouldn’t want the visitors to stay for very long. They're probably right. As the saying goes, visitors and fish stink in three days.

In all honesty, I was not in the least worried about it. Actually, I had no intention to go back to South Sandwich, but I had to buy the two-way ticket, just like the rest of the passengers did.

The cars were queuing to enter the ship at the harbour. The ferry company staff organised the car boarding in amazingly absolute order: long rows of cars drove inside the ship in perfect harmony.

When the doors were locked behind the last car, the engines started roaring and the ferry left the harbour followed by a flock of seagulls. The passengers fed them with pieces of bread that the seagulls would catch in the air. A large group of ducks swam on the wharf water, picked the leftovers that fell into the water and ate them.

I watched the South Sandwichian coast get farther and the buildings become smaller. My sadness grew deeper by the minute.

We would be sailing on the cold waters of the Strait of Sandwich for a couple of hours until we would arrive in Noordvyken, the capital city of the North Sandwich Islands.

Traditionally, North and South Sandwich have always been irreconcilable rivals. The Sandwichian chronicles are full of collective memories and jealousies, crimes and battles and other sad vicissitudes throughout their history.

In the beginning, there was no division between North and South. There was an only Kingdom: the Kingdom of Sandwich. The problems began two centuries ago when the lovely daughter of the King of Sandwich and one of the Lords of the Kingdom fell madly in love.

The ambitious King of Sandwich didn’t approve of that marriage –he had thought of a prince from a wealthy kingdom to marry the princess, thus ensuring a strong political alliance-. In fact, diplomatic talks had just started for that purpose. But one night, the Lord escaped with the princess and they took shelter in his castle, bordering the river and facing the northern mountains.

The incident started a war that the King of Sandwich lost and resulted in the division of the country in two parts: the North Sandwich islands –where those in favour of the Lord and princess lived- and the South Sandwich islands –where the rest of the citizens lived.

Back to 2009, the last thing I heard about this silly rivalry was that the travellers from both parts needed a passport and a special visa. Thank god Rufus Villain had arranged a new identity for me: my papers were in order.

I went up on the deck, sat on a bench and thought. Nobody waited for me at the other side and I had neither a plan A nor a plan B. I was scared and lonely.

Did I say ‘lonely’?

- Hello loser. –said a familiar voice behind me-.
- Hello Hellgirl. –I said, without even turning my head-.
- Fuck, Leni! I gave you the chance of your life to get a good job and the next thing I know is you nearly kill your first client and then you defame my good friend Demonious High!
- Hellgirl, about Leonard: he alone nearly killed himself with an overdose of Viagra that he took to shag me until I’d get sore, in his own words. I only gave him two sleeping pills to calm his instinct down. And about Demonious… he was going to blackmail Leonard with pictures I was supposed to take of Leonard and me having sex.
- So what? What’s wrong with that?
- I don’t approve of these methods to make money. Blackmail is a crime and they send you to jail. Didn’t you know that?
- Yes I knew, Miss Puritan.
- No I’m not! And now will you please let me go? I’m hiding, you know? I’m unemployed, poor, lonely and I just want to disappear!
- I’m leaving this time, Leni. I have some unexpected business to attend to in Hell. The coal haulage contractors are on strike and if I don’t solve this, all the devils will be freezing this winter. But don’t ever dream of getting rid of me just like this. I’ll be watching you. –she said, pointing at me with a threatening finger-

Hellgirl disappeared in a cloud of fire and I stood on my own at the deck. It was my fate to be stalked by the hell’s minions, and my only fault for having trusted them in the past. These star appearances and rants were a cross I often had to bear.

A soft drizzle started falling. I was lost in my thoughts when a man sat beside me and opened his umbrella over me.

- It’s… raining. –he said-
- Yeah. Thank you for the umbrella. I was actually… about to go inside the ship.
- Oh. I thought you liked the rain. I like it. My name is Falkenburg. –he said, holding out his hand to me-
- My name is… -I hesitated- Nicolette Bixby.

I almost screwed up saying “Leni Qinan”.

- Pleased to meet you, Nicolette.
- Pleased to meet you, Mr. Falkenberg.

Falkenberg... that name rang a bell. Where had I heard it before? Wasn't it the Flying Dutchman's captain? You know, the ghost ship with a ghostly crew that was cursed to sail the oceans forever...

We shook hands and continued the conversation.

- Do you live in North Sandwich? – I asked-
- Yes. ¿And you?
- Oh no, I’m just looking for a job there.
- What would you like to do, Nicolette?
- I would accept anything, as long as the boss doesn’t try to swindle me and I don’t have to do a loathing work.

He looked at me very surprised.

- Then, see me at the lighthouse tomorrow at 8am and I may offer you a decent job.
- Well… thanks for the offer, sir. I surely will.

Falkenberg got up and took something from his pocket. It seemed an origami bird that started unfolding its wings and then grew bigger… and bigger… until it became a big white Pegasus.

Falkenberg whistled and jumped on the magnificent animal that took off in the air, making no sound at all. Silent as a shadow, he waved goodbye from his swift steed as he ascended in the air, defying gravity. My eyes followed him until he disappeared in the night. This guy really knew how to leave in style.

Nobody but me witnessed such a spectacular farewell. I was all alone at the deck.

When the ferry arrived in the Noordvyken harbour, I took my backpack and went downstairs to solid ground.

I had no place to go. I took my backpack and sleeping bag and headed to the beach, where I would try to find my way to the lighthouse.





"The loneliest guy" (David Bowie)

Meet Nicolette Bixby, my alter ego

Do you really think one can get rid of the supernatural gang just like that? If you do, you must be joking.

Supernaturals get infatuated very easily with humans and their nicest personal features, start considering they’re irresistible playthings and fiddle about with them to end up creating all kinds of havoc or even becoming a real pain in the neck.

I started feeling paranoid about it. I didn’t want them running behind me with a knife just because I had abandoned my escort job. So I carefully planned my disappearance before my photograph was posted on bulletin boards, milk cartons, postcards and websites of South Sandwich along with a phone number to be contacted if a sighting was made.

It was dark when I left the house hurriedly. I had left no trace of my getaway in the flat. The coffee maker was still hot. My cell phone was on the table, next to my laptop. I had deleted all the compromising files and e-mails. My car was in the parking lot and the gas tank was full. Nobody would suspect that I was gone.

I took a few clothes and money and headed to see someone I had met at the Dumbass Industries: Rufus Villain. Needless to say, his name was the butt of all jokes. But he was a great guy.

Rufus Villain once was the official art restorer of the Dumbass Industries’ impressive art collection. He worked on the restoration of a portrait of the old King of Sandwich, the old crystal chandeliers at the Conference Room and the entire Auditorium that dated from the 19th century. He did a brilliant job, but one day Big Cheese got off on the wrong foot, thought he didn’t like it and decided to do without Rufus. After a horrible fight, he simply fired him.

Just like it happened to me when I had been dismissed, Rufus couldn’t find himself a new job: Big Cheese managed to ruin his reputation in the artistic circles and Rufus lost all his clients immediately. He tried to resist, but ended up closing his once-prosper art business and disappearing off the face of the earth.

A few months later, I accidentally came across him in the streets of Grytviken. He looked old, tired and very embarrassed when I asked him how he was doing. He gave me a vague answer and invited me to visit his new office in the old part of town. I accepted his invitation.

Apparently, Rufus was running a printing business that didn’t seem to pay much. I came to that conclusion when I saw the gloomy premises where his equipment and machinery were installed. There were cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and dust all over the room. He was very proud of it; but in all honesty, I couldn’t see why. I thought he probably had a sentimental reason for that.

But Rufus wasn’t really in the printing business. That was just a cover for his real occupation, because he did something completely different for a living. Something more exciting and really well paid: he was the best forger in Sandwich.

He could copy everything you’d ask for: artworks, money, id cards… and he would never be caught. He was a true artisan, in the style of the medieval copist monks.

For the moment, he produced and sold false identification documents for foreign workers in Orsinia and the Sandwich Islands. It was illegal, but I promised to keep the secret.

On my way to see him, I got the blues. I had failed at life. I could neither keep my job, nor face my financial obligations. I feared I would soon be stalked by a mob of howling supernaturals. Not to mention that I had screwed up my chances of a life with Ed, whom I dearly loved and missed badly.

But I couldn’t sit and cry out day after day. It was time for change: I needed a new identity, a new past and a brighter future. And Rufus could help me. I knocked at the door to his office and waited.

- Leni… what a nice surprise! Come in, please. What brings you here? –he smiled-
- Excuse me for breaking like this into your office, but I need your help, Rufus.

I told him my desperate story, omitting to mention my deals with the hell’s minions, which were beside the point.

- I'm hopeless –I said-
- I will help you, Leni.
- Tell me what your fees are and I will pay you in advance.
- Oh no. I’m not going to charge you.
- Come on, Rufus. It’s your work and your time.
- You were always very nice when I worked for the Dumbass Industries and I could never thank you for that, so let me just do this for you and for the good old times.

His watery eyes smiled at me. That touched my heart.

He took me to the back room and pulled a drawer from one of the filing cabinets. Three small green frogs jumped off it to land on a wooden table where the letters of the alphabet were carved.

- Come sit beside me, Leni. Allow my three little friends to find you a new name.

The started jumping on the letters. Rufus put his reading glasses on and noted down each one of them on a sheet of paper. When the frogs stopped jumping, he said:

- Alright. Your new name will be Nicolette Bixby. How do you like it, Leni?
- It sounds nice to me.

Rufus snapped his fingers and the three frogs jumped back to the drawer. Then, he opened one of his huge filing cabinets filled with bundles of papers, tied with red and blue ribbons, and took a small folder with the name ‘Nicolette Bixby’ written on it.

- Leni, here’s all you need to start your new life. New passport, id card and Social Security number. The rest is up to you. What are your plans for the future? –he asked-
-I’m leaving on a ferry to the North Sandwich Islands and I’ll look for a job there. I don’t mind accepting a revolting job; I could be a fart and sweat analyst, a pet embalmer or even a horse breeding facilitator. I just want to leave my past behind and start a new life there in anonimity.
- How sad, Leni. You were always merry and bright and now I see the blues in your pretty brown eyes. Your secret is safe with me.
- I appreciate that. I’ll come out ahead, Rufus.

I took my new documents, hugged him in gratefulness and rushed to the ferry station.

Outside, my old name was gone. But not my old me.



"She's leaving home" (The Beatles)