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The Chasm
Chapter 1
By DianneK

 The advertisement in the London Daily Telegraph read:

Two Teachers of liberal studies
Positions available immediately
All expenses paid, including travel arrangements,
permanent 1st class accommodations, w/household help,
generous salary/benefits.
Applicants respond to LDT, Box A204

The successful applicants were lifetime companions. Spinsters of late middle age, they were teachers from the old school, versed in the classics, yet progressive enough to narrowly miss being considered stodgy. They were as upright and steadfast as the British Isles themselves yet they were ready to trade hearth and home for one last adventure, especially if the adventure paid their expenses. This one definitely met the requirements.

The all-paid travel arrangements took them to a small village deep within the Balkans, a village newly freed from the old regime, struggling to gain a foothold in the new political scheme of things. The teachers arrived via the small steam train which had served the village for more years than most residents could remember. The teachers approved this form of transportation, because it reminded them of earlier adventures aboard the Orient Express.

Their village accommodations proved to be more than adequate. They were ushered into the residence of a wealthy and happily absent local landowner and were introduced to household staff ready to assist them in every way. Teachers generally were well respected in this particular village and so the two English women were given every courtesy deemed appropriate of worthy scholars.

Soon the two were running a recreation program for school-age children and adults, which offered classes in card-playing, games and language lessons. Each day the teachers boarded the small but reliable steam train that crossed a trestle bridge to reach their recreation facility. The bridge spanned a narrow, steep chasm that separated two distinctly different villages, thus physically dividing two rival cultural groups.

The teachers tried to ignore the ethnic tension between the two villages, concentrating their efforts on preparing the class schedules, the lesson preparations and instituting plans to increase enrollment in all programs. While they went about their business, tensions increased between the groups, escalating into rather violent hostilities, or so it seemed to the two teachers. Single shots, and rapid gunfire, grenades, mortar rounds rattled the windows, shook the doors and sent clouds of dust spilling onto the play areas. They were frightened but the students paid little attention to the noise and clatter of the incoming rounds. They seemed to know that the firing was not near enough to harm them. At least for the moment.

 Their first school break occurred after only a few month's time. The two retreated to the mansion for a well-deserved holiday, hoping that tensions would soon ease, and also, more importantly to them, that sufficient students enroll next term to insure their job security.

Their mansion was elegant, more gracious than any quarters they'd ever had before: an old sandstone, two-story building with arches and openings around the lower floor that helped keep it cool. French doors opened to verandas and bracing mountain air. The only disconcerting thing they noted was how easy it would be to break in to their lovely retreat. They began to wonder where the owner was, and, more importantly, why he left. But they were not overly concerned. The gardens were lush and unconventional by English standards, a veritable jungle growth of trees and shrubs pretending to enclose and protect the site.

For relaxation they read Agatha Christy on the veranda, they slept late, and they wandered about the grounds. They tried not to think about the muffled thunder they could faintly discern from across the chasm. They laughed at the thought of what their colleagues back home might say upon seeing the two of them ordering around a brace of servants and taking their leisure like the proper gentry. A stranger might even assume they owned the mansion. Well, that wouldn't happen. Nobody would ever think two itinerant teachers could own such a grand place. Never. Not in a million years.

Well, what if the stranger didn't ask anyone, what if he just took it for granted. People assume things all the time, things that are simply not true. What began as a light-hearted conversation, eventually turned serious. What if the hostilities escalated into an all-out war? What if the teachers began a session one day and the bridge was blown up? What if they couldn't get back to the mansion? What then? What if they did get back? Would they be safe? After all they were some distance from help of any kind. What if the warriors overran the other village and captured the bridge. What if they took control of their little village? What if the teachers couldn't explain to them that they are only teachers, not the wealthy mansion owner? After all, they had only been hired to teach the children games and recreation, language classes, simple mathematics, some history. So many what-ifs.

Maybe they should make some contingency arrangements. Should they think about leaving? Pack up at once. Or, perhaps they should wait out the week and see how many enrollments there were. If many new students signed up for their classes, perhaps that would mean the villagers had confidence that things would be all right. Well, yes, that definitely sounded like the sensible thing to do. When in doubt, just carry on. Oh, bully, that's the thing. Perhaps they should catch the train back to their little recreation facility at once and see how the enrollments are going. It was a fine idea. They boarded the train, crossed the chasm and arrived at the center without a mishap. How silly they had been to fear the noise.

Villagers from both sides of the chasm wandered in and out most of the day. Some signed up for the classes. Two for the bridge lessons. Five for the chess classes. Fifteen wanted to take French lessons. Many want to learn cricket rules. There were even a few names on the mathematics sign-up sheet. Things looked very promising indeed. They could transfer the odd bridge students to the chess classes and maybe have enough enrollments for a good-sized class. The French class would be excellent with fifteen students. The team sports all looked good. It was exciting to see the interest in games. Yes, perhaps things were going work out after all.

In the distance the gunfire persisted and the building shook as shells landed. A blackboard crashed to the floor toppling the cabinet with the chess pieces. Pawns scattered about everywhere. As the chalk dust settled around them they looked around and watched the students take flight out the windows and through the streets. It was hopeless. They were simply deceiving themselves. It was time to leave, and quickly. Things were much more dangerous that they realized. They peered outside at the people jostling each other and taking cover here and there as bricks tumbled off the tops of buildings.

Once again aboard the train they looked down the narrow chasm. How deep it seemed. The train, ignoring the ominous booms and rattles, traversed the chasm as effortlessly as ever. Only a few old-timers remembered the days before the train trestle spanned the chasm, when the only means of communication between villages was a precarious rope-and-plank swinging bridge that one person at a time crossed with shaking nerves and a steady hand. Now, years later, the ease of crossing the chasm was taken for granted as the passengers scrambled aboard and the small steam train routinely chugged back and forth. The young folks politely tolerated the stories of days before the train. That was history. That was then and this was now, they said.

The teachers arrived safely back at their quarters. It was cool, quiet and restful as ever. The owner's small dog, a cocker spaniel, waited their return, just as it did for the still-absent landlord. Its tail wagged hello as it lifted its sad-eyed spaniel face for a welcome-home pat. The cat lounged near the entrance, pretending unconcern at their return.

What to do first? Now that they were home they didn't feel the same anxiety they had at the school. Should they wait and see how things progressed, or should pack up and leave all this behind. Even from their retreat they could faintly hear the guns' muffled thumps.

--I think we should just pack up and leave. At once. Not a moment to lose, as they say, one suggested.
--Perhaps you're right, but let's not be too hasty, the other countered. There's our agreement to consider.
--Yes, of course. There's our agreement. We've committed ourselves to run the program as long as villagers are interested in signing up for classes. And another thing. What about the help? Could we just abandon them? Simply walk away without giving some sort of notice?
--Well, we'd have to give notice of course. Perhaps the staff will stay on, feed the animals and protect the place.
--Ha. They won't stay on. They're only here because we're here. They relish the routine. They believe that as long as we are here then everything is okay. If we leave, they'll leave too, probably steal everything they can get their hands on and run off into the jungle.
--Hmm. Do you realize what you've implied?
--No. Tell me, what are you thinking?
--It seems to me that you've implied we're playing a part in these hostilities. Virtual outsiders like us!
--Oh, don't be absurd. We're just hired-ons. We haven't anything to do with this shelling.
--Well, just look at it. As long as we maintain that things are fine, then they believe the same. Perhaps that's why so many people signed up for the classes.
--What an appalling notion.
--Oh, but it might be true. Look at us. We're just the same. We think that as long as we just do what we're doing, simply running our little school and going home each day to our mansion, that things will be all right. It's the same for them. If we bolt, they'll panic.
--Well, then, if that's the case, then we must leave at once. We're unintentionally giving these villagers a false sense of security.
--Oh, good. We agree. So let's pack up then and be off at once.
--Right you are and not a moment to lose.
The animals sensed a break in the routine. The dog stood up and laid its head on the nearest lap. The cat stirred, and jumped into a just-opened traveling bag.
--Whatever will we do with the animals? Just leave them here or take them with us?
--Well now, that's a good question. Let's see. Perhaps we could get a neighbor to feed them.
--Ha! A neighbor? Absurd. There's no neighbor for a quarter mile. What neighbor would come by?
--Well, what about the help?
--No, that won't work. We've already decided that. They'll be off as soon as we leave.
--You're right, of course. That settles it. We'll have to take the animals with us. I just couldn't live with myself if anything happened to them.
--Oh, all right. You take the dog and I'll manage the cat. Find a box or something. They looked at each other.
--But what of the caged birds?
--We can't possibly take them too. We could never manage on the train, especially those squawking parrots. Perhaps if we gave them lots of food and water they'd be okay.
--Probably not.
--Well, then, there's only one other option.
--What's that?
--Let them go.
--Let them go?
--Certainly. Why not? They'd probably love to have a go at life in the jungle, after all these years of life on a perch.
--Oh, how clever of you.
--That's that ticket. Let the little blighters fly. They opened the cage doors. At first the birds just stared at them and hung back. Then each one hopped forward and poked its beautiful fine-feathered head out through the opening. Then they stretched wings and took flight without looking back. No squawks, no tipping of wings, just colorful blurs fading into the treetops.
--Well, now, that was easy. And so, we'd better fly too.
--Cheers now. Have you got everything? Okay, then, off we go. Just wait till they hear about this one back home.

When they got to the station house, it was shuttered and locked. A small sign was tacked to the window that read: Bridge Out. No Service until further notice.  

(Thus begins the saga of the school teachers...Go to Chapter 2)

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