Free RED HAZE: A Werewolf Story for the 21st Century by Ian Redman Page B

closing the door quietly behind him, Piper sighed, settled back in his chair and closed his eyes.
     
    For late March the weather was quite pleasant. Although the sea salt could be smelt on the cool breeze, the sun was shining, lazily, brightly, its warmth making all the difference to the people in the long queue.
    But it wasn’t particularly so for Claire Mason. She was in the middle of an embarrassing and tedious argument with her husband, John. Both 40 years of age, the couple had been greatly looking forward to their five-day tour of Holland, and to John especially, the visit meant a great deal.
    “Oh Claire, c’mon, the Steamer is superb, just look at her. You know how much I have longed for this riverboat tour. You’ll enjoy the trip, trust me, I know you will.” Claire shrugged. She looked thoroughly miserable!
    Reaching out and wrapping his arms around his wife, John hugged her gently. “Look love, the Steamer has ‘passenger safety’ written all over it.” John was doing his best to try to make a difficult situation, a little easier. “There’s no need to be frightened. There must be plenty of other people in this queue who can’t swim.”
    He was probably right thought Claire as John’s face drew close to hers, throwing her one of his cheeky smiles, which she always loved.
    “What do you bet?” he said, quirkily, “c’mon, I’ll bet you a fiver there are other people here who can’t swim.” John laughed. Claire blushed.
    “Oh, I know…I know,” she replied, sheepishly. With a hushed tone, Claire looked back at the throng of people behind her. Men, women and children, all seemingly happy and excited, waiting to pay their boarding fee and climb on board the beautiful paddle steamer known as the ‘De Neederland’.
    The majestic boat had previously ferried thousands of people on highly educational and thought-provoking tours of Rotterdam’s modernised Dockyards, and was a very popular tourist attraction. John himself had a particular fascination with all types of steamboats. That was why he had looked forward to the trip so much.
    “Oh well,” said Claire, reluctantly shrugging her shoulders, “I suppose you’re right.”
    Then, just behind the couple, another voice spoke.
    A low, singular toned voice. A man’s. “I am sure you will both have a wonderful time.”
    Turning around quickly, the two English tourists looked at the tall, dark haired, bespectacled young man facing them. He was smiling, pleasantly.
    Claire felt a little rush of embarrassment. He must have overheard their silly little argument she thought, her cheeks blushing somewhat. Dismayed and embarrassed, she conceded and spoke to the stranger. “I suppose I am being a little silly. It’s just that…well…I can’t swim and I have this terrible fear of water.”
    “We all have something to fear,” said the stranger, continuing to smile.
    John interrupted the flow of conversation. “Do I recognise a possible German accent?” he said, inquisitively.
    “Yes, I am from Berlin. My name is Gerhard.” The man’s right hand reached out from his jacket pocket. John, then Claire, shook it warmly.
    Again, Claire felt a little embarrassed, but the German gentleman’s pleasant charm and charisma soon put her at ease. Yes, she thought, he seems very nice, and he would be fun to talk to on the tour, especially as she had always wanted to visit Berlin.
    It was John who broke the friendly silence of strangers meeting for the first time. “Well…here we go!” he said.
    The three looked around as a portly, grey bearded gentleman, wearing a black, flat sailor’s cap bid the growing throng of people a hearty “good afternoon”. With a gleam in his eyes, he unclasped the short red-knotted rope attached to the entry of the gangway and casually walked over to the ticket box. As the queue of people began to move, Claire and John stepped slowly forward, Gerhard too, pulling a tatty looking rucksack over his shoulder. 
    John was