Mike Ormsby - Never Mind the Vampires, Heres Transylvania

Youre back with us in Bucharest, Domnul Mike? The cleaning lady waddles towards me in the lobby of the apartment block, pushing her trolley of buckets and brushes. Her flip-flops slap a welcome on the tiles as she approaches. Did you press the button for the lift?

Yes, Doamna Tina, it should be here soon. How are you?

Not bad, thanks for asking. Hows Doamna Angela?

Fine, thanks. Shes upstairs in our flat.

We step into the lift and Tina pokes the control panel. She looks tired and much older than the last time we met. Just over four years ago? Her hands are pale, almost transparent. Must be all those buckets of soapy water. She reaches out to steady a nervous mop.

So, where are you these days, Domnul Mike?

Azerbaijan, until last week. We just moved back to Romania. How are things in the block?

Same as ever, here.

We rise through the floors and an awkward silence descends. Nothing like a small elevator for accentuating big differences. I stare at the stainless steel door and spot a familiar graffito gouged into it: Suck me, Vlaicu. Its still here after all these years. So much for our esteemed Administrator, but thats democracy, I suppose.

How long are you two staying in Bucharest? says Tina.

Not long, were moving to Transylvania. Bought a house.

Oh, I see. So, that means youll have a garden?

Quite a big one.

Then why not take Linda?

Linda who?

Linda who lives in the car park.

I beg your pardon?

Lindas a dog. Look. Tina pulls out her scuffed Nokia and shows me a photo of a scary dog with a black face and stern gaze. Shes a beauty, Domnul. See how alert! Make a good guard dog. Her dad was a Rottweiler. Youll need a dog. Do you have one?

No, although we are thinking about it. I want a local sheepdog, a Ciobnesc with a thick coat for the cold winters.

You should take Linda, everybody here loves her.

In that case, why has nobody here adopted her?

Lindas too big for these little flats, she needs to be outside.

The bell pings and the elevator doors slide apart. Tina spots Angela stacking cardboard boxes in the corridor beyond and steps out with me. She gives my wife a welcoming hug and tells her about lovely Linda who lives in the car park and why we must adopt her.

Angela checks the photo. Linda looks a bit fierce, Tina.

Doamna Angela, trust me, shes a lovely dog. Ill take you to meet her if you like. But the sooner the better. Tina sounds sad.

How do you mean? says Angela.

The dogcatchers took her. Theyll kill her, any day now.

Kill Linda?

At the compound, its what they do. Wont you save her?

Angela looks at me and we know the answer. Bang goes my sheepdog.

Are you free to visit the compound tomorrow? says Angela.

Tina wipes tearful eyes on a sleeve. Ill take time off.

Great, thanks, Tina. Well go by taxi. Say, 9 a.m.?

Actually, I know a lady who might drive us.

Even better.

Nine sharp, Tina is waiting for us in the car park, dressed in a long grey anorak over a summer frock and red sandals. A skinny blonde stands nearby smoking a long cigarette and wearing a black trouser suit, black beret, silky green scarf, and big sunglasses. She looks French, as in Rsistance. What she doesnt look is happy. Tina introduces her. This is my friend Madeleine. Shell drive us to the dog pound.

Turns out La Madeleine lives in the next block, loves animals, and has rescued six street cats, some of whom appear to have slept on her beret. She jangles car keys above her head. Borrowed some wheels. Shall we? She beckons us and we obey, somewhat intrigued.

Catchers can be such horrible people, says Madeleine, striding on. They just grab any dog they can, doesnt matter what you say. I also rescued four terriers from this car park. They live on my land outside Bucharest. I would take Linda but shes too big. I hope shes still alive. I dread going to the compound, its terribly upsetting, I usually cry my eyes out. But any friend of Tinas is a friend of mine. She glances at the sky and frowns. Looks like rain. Heres the car. Hop in.