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- Herausgeber: tredition
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
Yana escapes an arranged marriage and finds solace in Sofia's sanctuary, the Cradle of the White Lioness, a shelter for homeless children. With Sofia's loving support, she overcomes her fears by taking on the role of mother to a young boy named Erster. As Yana matures into a young woman, her community is gripped by a series of baffling dog deaths. Determined to uncover the truth, she joins forces with the charming detective Jack Renna. Together they uncover the truth behind not only the dog killings, but also a man's murder that goes back decades. Embark on a gripping adventure as Yana and Jack navigate the complexities of crime and devotion in their pursuit of justice. I, Yana, weaves a tale of strength, love and the uncovering of dark secrets that will keep you guessing until the final revelation.
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I, YANA
BEA ESCHEN
Copyright © 2020 by Bea Eschen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printing and distribution on behalf of the author: tredition GmbH, An der Strusbek 10, 22926 Ahrensburg, Germany
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
1. The cradle and erster, my love
2. Timmy and sofia, my soul mates
3. The will
4. Avril
5. The garden of eden
6. The letter
7. Gabriela and eleonor
8. A new life
9. The killing
10. The investigation and jack renna
11. The archive
12. The invitation
13. The meeting
14. The murder
15. The evidence room
16. The confession
17. Weekend dinner at last
18. One decade later
Afterword
Also by bea eschen
I, Yana
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
1. The cradle and erster, my love
Afterword
Also by Bea Eschen
I, Yana
Cover
I
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III
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1
THE CRADLE AND ERSTER, MY LOVE
I am looking at the large mural of a white lioness. Her fur shimmers in the sun, which shines through the opposite window onto the picture. It feels like the mighty animal looks me straight in the eyes. It gives me courage. I imagine her to be powerful and caring, proud and dignified – just as I wish to be.
I, Yana, am fifteen years old and live in the Cradle of the White Lioness; a home for orphaned and unwanted children. Within these walls I find protection and refuge.
MY MEMORIES OF THE FIRST DAYS ARE blurred. I was very hungry, exhausted and dirty. My once colourful dress was faded and tattered on my body. I had worn it when I ran away from my much older cousin. In an unguarded minute I had sneaked out of his house without taking anything except what I was wearing. My parents had married me to him when I was little. He had planned to take me to a foreign country against my will. But that's not where I wanted to go.
SOFIA, THE LEADER OF THE ORPHANAGE AND my best friend, has been helping me to hide from him. Herself homeless in the past, she reads to us today from her self-written stories; a series of books under the title ‘The Cradle of the White Lioness’ - a children's novel. Our home is also named after it.
I get along well with most of the children and helpers, but my biggest love is Erster. He has become a part of me and when I talk about me, I mean him too. Sofia found him lying in a basket outside the door as an infant. He was the first child in the Cradle. That's why they called him Erster, which is the German word for First One. I took care of him from the very beginning. He's a sweet boy. I try to give him what I was denied - a feeling of belonging and love. Despite my past, my maternal instincts are healthy. Maybe, because Sofia was always very caring and showed me how to love. Maybe, because even in my early years I missed it a lot to be loved.
Erster's fascination is with playing At War. One of our rooms is fitted with a huge stage comprising hills, caves, a forest, loopholes and two armies. Every day he spends hours in the playroom and leaves a big mess afterwards.
"Can we clean up now?" I ask him in the evening.
"How?", he asks back.
"Pick up the soldiers and put them back in line."
He shakes his head.
"The other kids want to find the table exactly as you found it."
He agrees and lines up the soldiers. Then he comes back to me to claim his reward. I kiss him on his greasy cheeks and hold him tight against me. He runs away again. This time it's Sofia's turn. She lifts him lovingly onto her lap. He wants to turn the pages faster than Sofia can read them.
"Don't you want to know what the white lioness will do with her baby?" Sofia asks him.
"Yes!", shouts Erster and jumps to the ground. He gets the toy lioness and a cub and climbs back onto Sofia's lap. His little hands clutch the two wooden animals with which he re-enacts the scenes from the story.
After reading, Erster and I go out into the courtyard to get some fresh air. It is overgrown with tropical plants and we often find colourful birds sitting on the branches. A small fish pond provides entertainment. We watch the fish and listen to the birdsong and the splashing of the small fountain. Erster points to every fish that appears on the surface.
The courtyard is also Eleonor's home. Eleonor is a Dalmatian. The good dog lies down leisurely at our feet.
"One, two, three, five, six, eight," Erster begins counting.
"Stop," I call out, "let's try it again together."
This time it works. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten."
"I can only count to ten," Erster says and jumps up to chase after a bird.
• • •
THE COURTYARD CONNECTS THE CRADLE TO a second shelter, which is for adult homeless people. It is a new building and looks very modern compared to our old, villa-like home. Sometimes Sofia takes me there. The shelter has many small rooms with comfortable beds that are freely available. The new arrivals have to register in Sofia's office - a small cottage in the front garden of the Cradle. When I am in Sofia's attic apartment, I watch the old sick people coming through the gate. Some of them look really horrible. Many cough, limp or can only walk in small steps. They are dressed in oversized, thick coats and carry their belongings in a bundle or in an old plastic bag.
One of them is Gabriela, Eleonor's owner. She leaves with the Dalmatian in the morning and returns again at sunset to sleep in a cosy room on the ground floor. Today we meet her in the courtyard when she feeds Eleonor.
"You, little one," she says in a raised voice, "you make Eleonor nervous with your racing around!”
Intimidated, Erster pauses and lowers his gaze.
"I'm sorry, but he only moves at a run." I smile in an attempt to calm her anger, but it doesn't work.
"So, take him to the playground. The yard is no place for children," she snaps.
"Yes, it is," I reply boldly. "After all, it's part of the Cradle."
Gabriela shrugs her shoulders and disappears. I've always found her odd and casually shake the incident off.
THERE IS MUCH TO DO IN OUR SHARED home. Every child has tasks to complete. It doesn't bother me much, because I've had jobs to do from when I was a small child. When I was still living at home, before I was married off to my cousin, I helped my mother with cooking and washing dishes and handed her the pieces when hanging up the laundry. Here, I clean the vegetables every day, change the sheets and mop the floors. For the children who never had a home, the routine is difficult. I can understand that, as I lived on the streets with them for years. On the street, there was no routine. We did what we wanted. No adult to tell us what to do. Yet life on the street and life in the Cradle have something in common. We support each other as best we can. In the Cradle, the big kids help the little kids wash, dress and eat. They supervise them when they play outside and help them climb and jump. The big kids teach the little ones worldly wisdoms they have learned on the street. One piece of advice I will never forget. It still sends shivers down my spine when I think about it. Never trust a stranger adult who offers you sweets. They're almost always the ones who want something else from you.
