Black Ice (23 page)

Scholten said: “Listen, Granny. Me ill.
Verstaan
? I go to bed.”

The old lady looked at him, silently moving her lips.

Scholten said: “Listen. I ill.” He pointed to his breast with his finger, then placed one hand on his forehead, the other on his heart and moaned. “I in bed.” He put both hands together, laid his head sideways on them. “No phone.” He shook his head, made a vigorous gesture of rejection. “No phone!”

The old lady nodded, moved her lips intently. Suddenly she burst into loud laughter. “Ah, yes, yes, I understand!” she said in Dutch. “You're sick! I understand. No phone!” She laughed again and nodded. “Yes, yes!”

Relieved, Scholten took out his wallet, gave her a five-gulden note, said: “That's right, thank you, Granny.
Dank u wel
.”

“
Alstublieft, meneer
.” She laughed and nodded.

Scholten went to the bank. He made out a cheque for three hundred marks and exchanged them for gulden. At ten past nine he parked opposite the side street. Five minutes later he saw Anna Pattenier walking down the street with a firm tread. She was wearing boots that fitted her calves snugly and a coat with a little fur collar. Scholten's heart beat faster.

Amsterdam was fresh and clean. Scholten navigated his way through the crowds of people in the shopping centre at Anna Pattenier's side, walking very upright, his head held high. He cracked jokes. Once Anna stopped and shook with laughter.

They went into three department stores, two pharmacists, a perfumery and three boutiques. Around
eleven he bought her a bottle of scent in the perfumery. It was one she had pushed away because it was too expensive for her. She didn't want to accept it, but he told the salesgirl to pack it up and paid in cash.

Around one o'clock he wrote a cheque for 268 gulden in the last boutique. Anna had tried several dresses on, he had sat on a small curved chair outside the changing room, casting a sideways glance at it now and then, as if by chance. Through the gap beside the curtain he had seen her bare shoulder, and it looked as if she were wearing a black bra.

He had been asked what he thought about the dresses she tried on, and he had said he thought the green one suited her best. Anna was pleased, because she liked the green one best too, but she hadn't been quite sure whether it looked good on her.

Scholten rose from his chair while the salesgirl was hanging the other dresses up, went over to Anna and asked in a low voice if he could pay for the dress, he'd like to give it to her as a present. Anna said no, no, no, no, absolutely out of the question, she gestured with both hands and shook her head, but he wasn't giving way, after all, the salesgirl was standing there with the dress over her arm, smiling, and then Anna gave in, she said all right, but she must buy him a present too.

Out in the street Anna suddenly stopped, took hold of both his ears, kissed him on the mouth and said: “
Jupp, je bent een schat!
”

“I'm a what? A cat?”

She was convulsed with laughter. “No, no, not a cat.
Een schat
! A treasure, it means, a darling.”

Scholten felt happy. He asked if he could call her Anneke. She wondered how he knew the name. He
said: “I heard the landlady in the café call you that.” She said only her friends could call her Anneke. And the landlady. And Scholten.

Scholten said it was about time for a good lunch. She said no, no, no, not yet. She dragged him on, and soon they were standing outside the window of a gentleman's outfitters. She pointed to a green pullover and said it would suit him very well, and it went with her dress too. Scholten said: “No, certainly not. Anyway, I have plenty of pullovers.”

She insisted. In the end she dragged him into the shop and bought him a shirt, blue with a very thin stripe. She found a tie to go with it. The tie was very expensive, and so was the shirt. Scholten stood there in happy silence as she paid. His eyes were moist.

She took his arm. As they left the shop, she asked: “Jupp, are you married?”

Scholten said: “I'm a widower.”

They ate in a good restaurant. After the soup Scholten reached for Anneke's hand and stroked it. She smiled at him.

They were back beside the sea at about four. The sky had clouded over. Scholten parked opposite the side street. He took Anna's packages and followed her. She stopped outside the door of a little house with low windows.

“Another cup of coffee? Or a cup of tea?”

“Coffee would be nice. And a schnapps if you have any.” She laughed. Still in her coat, she put the coffee water on the gas, poured two glasses of schnapps. She took off her coat, threw it over the sofa and dropped into an armchair, stretching her legs.

Scholten looked around. “It's comfortable here.”

“You like it?”

“Wonderful.”

She put one leg over the other and began tugging at her boot.

“Here, let me do that,” he said. She stretched the leg out to him. He took hold of the boot, pulled. He looked nervously at the window. A woman was walking down the street, almost within reach. The curtain left three-quarters of the window clear to anyone's view.

He said: “Can we do it when people outside can look in?”

She laughed. “You're only taking my boots off. That won't interest anyone.”

He pulled at the boot again. When it was off, he put a hand on her foot and said: “But I'd like to do more.”

Anna laughed. She sighed. “Jupp, we're too old for that sort of thing. And much too sensible.”

“Too old, are we? Draw the curtain, and then I'll show you.”

She laughed. “It's not the kind of curtain you can draw.”

He took her second boot off, stood up, tried the curtain. “So it isn't.” He looked at her. “Then let's go into the bedroom.”

“I thought you were a nice man.”

“I am. It's just because I'm so nice I'd like to go into the bedroom with you.”

She laughed. “You stay here and drink your coffee and your schnapps while I put on something else.” She stood up, took her boots and coat and went into the back room. She left the door ajar.

He clasped his hands between his knees, pressed them together, swayed his torso to and fro, smiling with delight. He had to stop himself shouting out loud for happiness. He took another sip of coffee. Then he stood up and went to the door of the back room. He knocked.

“Yes?”

“Can I come in?”

He heard her laugh. Then she sighed. “Jupp, what did I say to you? You must be sensible.”

He gently opened the door.

“I am. It wouldn't be very sensible to stay in there drinking coffee.”

Her feet were bare; she was holding a dressing gown in front of her breasts. He saw her naked shoulders, her hips, part of her thigh.

He said, his throat constricted: “Put that dressing gown down. Just for a moment.”

She looked at him, shook her head. “Jupp, I'm not pretty. And I'm much too old.”

“Don't talk such nonsense. You're a wonderful woman.” He went over to her, placed his hands on her shoulders. Her skin was smooth and cool. He swallowed. “You're driving me crazy.” He drew her towards him.

She held the dressing gown tight in both hands. She put her head on his shoulder. He heard her breathing faster and deeper. His excitement grew. He ran his hands over her bare back.

She said, into the hollow of his throat: “Does it always have to be so quick?”

“How do you mean, quick? Life is short. Who knows how much longer we have to live?” He massaged her back, tried to bring his hands forward and get at her breasts. She pressed the dressing gown to her body.

He said in a voice that he hardly recognized as his own: “What are you doing?” He cleared his throat. “Do you want to drive me even crazier?”

She raised her head from his shoulder and looked at him. “Why don't you even give me a kiss?”

He kissed her. A sound escaped his throat as he felt her return the kiss, tenderly, very carefully.

He put his fingers inside her panties, took her bottom in both hands and pressed it to him, beginning to move his lower body.

She removed her lips from his, laid her face against his throat again. Her breathing was heavy.

He suddenly felt and heard her sobbing against his shoulder. He said in a strangely small, hoarse voice, “What's the matter?” He went on moving his lower body, trying to get one of his hands round to the front of the panties.

When she sobbed again, violently, he stopped. He leaned his head and chest back and looked at her. “What is it?”

Her face was wet with tears.

He swallowed. “What's the matter?” He was upset himself, wondering how he could overcome this setback. “What have I done wrong?” He ran his fingertips over her cheeks, wiping the tears away.

She freed herself from his arms, let the dressing gown fall, went barefoot to the bed and sat down. She sat there, her shoulders drooping, her heavy breasts resting on the curve of her stomach. She wept.

He went over to her, put out a hand to take hold of one breast and then the other, lifted them a little way, felt them. He stroked her back with his other hand. “What's the matter? Do stop crying. It's nothing to cry about. It's good.”

He stroked her belly. Then he put his hand inside the panties and brought his fingers round to the front. She didn't resist. She sat there motionless, tears running down her cheeks. He tried to spread her legs.

Suddenly she raised her eyes and looked at him through her tears. She said: “You only gave me the
dress because you wanted to go to bed with me. And the perfume.”

“What are you talking about?” His hand went on working away. “What makes you think that? You're not a tart.”

“But you think I am.”

“Me? What makes you think so?” He felt her yielding. She spread her legs a little. He said: “Oh yes, that's good. You're a wonderful woman.”

“I'm a tart, that's what you think I am.” She dropped back on the bed, closed her eyes. “Take the dress, Jupp, and the perfume. I don't want them.”

His hand froze.

She put both arms over her face. She said: “You only wanted to go to bed with me. It's always the same.”

He was breathing heavily. He shook his head.

Suddenly he lay down beside her. He took her in both arms. He said: “That's absolutely wrong. What makes you think such a thing? I didn't give you the dress because I wanted to go to bed with you. Or the perfume. I gave them to you because I thought you'd be pleased. That's all. If you don't want . . . if you don't want to do anything now, then we needn't. We have plenty of time. I thought you wanted to. There's no point in it unless we both want to. Or I wouldn't enjoy it myself. We have plenty of time, Anneke.” He rocked her a little in his arms. “Anneke. We have plenty of time. Come on, Anneke. Do stop crying. Come on, Anneke. I won't do anything to you.”

They lay there on the bed for a while, legs dangling over the edge. He stroked her arms, her hair. She put an arm round him, drew him close. He said: “Yes, yes, I'm here. I'll stay with you, Anneke. You don't have to be afraid. I won't do anything to you.”

She said: “Jupp.”

He said: “There, there. And no more waitressing. You shouldn't work so hard. We'll talk about it. You ought to have a good life. Everything will be different from now on. You wait and see, Anneke.”

She held him close.

He said: “There, there.”

He felt his right leg going numb. “Anneke, I'll have to stand up for a minute,” he said. “My leg's gone to sleep.”

She laughed. She let go of him. He stood up and placed his foot carefully on the floor. She sat up, wiped the tears from her eyes, pointed at the leg. “This one?”

“Yes.” He swung the leg. “Damn it, it feels like a thousand pins and needles.”

She reached for the leg, massaged it with both hands. He moaned, uttered a suppressed cry. She stopped, looked at him. “Not good?”

“Yes, yes, it's very good. Go on. It's just, oh, damn it, it tickles so much.” He began chuckling.

In the end they were both laughing out loud. He picked her up from the bed and they stood with their arms round each other. He felt her breasts on his chest.

After a while he sighed. He wiped the tears from his eyes, took her by the shoulders, looked at her and said: “Listen, Anneke. You have your bubble bath now. And have a little rest too. And meanwhile I'll go and see to my cat. He'll want to go out, poor creature, he's been shut up in the room since morning. Then I'll come back with the cat. It won't take long, don't worry.”

She looked at him very gravely.

He felt cold, his heart began to thud. “Or would you rather I didn't come back?”

She said: “You idiot. Go on, be quick, and then come back quick with your cat.”

Scholten did not take his car. He had a great need to feel the wind on his face and the sprinkling of raindrops falling from the dark grey sky.

Twilight was coming on. He walked down the village street, past the warm light of the shop windows, the glowing doorways of bars.

A hundred thousand marks. He'd take over one of those bars. If not in Heemswijk, somewhere else. There were hundreds of such bars in the seaside villages, thousands of them.

Anna knew about the business. She'd be tops in gastronomy. And he'd provide the money and keep the books. That would suit him, he was a trained bookkeeper after all. A bar like that would be child's play compared to the firm of Ferd. Köttgen, Civil Engineering Contractors. And he knew the way Köttgen operated inside out.