The Lie (27 page)

It was already dark outside when she fetched a towel and went down into the basement. At the back of her mind was Nadia's comment that he was in a league of his own in the pool. Of course she didn't intend to find out for herself, certainly not that evening. Perhaps later on, after she'd had the child - and some swimming lessons. She got undressed and sat on the edge of the pool, dangling her legs in the water. After a while she let herself cautiously down into the water, holding on to the side with both hands until she felt her toes touch the bottom. The water came up to her throat and was unpleasantly cool. Shivering and summoning up all her courage, she let go and waved her arms around like a swimmer. She didn't move from the spot.

Around eight she tried ringing the lab again. No one answered. That suggested to her that Michael was on his way home, so she started preparing a further large meal and set the table in the dining room for two. Nadia had talked about things being tense between them, but on the Sunday in August, when she'd had her practice run as stand-in, he'd been perfectly agreeable after having had “one hell of a row” with Nadia.

By nine the food was getting burned. She ate alone and decided to have soused herrings in cream sauce for dessert. Then she treated herself to another helping of the ice cream followed by an espresso. She didn't want to be fast asleep and miss him when he came home. At ten she settled down in front of the TV, leaving the door out onto the landing open. She also had another espresso, but despite that she
gradually found herself slipping down on the couch. That Thursday had been - after an almost sleepless night - a long, hectic and stressful day. Eventually she stretched out and let herself slide gently into a restful slumber.

Eleven o'clock passed, twelve o'clock passed and the light slumber became a deep sleep. She hadn't put the light on. The room was filled with the grey-blue flicker of the rapidly changing scenes on the screen. By now it was a gory horror film, mostly set in a nocturnal graveyard. Other sounds mingled with the panting and slurping of the monsters and the screams of their tormented victims. She registered them unconsciously, but they fitted in so well with the general background noise that they didn't bring her back to the surface.

The metallic click of the central locking as the alarm was switched on could have been the breaking of bones, the whirring of the shutters sounded almost the same as the shuffling of the undead, the steps on the stairs echoed those coming from the television. A movement sensor activated the landing light. Through the open door it shone on her face, disturbing her even behind closed lids. At the same time a woman on the television shrieked, begging for her life. All at once she was wide awake again, blinked blearily and saw that the light was on.

“Michael?” she called. There was no answer. She sat up and listened. Nothing could be heard apart from the nerve-shattering noise from the TV. She switched it off. Everything was quiet. The light on the landing went off again and the room sank back into darkness. She had the sour taste of sleep in her mouth. “Michael?” she called out again.

Again no answer. Nor were any other sounds to be heard. With a deep sigh she pushed herself up and felt her way to the door. Immediately the landing light went on again. The bedroom door was open but it was dark inside. And quiet! Everywhere was quiet. And since she didn't know what had woken her, she came to the conclusion that she was alone in the house. There could be a thousand technical explanations for the light going on.

She went down the stairs, saying a few words to her baby on the way, and drank half a glass of mineral water in the kitchen, to wash the sour taste out of her mouth. And then back up. Now there was a faint light coming from the bedroom.

“Michael?” she called out again.

There was no answer this time either. Slowly she went to the door. The light in the bedroom wasn't on, it came from the bathroom. Damn, she thought, he's in a huff. In a real huff.

He was naked, cleaning his teeth at one of the washbasins. He didn't deign even to glance at her although she stood, motionless, in the doorway for at least a minute, looking at him and trying to control the turmoil inside her. Finally he switched off his toothbrush, walked up to her and past her as if she wasn't there, and got into bed, throwing back the cover from his half of the bed alone.

“Why won't you answer?” she asked.

No reaction. He went into the dressing room. She followed him and watched as he took his clothes and alarm clock out of the wardrobe drawers. Ignoring her completely, he went back into the bedroom and took the things into the bathroom. Again she followed him. He put the alarm clock on the shelf and went back into the bedroom. Only when he got to the bed did he turn round and ask, “Why did you ring?”

“I wanted to know when you were coming home. Didn't they tell you?”

He sat down on the bed. “Yes, they did. It's just that I couldn't believe you really meant it. I thought there must be some special reason. Perhaps the house had burned down or you'd run out of petrol.”

It didn't sound as if he thought Nadia was being unfaithful, more as if he were afraid she'd started drinking again. “Didn't you manage to sort out the problem with the shredder?” she asked cautiously. “You sound as if you're in a bad mood.”

He gave a hoarse laugh. “Oh, you noticed? Remind me to ring the date in the diary.” Then he lay down, pulled up the blanket and said, “If you feel like a chat, call Philip, I'm too tired.”

He quickly fell asleep. She was lying only a couple of inches away from him, but she might just as well have been on the moon. Twice she felt she couldn't stand being so close to him like that, crept downstairs, stood there in the kitchen for a while, drank some more mineral water, swallowed a few tears as well, promised her child everything would turn out fine, then climbed back into bed beside him.

It wasn't until about five that she fell into a light, restless sleep. And just one hour later it was all over again. The covers were thrown back beside her, waking her up. A soft, regular buzzing was coming through the open door to the bathroom. He went in, naked as he was. The buzzing
stopped. She got up as well and followed him. He was already in the shower. Through the glass door he looked like a ghost.

Despite his frosty behaviour, she felt the need to touch him, if only just for a second, as a parting gesture.

It was to be a parting - for many months. However hard Philip Hardenberg might push for her to act as stand-in during the next few weeks, Nadia wouldn't allow it. When they had more time than yesterday, Nadia would check whether there were any give-away signs yet. And Nadia would realize that now there was a big difference, a whole cup size difference. At that moment she didn't care if he noticed.

 

Her feet took her automatically to the shower. Her hands slid the door open. He responded with an irritated look and a dismissive, “You needn't bother, I don't feel like morning exercises.”

At that moment the sickness hit her, a hot wave surging up into her throat. She just managed to get to the lavatory in time. He watched, dumbfounded, through the open shower door as she went down on her knees, heaving and retching until her stomach had been emptied of the last bits of ice cream and soused herring.

“Too much to drink again?” he asked when she finally straightened up. It sounded cold, as if the question had been asked too many times.

She stood up, staggered over to one of the washbasins and rinsed her mouth out. Her stomach was still sending up little waves of nausea.

“It's no use denying it,” he said as he rubbed himself dry. “You went down twice. I did notice.”

“I only had some water to drink,” she said.

“Of course,” he said. “That's why you were puking your guts out. Take an aspirin, it's good for a hangover.”

“I haven't got a hangover,” she said.

“You haven't?” he asked in astonishment. “Then why have my soused herrings disappeared from the fridge?”

She preferred not to explain that. Instead she said, “I've got to go out soon and there's something I want to tell you first.”

He went over to the other washbasin, took an electric shaver out of the cupboard and grimaced. In the mirror it looked almost like a smile. “Go ahead,” he said magnanimously, “I'm all ears. I can spare you five minutes.”

He switched the shaver on and ran it over his cheeks and chin. The buzzing grated on her nerves. And his attitude, his icy coldness! She shook her head. “I can't. Not when you're like that.”

His eyes were on her in the mirror. Again he twisted his mouth in the grimace that was almost a smile and seemed to express hurt, carrying on shaving all the while. “But I can, you think, whatever you're like.” At last he switched the shaver off and put it back in the cupboard, turned round and looked her straight in the eye. “I'm sorry if I can't fulfil your expectations. I know you imagine that with all the money you invested in me you'd got someone who'd be at your beck and call day and night. But, damn it all, I'm not a robot you can switch on or off whenever you happen to feel like it.” As he finished he was already heading for the door.

“I love you,” she mumbled.

He stopped and turned round. “What did you say? I didn't hear it properly.”

“I love you,” she repeated, louder this time. “I shouldn't say it, I'm only hurting myself. But I want you to know that, even if my feelings don't count for you.”

He took a deep breath, keeping his eyes fixed on her. “So you have noticed. To be honest, it surprises me. But you're right, at the moment there are at least a dozen things I can think of that are considerably more important to me than your idea of love.”

He shrugged his shoulders and grimaced, as if to excuse his lack of interest. Then he went on, speaking slowly and deliberately, “On the other hand, if making that admission hurts you, then perhaps a discussion to clear the air wouldn't be a complete waste of time. Only unfortunately we'll have to put it off to another day. '

His sarcastic tone helped her a little to deal with the turmoil inside. He wasn't seeing her, he was seeing Nadia, and what he said was directed at Nadia alone. In September it had been painful to realize that, now it was a comfort. She finally got into the shower. As she was about to close the glass door behind her, she saw him leaning against the doorframe, looking at her again with a long, searching look.

“Did you really mean it the way it sounded?” he asked, sounding himself almost the way he had the first time she'd acted as Nadia's stand-in. She just nodded. He sucked in his lower lip and waited a few
seconds before saying, “I'll be pretty late today. As you heard, there was an emergency yesterday. We've got to start from scratch.”

“What happened?” she asked.

He sighed. “One of our old friends. Comes straight from another series and gets the TA to give him a full dose, without saying a word. His blood pressure shot up, we thought he was going to die on us. If everything goes as planned today, I could get to Demetros's by nine. It could well be half-past, though.”

“Doesn't matter,” she said, already fighting back the tears and wishing he'd go. He seemed to be wondering whether to take her in his arms or not. But she was spared that. With a final nod he left the bathroom.

When she came down to the kitchen half an hour later, he'd already gone. On the table were the
Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung
and an unsealed, unaddressed envelope with two tickets for a concert by Niedenhoff. Attached by a paper clip was a note with greetings from Frederik covering the Christian name on the tickets. Assuming Niedenhoff was called Frederik, she took the envelope into the living room and put it on the piano. Then she made herself a coffee and some toast and ham. The only other thing in the fridge was a packet of cream cheese, in September it had been decidedly better filled. She didn't like cream cheese. She took two bites of the toast and drank half the cup of coffee. The knowledge that she had paved the way to a reconciliation with Michael for Nadia made it impossible for her to eat more. She didn't know if she'd be able to take it, if it was always going to be like this later on.

Before going out to the garage, she went to the larder and filled a plastic bag with two tins of chicken soup, two ready meals that didn't need to be kept refrigerated and the rest of the ham from the kitchen. Nadia could get herself some more if she felt like some for breakfast over the weekend. She put her envelope in the bag as well, so that Nadia wouldn't see it in the evening.

She couldn't stand it in the house any longer and got the Alfa out at half-past six. She was much too early for the shop and she would have had time to take the bag with the food and the envelope to her flat. But when that occurred to her she was already in a multi-storey car park close to the confectioner's and couldn't be bothered to go out again. She parked on the first floor - without a glance at the list of charges.

Frau Schädlich was surprised to see the elegant jacket and her new hairdo, but delighted to find her waiting at the door. “How's your mother?” she asked.

“Just a broken leg,” she said. “But she was very confused from the anaesthetic and insisted I buy myself a new jacket and have my hair done.”

“It's not something to be taken lightly,” Frau Schädlich said earnestly. “If she needed anaesthetic it can't have been a simple fracture.” She went on about osteoporosis and saw her fears confirmed when, shortly after twelve, she called from the office, “Quick, Frau Lasko. I think it's the nurse again. I couldn't understand properly, it's a bad line.”

As Frau Schädlich had said, it was a terrible line. Nadia's words were distorted and truncated by crackling and hissing. She sounded tense and stressed out. First of all she asked if there had been any problems with Michael. With Frau Schädlich listening in the background, she decided it was best to stick to a simple no. The manageress, presumably thinking she was refusing to leave the shop again to go and be with her mother, said, “It would be very inconvenient today, but as I said before, it's not something to be taken lightly. With old people broken bones can be disastrous.”