He tugs her away from the cupboard and pushes her towards the bed. At the same time he fumbles with the zipper of his jeans.
‘Undress,’ he says, repeating his command.
If she wants to survive, there’s only one choice, but dear God!
Weary with misery, Lisa sinks on to the bed and lies on her back.
‘Open your trousers,’ he says, as he lets his own drop.
She doesn’t get much further than opening her zip. She can’t bring herself to pull down her trousers.
Kreuger kicks off his shoes with a couple of rapid movements and steps out of his jeans. His legs are skinny and covered in black hairs, and his underpants need a wash.
Lisa quickly looks at something else: the water-colour of a tropical beach hanging on her wall. The mattress creaks; he’s beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him looking down at her, supported on one elbow. He traces the curve from her breast to her navel with a finger.
‘Take off your trousers,’ he says softly.
Her eyes become damp, but she stops herself from crying. She can’t turn into a sobbing wreck. Crying women bring out the worst in men, reminding them of their vulnerability and reinforcing their conviction that they can do what they want with them.
With great difficulty, she wriggles out of her skinny jeans. Kreuger pulls off her shoes and throws them to the ground. The jeans follow.
‘So,’ he says as his eyes travel over her body. ‘It would be nice if you didn’t look so frightened. Am I that disgusting?’
The threat in his voice quickly causes Lisa to shake her head.
‘Is it such a punishment to have sex with me?’ He becomes even more threatening, and again she shakes her head.
‘My hand,’ she says weakly. ‘I hurt my hand.’
With an expression that suggests he’d forgotten the violent start to things, he looks at the bandage: a new red stain is showing through. His face relaxes, becoming almost friendly.
‘All right, I was afraid you were taking the mickey. I mean, I feel something between us. Something very special. Don’t you?’
She nods wordlessly, and he bends towards her, kissing her on the mouth. ‘So, try and be sweet to me.’
His hand slides into her panties and his fingers begin to search.
Lisa opens her lips. Her body shakes heavily, like the onset of an epileptic fit.
‘That’s nice, isn’t it?’ Kreuger says with a smile as he pushes his fingers in. ‘Now then, darling, now you can do something for me.’
Full of disgust, Lisa rubs his back with the palm of her hand, as though her fingertips were too sensitive to bear contact with his skin.
‘Is that all you can come up with?’ he says with irritation.
She swallows with difficulty. ‘Calm down, we’ve got lots of time.’
Terrifying images in which she is forced to cater to all of his needs appear in her mind’s eye, but it soon becomes clear that he doesn’t have that much self-control. If she’s clever, she can make sure he’s satisfied before she has to work through an extended programme.
Rather more motivated now, she strokes his back and his biceps, and lets her hand slide into his underpants. She tells herself to hurry.
Her hand reaches for his cock and begins to work it. Kreuger withdraws his fingers from her and lets out a panting groan. ‘Oh my God, that’s fantastic.’
He attacks her breasts, biting and lapping at them. Lisa turns her head away and looks out of the window. Just a little longer and she’ll be done with it.
‘Spread your legs,’ Kreuger gasps as he pulls down her panties. He moves upwards and forces his tongue into her mouth. Feeling as if she’s choking, Lisa suffers what Kreuger undoubtedly takes for a passionate kiss. He frees his penis from her hand, pushes her legs open and bores into her.
Hammering and jerking, he works himself up to a climax, but the time it takes seems endless.
The tropical beach, with its palm trees and intense blue sea, looks reassuringly peaceful. Years ago, before Anouk was born, she and Mark had gone on holiday to the Dominican Republic. They’d taken a diving course in the hotel swimming pool. Lisa will never forget her first experience of sinking down into the under-water world of the Caribbean Sea with an oxygen tank on her back. The multicoloured coral reefs, the schools of tropical fish and the gentle blue of the water formed a fairytale world. Her eyes, like one of the sponges she touched with her fingertips, soaked up all the beautiful things around her, storing this peaceful world somewhere deep in her heart so that she could return to it whenever she wanted. Like now.
Her gaze becomes hazy and she breathes more and more shallowly, until everything seems to move in slow motion. The groaning and panting above her takes on a dull sound and a mantra hammers away in her head, cutting through the pain and disgust. I’m not here, I’m not here, I’m not here.
Her soul takes a step back and moves to a world that no noise can penetrate, where every movement is slow and gentle. An aquamarine, swishing underwater world in which schools of tropical fish swim around her and waving plants caress her body. Lisa is safe under water, and when Kreuger is finally done with her, she has to try very hard before she can surface again.
25
Someone has come in. Far away in her dreams, Senta hears the rattling of a trolley and the muted chatter of nurses in the corridor. She slowly leaves the dream world where she is roaming about in the fog and returns to reality.
There’s a light on in the glass-enclosed nurses’ station. Senta’s monitors give off some light, but around her bed it is dark. She hears the beeping of the equipment around her.
Senta forces her eyes shut. For reasons she doesn’t understand, she wants to return to her dream. She doesn’t know exactly what it was about – the images have vanished – but the uneasy feeling she’d had has not dissipated. The many invisible threads of her mind hold on to it tightly, as though trying their best to attract her attention.
Hospital life slowly starts up, making it unlikely that she’ll be able to fall asleep and return to her dream. Finally, Senta accepts that the day has begun.
‘Good morning!’ Dr Reynders stands at the foot of her bed, smiling. ‘How are you feeling today? Sleep well?’
Senta smiles back. ‘Yes, very well. I had some confusing dreams, but I feel rested.’
‘Fantastic.’ Dr Reynders looks at her chart. ‘I’ve got good news. The most recent tests were all excellent. I think we’ll be able to discharge you soon.’
‘I can go home? When?’
‘Let’s see.’ Dr Reynders sits down on a stool next to Senta’s bed. ‘Victims of near-drowning who haven’t inhaled water can usually go after a day, but you lost consciousness. According to your rescuer, you lost consciousness just before he got you above water. He felt you go limp. The second you lose consciousness, your mouth opens and water pours into your lungs. We couldn’t detect any, but even a minute amount is enough to cause ARDS.’
‘ARDS?’
‘Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome: a dangerous reaction to injury or infection that can manifest itself up to forty-eight hours after a near-drowning. The chance of its happening now is small, but I’d rather keep you in an extra day.’ Dr Reynders gives Senta a searching look. ‘How’s your memory now? You still don’t remember anything of the accident?’
‘No, nothing at all.’
‘Hmmm, then the likelihood of its returning is quite remote. Not that that matters, you know,’ she adds hastily. ‘It’s very common for accident victims to forget the circumstances after a hard knock or oxygen deprivation. Some people lose a few minutes, some an hour or more. We call it retrograde amnesia.’
‘So I’ve lost that hour for ever?’
‘It’s possible,’ Dr Reynders says, nodding. ‘But if you think how lucky you are to have survived unharmed, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.’
‘No,’ Senta agrees. But after the doctor gives her a firm handshake before continuing on her rounds
, she spends a long time staring at the ceiling.
In the afternoon she’s transferred to medium care. When Frank arrives, she’s just been moved into a room with three other patients.
‘It was quite a hunt finding you!’ He’s arrived with a broad grin, a bunch of flowers and a few magazines. He bends over Senta and kisses her on the lips. ‘Hello, darling, how are you feeling?’
‘Good, actually. I’d like to go home.’ She accepts the magazines and buries her nose in the flowers. They are sunflowers, fresh and cheerful, with thick stems. ‘How beautiful! Thank you. These will brighten up this boring room.’
‘And afterwards you can take them home with you.’ Frank sits next to her on the bed and Senta moves over to give him more room. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her close. They sit like this for some time, not saying a word.
Finally Frank breaks the silence, his voice a little hoarse. ‘Jesus, Senta, I really thought I’d lost you.’
‘Yes . . .’ she says quietly.
‘I’ve spent a lot of time thinking. About you and me, about our relationship, our family, how we’d talk the day over, just the two of us, with a glass of wine in the evening . . .’ He twists a piece of Senta’s hair around his finger, an old habit he’d abandoned years earlier. That glass of wine had become less frequent recently. She understands what he means: that he too is aware that something in their relationship has imperceptibly changed.
‘I’d thought the children had grown so much, but suddenly they were really . . . childish,’ Frank says. ‘One minute they’re all gobby, and the next all three of them are pressed against you crying.’ He stops, stares into the distance and then gives her a sideways look. ‘This could have been the end of our family. Of my life. If you’d drowned, it would have ruined my life, Senta.’
His voice sounds serious and so open. All of a sudden she has a crystal-clear recollection of the moment she fell in love with him. They had both been studying at the School for Journalism. From the start they’d been in the same circle of friends; they had often worked together and helped each other with their essays. But no sparks flew until a party, just before graduation. Up to that point she’d considered Frank a nice boy, a good friend, but nothing more. But at the party she’d become aware for the first time of how cheerful he was; he was always so full of stories. Frank livened up any group of people he joined. He certainly wasn’t the most handsome man at the school, but he always knew how to draw the attention of the female students. That evening he’d seemed quite intimate with Miriam, a girl that Senta didn’t know well. She saw them standing there, their arms wrapped around each other, the besotted look Miriam gave him, and she felt a fierce stab of jealousy. She realised she wanted Frank herself, and she made sure that she got him. She seduced him. Frank didn’t know what had hit him, but he went along with it without reservation. He dropped Miriam like a hot coal, and when he took Senta back to her student flat that evening, he admitted that he’d had an enormous crush on her all through college. He’d never admitted it because he didn’t want to ruin their friendship.
That Senta seemed to reciprocate his feelings made him unspeakably happy.
‘What are you thinking?’ Frank’s mouth is right next to her ear.
‘About that party and our first kiss.’
Frank smiles at the memory. ‘The best night of my life. I can remember every hour of that evening, you know? My life didn’t really start until then.’
It sounds dramatic, but Senta knows that she’s always been the centre of Frank’s world, and even though she’s started to take this position for granted, she’s never doubted his love for her.
‘You should make sure you love your husband less than he loves you,’ her mother used to say. ‘Otherwise you’ll feel dependent and unhappy and no man is worth that.’
What her mother hadn’t said was how tiring it was to swing constantly between periods of doubt and certainty.
‘How have you managed at home?’ she asks now. ‘Nijmegen is quite a long drive.’
‘We’re staying at Anka’s. She wants to come to see you.’ Frank gives her an understanding look.
‘Not right now. I only want to see you and the children for the time being.’ Senta doesn’t feel like the company of her boisterous cousin, or that of any other family member. ‘Have you told my father?’ she suddenly asks.
‘No, I thought I’d wait. Given his heart problems. You agree, don’t you?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Frank gets down from the bed and gives her a kiss. ‘I must go. I’ll come back this evening with the children. Do you need anything?’
‘Yes.’ Senta hardly dares look at him. ‘Could you get me a new mobile phone?’
26
It feels like she’s been crying for hours, gently and soundlessly. Kreuger has gone downstairs. He’d smiled at her from the doorway, and she’d been able to muster just enough strength to smile back at him. After that she’d lain there completely frozen for minutes, staring, as though by not moving the terrible thing that had happened to her could be undone, or in any case ignored. But the anaesthesia that had been keeping her emotions under control slowly began to wear off, and the tears came with the unstoppable force of a tidal wave. They rushed over her, and she pressed her face into the pillow to stifle her sobs.
Kreuger had stripped a layer from her; he had roughly torn away the shield that had provided her with protection and self-confidence, a vulnerable but, until now, untouched second skin of self-esteem and identity, leaving her soul exposed and bare.
Lisa turns on to her side with a groan, and suddenly realises that Anouk is alone downstairs with Kreuger. She gets up in a panic and dresses. However much she’d love to spend hours in the shower, she has to make do with clean clothing.
As she walks down the stairs with difficulty, a nagging pain between her legs, she continues to repeat to herself that this isn’t the end of her life. She is still breathing, she is still the same Lisa that she was an hour ago. And, at the same time, she realises what a ridiculous thought this is. Nothing will be the same from now on.
If he has done anything to my daughter, I’ll murder him, she thinks grimly. I don’t care what the consequences are; he’ll pay with his life.
She pushes the door handle downwards and almost throws open the door, afraid of what she will see. Her gaze darts first to the dining table, which is covered with open pots of finger-paint and sheets of Anouk’s artwork.
Where is Anouk? She hurries inside and looks wildly around her.
‘Anouk!’ she cries with a catch in her voice.
‘I’m in the kitchen, Mummy,’ comes her daughter’s voice.
Lisa hurries to the kitchen. Anouk is standing on a chair by the worktop and washing her hands carefully with soap, assisted by Kreuger. ‘Good girl, and now that bit. Look, your thumb is still red.’
Lisa leans against the doorpost and takes a few deep breaths. Her heart begins to beat calmly again, and she manages to put on a smile when Kreuger looks around at her.
‘She made a lot of paintings,’ he says cheerfully.
‘I saw. Lovely!’ Lisa’s voice sounds strange, and her smile feels like a plastic mask on her face, but Kreuger doesn’t seem to notice. He looks satisfied, relaxed even, until Anouk jumps down from the chair and runs to her mother, as though she can’t take another minute of Kreuger’s company. With a wild gesture, she throws her arms around Lisa’s waist and presses her face against her.
‘Where were you?’
‘I had to do something upstairs. You were having a nice time painting, weren’t you?’
‘You mustn’t go away. Why wouldn’t the door open?’
Oh my God, she tried to come in, Lisa thinks in a flash. Her eyes find Kreuger’s over the top of her daughter’s head, and suddenly she feels almost grateful to him for having secured the door; he had spared Anouk something, at least. If that had indeed been his intention, and he hadn’t just been trying to stop Lisa from making a speed
y escape. It’s hard to see inside the mind of a killer, a child killer at that. Perhaps the deranged mind that caused him to commit such horrendous deeds also contains some humanity. She has to trust that this is the case. He hasn’t murdered them, and it doesn’t seem like he is planning to, although she can never be sure. She hasn’t got a clue what his next move might be.
Her injured hand has stopped throbbing, and she spends the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen. She has always enjoyed cooking, and it is her saving grace now. It gives her something to do, distracts her from her fears. She fetches the radio from the basement and turns it on low, so as not to disturb Kreuger, who is watching sports in the sitting room. He has got a bottle of beer from the garage and put his feet up on the coffee table. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it was Mark sitting there.
Her eyes glide to the photos attached to the fridge with magnets. Lots of pictures of Mark and herself, moments from another life, when they’d only just met and she was still young and full of hope. Convinced of her attractiveness, sure of her power to get him, exclusively, for herself alone.
She opens the door of the microwave to check whether the meat has defrosted yet. She has always filled her cupboards and freezer with tins, bread and meat, to cut down on shopping trips. Given Anouk’s attacks of breathlessness, she’d done a huge shop on Saturday.
Perhaps it would have been better if the cupboards had been bare today. But Kreuger would probably have ordered in pizza. Or, more likely, they’d have lived on stale bread and leftovers.
The least she can do is to continue to take good care of herself and Anouk, to keep up her strength. She might desperately need it.
It is as though she has been sucked out of her normal life and spat out into another dimension. Over and over again, her troubled soul projects images in her mind, like a faulty video camera playing on a loop.
Lisa gets the meat from the microwave and puts it on a chopping board. Lean braising steak, or ‘stewed meat’, as she always called it. It was her favourite dish as a child. She didn’t have much of an appetite as an adolescent, but whenever her mother cooked stewed meat, Lisa would devour it. It was the first dish she learned to make when she left home, and she still found it delicious.
Safe as Houses Page 10
