by Dora Heldt
Also by Dora Heldt:
Life After Forty
Inseparable
Chaperoned
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2008 Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag GmbH & Co. KG
English translation copyright © 2013 Jamie Lee Searle
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Tidal Shift was first published in 2008 by Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag GmbH & Co. KG as Tante Inge haut ab. Translated from German by Jamie Lee Searle. Published in English by AmazonCrossing in 2013.
Published by AmazonCrossing
P.O. Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
ISBN-13: 9781611090208
ISBN-10: 1611090202
Library of Congress Control Number: 2010919310
For Anika and Till, with the promise never to become an annoying aunt. Hopefully, I’ll be able to keep my word!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Translator
Chapter 1
* * *
The woman at the end of the platform was wearing a red hat and lumbering with a packed luggage cart. She looked a lot like Aunt Inge. Except that Aunt Inge never wore hats and would only ever carry her own luggage in the most exceptional of circumstances. Christine Schmidt squinted, trying to see more clearly. The resemblance was uncanny—and disconcerting. But it couldn’t be her; after all, this was Westerland, a small seaside resort on the isle of Sylt, and Inge lived over three hundred miles away in Dortmund.
Christine lost sight of the woman and looked back toward the train doors. He would soon be emerging from one of them: Johann, only the most wonderful man in the world. They hadn’t seen each other anywhere near enough lately. But today was the first day of their vacation together. Two weeks on Sylt in May—she couldn’t ask for more. Germany’s northernmost island, Sylt was a much-loved tourist destination, renowned for its breathtaking twenty-five-mile-long sandy beach.
When the train pulled into the station, Christine stood on tiptoe. The cars must have been full to bursting, because more and more people were crowding onto the platform. Finally, she saw him, getting out of one of the cars toward the back. She tried to make her way to him, but the swarm of people slowed her progress, and for some reason Johann had stopped in his tracks. When she eventually managed to get close to him, she realized what was causing the holdup. A fully loaded baggage cart stood smack in the middle of the platform, and the woman in the red hat was perched on top of it, ignoring the curses and irritated glares from the people trying to get around her. One of them was Johann, who let out a loud “Scheisse” when his leg collided with metal. The woman just sat there smiling, oblivious to it all. Johann was rubbing his shin with a pained expression. Finally reaching him, Christine put her hand on his shoulder. He turned around, and she saw his grimace transform into a wide smile. His arms wrapped around her, as did the characteristic smell of his cologne. She closed her eyes as he kissed her. The rest of the world disappeared, and life was wonderful again.
Until someone cleared her throat behind them, and a voice that sounded exactly like Aunt Inge’s said, “So, is this your new boyfriend?”
Christine gave a start, pulled away from Johann, and looked at the woman propped on the baggage cart. It was Aunt Inge. Wearing an improbable red hat with a ribbon around the brim. And without Uncle Walter. She looked extremely cheerful and self-satisfied and had a puzzling amount of luggage with her. Inge cocked her head to one side and looked Johann up and down, while he stood there, confused.
“You see, you should always be careful not to swear. You never know who might be nearby. I’m Christine’s aunt. Westerland train station isn’t the ideal place to meet for the first time, but never mind. Aren’t you two a bit old for canoodling in public like that? Oh, well, I’m sure you know best.” She hopped off and looked at her luggage. “Do either of you have any idea how to move this monstrosity?”
Johann quickly pulled himself together, revealing his suave and capable self. “You have to press the handle; otherwise, the brake locks. And I can assure you I didn’t swear. It was a cry of pain. But never mind, let me push the cart for you. Where are you off to?”
While Johann took control and was powering the cart through the station, his own bag slung over his shoulder, Christine was still staring at her aunt in disbelief. She had lost weight and was wearing a close-fitting skirt, a light blouse, and an expensive-looking coat. Inge took her handbag down from the cart, a handbag that matched the deep crimson of her hat, and said, “So, I guess it was a piece of cake after all, then! What’s wrong, Christine? Are you coming or not?”
Christine had to take a couple of deep breaths before she found her voice again. “What are you doing here? Dad didn’t mention you were coming. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have arranged to stay in the loft apartment. You know there’s not enough space for all of us. And where’s Uncle Walter?”
Smiling at her niece, Aunt Inge replied casually, “Don’t get worked up, dear. I’m not sleeping up there in that closet you call an apartment. I’ve rented a vacation apartment from Petra. My brother has no idea I’m coming. And Uncle Walter is at home. Where else would he be? But, my dear, I don’t have the slightest desire to talk about him right now. I think the time has come to make some changes in my life. Now, come on, you can drive me to Petra’s. The taxi prices are exorbitant here.” She adjusted her hat, which had fallen over her face, and then set off, marching quickly toward the exit.
Christine had last seen Aunt Inge just six months ago, at a family get-together in Dortmund to celebrate Uncle Walter’s sixty-fifth birthday. They had feasted on a mixed grill with vegetables and croquette potatoes, drank good brandy, and everything had been grand. Everything apart from Aunt Inge’s toast, in which she had mentioned that Walter’s retirement could lead to her beating him to death on the sofa unless he found himself a sensible hobby. And by hobby, she didn’t mean following the Bundesliga, the German soccer league, or bowling. Sure, Uncle Walter had looked a little hurt, but no one had taken it too seriously. Aunt Inge had never been one for diplomacy.
For a moment, Christine pictured her Uncle Walter on a blood-soaked sofa, but she forced herself to push the image away. She looked at Aunt Inge instead, who was standing next to her car and watching Johann squeeze her luggage into the trunk.
“What do you mean, ‘Th
e time has come to make some changes in my life’? What’s going on with Uncle Walter?”
“Hmm?” Her aunt was watching Johann’s packing skills with concentration. “If you put the red bag lengthways, it might fit better. Or put the big case in first and then the bag.”
“I asked what was happening with Uncle Walter, or should I say, with you and Uncle Walter?”
“As I’ve already said, I don’t want to talk about it. See, there you go, it does fit. Right. Close the trunk and let’s make a move. You can drive me to Petra’s in Kampen right away, and no detours, please. I really need to go to the bathroom.”
Johann slammed the trunk shut and wiped his forehead. “Would you like to go to the station restroom perhaps? I mean, we have time.”
“No, thank you.” Inge sat down in the passenger seat and unbuttoned her jacket. “I never use public toilets. You don’t know who’s been in them before you. Can we go now?”
Christine looked at Johann. He nodded and climbed in the back. With a quick glance up at the four towering sculptures on the station forecourt, Christine opened the driver’s door. The artwork was called Travelling Giants in the Wind and showed four green figures bracing themselves against the blustery weather. Hopefully it wasn’t a bad omen.
As they drove off, past the post office and onto the main road, Inge turned and looked Johann up and down thoughtfully. Then she gave him a friendly smile.
“So you’re Johann. Do you still live in Bremen, or have you shacked up with Christine?”
Johann tried to meet Christine’s gaze in the rearview mirror. She gave him a reassuring nod.
“I live in Bremen where my job is. And no, there has never been any talk of me ‘shacking up’ at Christine’s place,” he said, and chuckled.
Aunt Inge turned her gaze back to the passing scenery. “That’s fine then. It’s just that Christine has a knack for finding men she needs to support financially.”
“Aunt Inge!”
She smirked. “Oh, come on, you’re divorced already, so now you’re finally free to spend your money as you please. I’ve nothing against you, Johann, don’t get me wrong—you seem like a really nice guy. I just don’t agree with people settling down so young. Who knows what life has in store.”
Johann answered politely, “I’m forty-eight. And Christine is just two years younger. We’re not exactly spring chickens anymore.”
“That’s true.” Aunt Inge nodded. “I always forget that. Heavens, Christine, you’re forty-six already?”
Christine stopped at a red light. Aunt Inge pointed to the left.
“You have to turn off here, for List, Kampen, and Wenningstedt. You saw the sign, right?”
“Aunt Inge…” Christine veered off to the left as the light turned green. “May I remind you that I know my way around the island? Look, Johann, there’s the airport over there, and behind it, the marina golf course.”
“Oh yes.” Johann looked out the window.
Aunt Inge was watching him. “If you want to see a golf course, you don’t need to twist your neck like that. We’ll be passing another one in a minute. The Sylt Golf Club. You don’t play, do you? You’re not old enough for golf really. Or do you carry out dodgy business deals while you’re playing?”
Christine groaned. “Aunt Inge, please!” Inge pulled down the sun visor and adjusted her hat. “There are plenty of golf courses here, four in total. So you can play to your heart’s content.”
“I don’t play golf. I jog,” said Johann, ever unperturbed.
“It’s all the same to me,” answered Inge.
They had reached Kampen. Christine drove along the main street, past the thatched-roof houses, and turned into Braderuper Strasse. She looked over at her aunt, who was staring out the window, lost in thought.
“What’s the name of Petra’s street again?”
“Wuldeschlucht. The fifth on the right. But I thought you knew your way around?”
Her niece didn’t answer, while Johann stifled a grin. They stopped in front of a pristine thatched cottage with blue dormer windows. Inge opened the car door before Christine had even turned off the engine.
“Thanks for the lift. Johann, could you be a dear and carry my luggage in for me? Christine, just stop here for a minute. You’re useless at parking anyway. I’ll come by the house later. See you then.”
Aunt Inge hurried quickly toward the front door, while Johann made several trips with the luggage. His facial expression was inscrutable.
Christine had met Johann under somewhat difficult circumstances. Last summer, she had been coerced into taking her father with her on vacation to Norderney, one of the Frisian islands farther down Germany’s North Sea coast, where she was helping a friend renovate her guesthouse—the guesthouse where Johann was staying. Christine’s mother was about to have a knee operation and had been adamant that it was a daughter’s job to look after her father in such circumstances. Unfortunately, once they’d arrived on the island, Heinz forgot that Christine was a grown woman, and they had fallen back into their old ways. Christine had managed to hold her tongue at first, but once her father had started to jeopardize the tentatively developing romance between her and Johann—purely based on Heinz’s belief that Johann had “deceitful eyes”—she’d had enough. Heinz, unfortunately, hadn’t. He had been utterly convinced that Johann was a con man and—fired up by his old friend Kalli plus Gisbert, a cuckoo local journalist, not to forget Onno and Carsten—had put all his energy into exposing Johann. It had led to nothing but complications.
Everything had been cleared up in the end, of course, but Christine was worried that Johann’s opinion of her father had been tainted by the Norderney escapade. This two-week vacation at her parents’ place was supposed to convince him that she was from a thoroughly civilized, charming, and, above all, normal family, and that Heinz’s behavior back then had been a one-off. However, Aunt Inge showing up out of the blue like this was not helping her cause in the slightest.
Johann came slowly back down the path, got into the passenger seat, and let out a sigh. Christine put her hand on his knee.
“Aunt Inge is Heinz’s sister. And she’s my godmother too. She’s really fun and spirited and just a really good person.”
“Sure.” He grappled with his seat belt. “A little direct perhaps.”
Christine started the engine. “Shall we go for a drink now, or straight to my parents’ place?”
“Let’s go for a drink first. Please.”
As Christine drove off, she said a quick prayer. Hopefully Aunt Inge had simply decided to spend a few days relaxing on the island, and there was nothing more to it.
Half an hour later, they were sitting on the terrace of Wonnemeyer in Wenningstedt, overlooking the North Sea. Wasn’t the sound of the surf renowned for its calming properties? Christine hoped it would have the desired effect on Johann. He was drinking a wheat beer in silence as she stirred her coffee. Round and round, again and again. In silence. Finally, he looked up.
“At my age, it’s silly to still get nervous because I’m spending two weeks at your parents’ place with you, right?” he asked.
Christine didn’t think it was silly; after all, her father had made Johann’s life hell on Norderney. But she couldn’t admit that to him.
“You know, my father really is very different from how he was when you met him. He just let himself get too worked up and egged on by his nutty friends. That’s all. You’ll see once you get to know him better. He doesn’t normally act as crazily or get carried away by his imagination like that. He’s very laid-back really.” Johann still looked skeptical. But the sea seemed to be calming him, and he was trying to make an effort.
“I guess so. And your Aunt Inge? Is she normally different too?”
“Yes, she’s really lovely. She and Uncle Walter have been married for forty-five years. They have a daughter, Pia, who lives in Berlin and just turned forty. My uncle used to be a tax inspector. He’s a little set in his ways perhaps, but an
old sweetie all the same. Inge actually grew up on Sylt and comes here a few times every year to visit her old friends, so it’s nothing out of the ordinary for her to be here.”
Christine was prattling away in an attempt to calm herself down. In reality, Inge never normally came without Uncle Walter. The image of the blood-soaked sofa popped into her head again, but she forced it away.
“So how come she wants to change her life all of a sudden?” Johann persisted.
“Oh, that was just talk. I’m sure she just meant the fact that she’d gone on vacation by herself. They haven’t done that for years.”
Christine shuddered to think of the fuss her parents, especially Heinz, would make about Aunt Inge showing up without Walter.
“Hmm…” Johann was watching Christine closely. “I’ve definitely heard you tell more convincing lies. But never mind. I survived Heinz in Norderney, so I’m sure I can handle Inge in Sylt…and the rest of your family.” He leaned forward to take her hand in his. “We can go out to dinner with your parents now and then, and with your aunt, too, as far as I’m concerned…but I hope that we’ll get the rest of the time to ourselves.”
“Of course,” Christine answered quickly. “I’m sure Aunt Inge is just here for a few days. And my dad will be spending time with her, so I’m sure we’ll hardly see them. And besides, we have the loft apartment all to ourselves.”
As she looked up at him and squeezed his hand, Christine wondered what on earth Inge had meant when she had said she wanted to change her life.
Heinz shot out of the front door as soon as Christine’s car pulled up in the driveway.
“Christine, the front wheels are on the edge of the lawn. You’re completely destroying it. Go back a bit, will you.”
“Hi, Dad, great to see you, too, and yes, we had a terrific journey and thanks…”
“Yes, yes, but go back a bit first; otherwise, I’ll be looking out at a yellow lawn all summer long.”
Johann cleared his throat, and Christine released the hand brake to roll back. Once she had positioned the car correctly, her father ripped open the passenger door and practically pulled Johann out of the car as he pumped his hand vigorously. “Johann, great to see you! Are you well? You look well. Yes, take a look around you, this is ‘Zoolt,’” he said, overemphasizing the pronunciation of Sylt. “It’s very different from Norderney, but I’m sure you’ll like it. So, come on in. Where did my wife get to? Charlotte, the kids are here!”
