by Dora Heldt
Walter spluttered. “But, Inge, what am I supposed to tell her? You come back from the spa acting all strange, wearing these colorful new things, cooking weird sprout dishes, and spending the whole time on the phone with this Renate woman who speaks to me as if I’ve taken leave of my senses.”
“When did you speak to Renate?”
“When I answered the phone. Then she said in this funereal tone, ‘Renate here, Inge please.’ That’s no way to talk to people.”
Typical Walter. Getting worked up about the smallest of details again.
“So, Walter, what did you want?”
“Sorry?”
“You called me.”
“Oh…Yes…What did I want? I wanted to know when you’re coming home. It’s…Well, it’s boring here without you.”
Surprised, Inge said, “Walter Müller, that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me in years.”
“Nonsense. What am I supposed to say? I’m not exactly well versed in, what do you call them?…Sweet nothings.”
“Well, you should give some thought to that.” Inge stood up and took a few steps forward. “I told you that I wanted to make some changes. Our life can’t carry on the way it is, or we’ll end up dying of boredom.”
“But, Inge! It’s not that bad…”
“Yes, Walter, it is. Listen, I’m hanging up now. I’m standing in the middle of the street, and I’m not in the mood to debate this with you for hours on end.”
“But you’re coming…I mean, you’re not going to do anything silly, are you?”
“What do you mean by silly? The most important thing is that I’m doing something. We’ll talk about it later. When things are a little clearer. But for now, take care and look after yourself. Speak soon.”
“Inge?”
“Yes?”
“Are you hiding something from me?”
Inge’s thoughts were spinning. She hated lying, but she didn’t need this right now. “Let’s put it like this. I’m a little ahead of you in the information stakes. I’ll tell you everything when the time is right. I can’t say any more than that. I’m sorry.”
She heard a long sigh at the other end of the line. Then another. Then silence.
“Walter?”
“I’ve got this pain. In my stomach. Just above it.”
“You don’t have a pain in your stomach. And you’re not about to have a heart attack. Your tests were all fine. Give me some space for a few days, then we’ll see. We’ll speak on the phone. And make sure you eat properly, not just currywurst all the time. I have to go now. ’Bye then.”
Before he had time to answer, Inge pressed the red button and plunged her phone into the depths of her handbag.
Chapter 13
* * *
Christine parked the car in front of the local camping site. Johann looked around.
“What are we doing here? Oh no! You’re not suggesting we camp for the rest of the vacation are you? I mean, your family isn’t that bad, Christine. Give them a chance. Besides, I hate sleeping on air mattresses, and…” He hesitated. “I’m afraid of insects crawling on me.”
Christine had already climbed out and taken her jacket from the backseat. “Come on. We’re going for a walk over the Red Cliff and along the dunes. Then you can treat me to dinner at Sturmhaube, and we’ll gaze out at the sunset and have a really romantic evening.”
A few minutes later, they were strolling along the path to the dunes. Johann gazed at the scenery and then looked at Christine.
“It’s quiet here, and, granted, we’re away from your family, but you can’t see the ocean.”
“But the dunes are so amazing, look at them! And they’re all so different.”
“To be honest, I find them a little boring.”
Christine looked around. “You have no idea. Most of the dramas, secrets, and murders on this island are all linked to this place. It’s living history. And look, over there, that’ll bring us out to the water.”
They crossed the last dune and suddenly saw the sea stretch out before them. Johann stopped and drew Christine closer.
They made their way to a bench at the top of the cliff. The evening sun shone, bathing the scene in golden red hues. Johann was silent, seemingly fascinated by the play of light. Eventually, he cleared his throat.
“Hey, we talked a few weeks ago about how much longer we wanted to carry on with all this to-ing and fro-ing. Have you had any more thoughts?”
“What to-ing and fro-ing?” Christine tried to keep her expression neutral.
“Oh, come on, this traveling back and forth between Hamburg and Bremen. We’ve been doing it for almost a year now, and…”
“Nine months,” she corrected him softly, but his reaction was curt.
“Christine, my God, you always evade the issue. Why? It doesn’t matter if it’s nine months or twelve months. This weekend relationship thing is getting on my nerves. I want to be able to do things with you during the week sometimes too. Are you really that attached to your apartment? To Hamburg? To living alone? To your job? Or is it that you just don’t want to commit?”
Her job! Christine felt her stomach instantly tighten. She’d been working for the publishing company for sixteen years, as their traveling rep at first, and then in-house, as an editor for one of their imprints. The whole company had been taken over by another firm the year before. She had always liked working there, at least until the new magic word had come into play last year: restructuring. Since then, everything had changed. Two of her colleagues had handed in their notice, her own responsibilities had been completely switched, and her new boss was a thirty-four-year-old management expert who didn’t have a clue about books and who wanted to upset everything. He thought in business terms. It was all about innovation. And he was an idiot. Christine tried not to think about him. By the time she had gone to Norderney last summer, the transformation had already begun. For a few days, she had seriously thought about chucking her whole career and going to work with Marleen. She could have easily spent her days working in Marleen’s guesthouse; there were certainly worse places to be in the world. But she had quickly scrapped the idea. And then Johann had come into her life, which had put some fun back into her days and had distracted her from all the work-related stress.
“Christine?”
She jumped and tore her gaze away from the cliff. “Sorry. I was thinking. What did you say?”
Johann looked at her, clearly annoyed, and sighed. “It’s fine. We can drop the subject for now. Maybe I’m just being pushy. So, shall we keep walking? I’m starting to get hungry.”
He stood up and stood above her, blocking the sun for a moment. Christine could have kicked herself. Somehow she never missed an opportunity to complicate things.
“Sorry, start again from the beginning. I’m listening now. For some reason I’m just a bit out of sorts at the moment,” Christine explained.
“I can tell.”
She stood up and pushed her arm through his, feeling relieved when he didn’t pull away.
Inge twisted around, trying to look at herself from behind in the huge mirror.
“I’m just not sure…”
The sales assistant tilted her head to one side. “No, it looks great on you.” She nodded energetically. “It really suits you. In fact, it was made for you. The skirt falls nicely, and the length is so flattering…you really do have very lovely legs, and it sits perfectly around your waist. I mean, I couldn’t sell this dress to any other customer now.”
Inge took in the compliments with pleasure, but she quickly became serious again.
“It’s lilac though. I’ve never had a lilac dress before. People always say it’s for old women.” She didn’t even want to think about the price.
“Mauve,” corrected the sales assistant. “It’s mauve, a very on-trend color.”
She might call it mauve, but to Inge it was lilac. Discreetly, she tried to make out the price tag, but it was impossible without her reading glasses.
“Frau Andresen?”
“I’ll be right there. As I said. Mauve.” The sales assistant took a scarf from a cabinet and threw it around Inge. Then she took a step back and nodded contentedly. “That’s the cherry on the cake. It—”
“Frau Andresen!”
“Yes, I’m coming! See how the dress works with the scarf? And please excuse me for a moment, I’ll be right back.”
Her heels clicked across the shop.
Inge turned back to her reflection in the mirror. The scarf was made from a fine silvery mesh material, and it looked very elegant. But lilac? Even lilac masquerading as mauve?
Did Frau Andresen really like it, or did she just want to nail the sale? Speaking of which, Inge used the opportunity to pluck her glasses out of her purse. She looked at the price tag and took a deep breath. Four hundred twenty-nine euros. Walter would have a heart attack. On the other hand, he had bought himself a new computer a couple of months ago. Allegedly, he wanted to use the Internet for keeping an eye on stocks and shares. But in reality he just used it to look at the sports news and play solitaire now and then. Making up her mind, Inge took her glasses off and put them in their case. Just at that moment, her phone rang. Two customers turned around to look at her, so Inge quickly went back toward the changing rooms to take the call.
“Yes?” she whispered, a little embarrassed.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“Inge Müller.” She was still whispering.
“Inge? This is Renate. I can barely hear you.”
“Renate!” She spoke so loudly that Frau Andresen turned around, startled. Inge raised her hand apologetically, went into the cubicle, and pulled the curtain behind her.
“Renate, you won’t believe this, but I’m in a fancy boutique in Westerland, I’m wearing a lilac dress, and I don’t know whether to buy it or not. The sales girl is very enthusiastic about it.”
“Of course she is, that’s her job. Lilac is an old woman’s color though, you know that.” Renate’s voice was gratingly loud. “But there’s a new color now. Mauve. My sister gave me a blouse in mauve. It’s terribly chic. Ask for it, I’m sure it will suit you. But anyway, the reason I’m calling…guess where I am.”
“No idea. Where?”
“The Ulenhof Hotel.”
Inge sank down onto the little velvet stool. “In Wenningstedt? Really?”
A deep laugh resounded out of her phone. “Exactly. You’re surprised, aren’t you? I said to myself, why not? I’ll have a few days on the island and look after my friend Inge. After all, we don’t want your family to turn you back into some little Dortmund housewife now, do we? Isn’t this great?”
“Yes.” Inge stood up carefully, taking care not to crumple the dress. “What a surprise! And a good one,” she hastened to add. “I just can’t believe it. There’s just one problem…Oh, never mind. I’ll tell you later. Right. I’ll come over to you now. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes if I take a taxi. See you soon.”
Walking over to the desk with the dress over her arm, she pictured the next few days in Renate’s company. They were sure to be exciting. She smiled at Frau Andresen.
“And the color’s really mauve, you said?”
Chapter 14
* * *
Without opening her eyes, Christine tried to figure out where the noise was coming from. In her dream, she had sat on a dock watching as Uncle Walter and Aunt Inge blew up a huge inflatable duck. Uncle Walter was pumping at the foot pump like crazy, while Aunt Inge just kept letting the air back out of the beak again. Pffpffpffpfft…
The alarm clock on the bedside table glowed five thirty a.m. Johann lay next to her on his back, his mouth open just slightly. Pffpfft. So that explained the duck.
Carefully, in order not to wake him, Christine sat up and softly stroked his cheek. He turned onto his side, and the snoring disappeared at once. But she was awake now. And her back hurt. There was a time when she could sleep anywhere, but for the last few years now she always ended up with a backache if she slept in a different bed. Hers was the only one that didn’t cause it. Even at Johann’s place she started the day feeling like an old woman, taking her first few steps hunched over. Maybe that was a sign that you should just stay at home once you hit your midforties.
Christine lay back down again. Her eyes open, she stared up at the ceiling and thought about the conversation they had had in the restaurant, which left her no chance of getting back to sleep now. Johann turned onto his back and started breathing loudly. Then the noise started again, softly at first—pffpffpfft—then louder. She had never heard him snore this much before, but it seemed he did. After all, they didn’t sleep in the same bed every night, and she normally slept very soundly on the precious nights they did spend together, once the lights went out, that is. Perhaps he would snore all the time if they lived together, every night, just a little at first, then more and more, and after a while she would start to hate it and then…
She stood up decisively and pulled her jeans and sweater on, quietly so as not to wake him. If she stayed in bed, one irrational thought would come after the other. Instead, she decided to make some tea, sit in the backyard, and wait for the sunrise. It couldn’t be far off now.
The house was silent as Christine softly closed the door behind her, a cup of tea in her hand. The first birdsong was just starting, and the sky already looked brighter. She sat down on the chair in front of the garden shed and put both hands around the steaming cup of tea.
Johann hadn’t spoken much on the rest of their walk the night before. They had walked past the Uwe dune, and Johann was adamant about going to the viewing platform. So they had climbed their way up what felt like fifty thousand steps, still in silence, to stare out over Kampen for ten minutes. Christine had pointed out one of her favorite houses to him; Johann appeared impressed, taking her hand in his, yet both of them seemed to be making a concerted effort to focus on the outside world—the cliffs, the dunes, the old ghost stories Christine had told him.
Once they had arrived at the restaurant, they had settled down at a table outside on the terrace and asked for a bottle of white wine, some mineral water, and the menu. That had given her some respite; she had felt she must continue talking to keep Johann from bringing up intimate topics. But once the drinks had arrived and the food was ordered, Johann leaned back and started to talk—and not about the local history of Sylt.
“I’d like you to tell me what’s bothering you at the moment. And don’t say it’s about your aunt Inge or your father. What’s really going on?”
Christine had already told Johann many times about the problems at the publishing house. After all, they saw each other every weekend and spoke on the phone almost every day. The problem was that Johann was a management expert, too, just like her boss, and he was also currently in the process of restructuring a company. He always ended up offering advice and recounting all the arguments that she already had to listen to from her own boss. All she really wanted was a little empathy and a chance to reminisce about the way things used to be. But despite knowing what he would say, she still began to describe the current atmosphere at work, complaining about the changes, her overbearing boss, and his restructuring. After a ten-minute monologue, she finally had a large gulp of wine.
“The publishing house wouldn’t have been able to survive the way it was,” said Johann, crumbling his bread to pieces as he spoke. Christine waited for him to use the same catchphrases that her arch nemesis was currently so fond of. “Especially at a time when the e-books are becoming ever more important, when there is so much competition for market share among entertainment companies, and when we’re in the midst of a recession too.”
Bingo. She couldn’t listen to it anymore. “That may well be, but it’s no fun working with people who have no idea about books, nor of how to treat colleagues.”
“Then do something else.”
“Great idea, Johann. Sure, I’m forty-six years old—the world is my oyster. And look at a
ll my skills. Selling books, reading books, sending books, ordering books. What an amazing skill set. Companies will be falling over themselves to get to me.”
“Don’t be so sarcastic. You haven’t even looked for another job. You can’t say you won’t find anything if you haven’t even looked.”
“I don’t want to leave Hamburg.”
“Aha.” She heard the edge in his voice, but didn’t comment. “And why not?”
“Because I don’t want to live anywhere else.”
Johann rested his chin in his hands and looked at her thoughtfully. “And yet you once told me that you nearly asked Marleen if you could go into business with her in her restaurant in Norderney. And when we were on Norderney with my aunt over New Year’s, and she mentioned that the Seesteg was looking for a head housekeeper, you told her you had lots of experience from working in your grandmother’s guesthouse on Sylt and from Marleen’s bar, and that you were seriously considering applying.”
Christine remembered that she had been very excited about the potential collaboration, and that she would have applied for the job on the spot, had it not been for…
For what?
Johann seemed to read her thoughts. “Why didn’t you do it?”
She answered more quickly than she meant to. “It was because of you. I would have had to work at the weekends, and we wouldn’t have seen each other very much…”
Their food arrived, giving Christine time to think about what she had just said. Sure, Johann had been one reason, but there were plenty of others too. She hated the idea of moving, of a new environment, new colleagues, new routines. She really was a total wimp.
Johann had begun to deftly fillet his fish. “You hate change, don’t you?”
“Most of the time, yes.”
“And that’s why you always put off the decision of what we should do about our long-distance relationship, right?”
“That’s not true. It’s just that it’s difficult to plan at the moment, with my job and everything. I just have to wait a bit, see how things go. And where would we live together anyway? I wouldn’t be able to find a job in Bremen.”
