“A perfect little girl,” the midwife said, smiling, and held out the crumpled little creature.
It took only one glance to see the baby was César’s. The child of a murderer, a monster. A child that had already mutilated her body and would go on to crush her spirit, just as César had.
Repelled, she turned her back on the midwife and began to sob as if she would never stop. The doctors attributed it to depression after the difficult birth, the operations, the pain she was suffering and the knowledge that there would be no other children.
But none of that mattered to her. The physical pain was overshadowed by the pain of the knowledge: the child for whose sake she had suffered countless ordeals during her flight, the child for whose sake she had kept going way past her true physical and mental capabilities, was not Elijah’s.
She had been forced to give up her first child because it was Elijah’s. She couldn’t bear to look at this one because it was César’s.
She knew she would have to sacrifice blood of her blood. Because of César’s blood. She knew she could never love the child. Knew she would do the child a grave injustice if she kept her. It was no excuse, it wasn’t honorable, but it was a fact.
“Ma’am, we have to put your baby to the breast,” the sister reprimanded her when she kept refusing to touch the child.
“My milk will poison her. It’s filled with hatred,” Ammie said and believed it.
The result, other than the sister’s shock and incredulity, was an injection. One that mercifully put her to sleep for a very long time. They didn’t bring her the child again but evidently gave her to Fien. She didn’t care where the child was, as long as she didn’t have to see her.
And she didn’t see her again, not even when she was negotiating with Fien and Hans. Just heard the mewling sounds from the room that had formerly been hers.
The child had probably been laughing at her, knowing vengeance would be sweet. By the time Ammie landed in Brussels she had mastitis and was delirious with pain.
Eleven
Friday, September 19
Luc
Ghent
Ghent was a madhouse, as always this time of year. The tourists hadn’t left yet and the students were pouring in, filling up every nook and cranny. Fortunately, Luc had a reserved parking spot. One less misery to contend with.
He washed his hands and rinsed his face in the restroom before he headed for the Commissiezaal. There was a press conference at a quarter to two and the academic procession would start along its planned route at a quarter to three.
He had to push all other matters aside. Focus on today and forget about Ammie, the daughter she had left behind in Africa and the mystery of how she had paid Josefien Colijn to raise her child.
The walk from the Universiteit Forum to the Aula would be a sweaty affair in this unseasonable heat, even though it was only half a kilometer. And the Aula wouldn’t be much cooler.
His father would probably have had a few things to say about the program. A female rector would have been bad enough, but two female professors were acting as speakers. In fact, all the other speakers, except for the Governor of West Flanders, were women.
It didn’t bother him. Women in the academic world were often more proficient, more dedicated and a lot less egotistical than their male counterparts.
He hesitated on the threshold of the room. There was a buzz of voices and the occasional sound of polite laughter. Somewhat reluctantly he joined the throng.
The gathering in the Commissiezaal had nothing to distinguish it from similar occasions in previous years. He had to duck out of the way a few times to avoid the video camera. He had no desire to be on film.
The procession was a jolly affair with roadside kiosks and street musicians, yet it was still ceremonious. Leading it were two scepter bearers in white bibs, followed by the rector, Professor Anne de Paepe, and the highest office bearers. Then came the ordinary professors, followed by the rest of the staff, adhering to a strict academic hierarchy.
Of course there were a few students brandishing banners to protest against the increase in registration fees, but that was part of the tradition. One of the banner-wielding fellows lost his footing on the steps just as Luc walked by, but soon righted himself.
With his finely chiseled features and well-proportioned frame, the youngster was sure to be a hit. Women students tended to go crazy for male students of exotic origin.
In the Aula there was the buzz of muted voices, the sound amplified by printed programs fanning faces. But when Professor De Paepe began to speak, the noise died down.
Though the rector delivered an inspiring message, Luc found his mind wandering back to the young man with the banner and from there to the year he had spent at Stellenbosch. The students there had been so much livelier and bolder—in their body language, the look in their eyes, the sound of their voices. But aggression was swifter and harsher over there. You saw that in their eyes and their body language too, and heard it in their voices.
No, Stellenbosch lay far behind him. Let him focus on the speakers of the moment instead. His fascination with Africa and especially South Africa was hopelessly romanticized anyway.
Caz
Ghent
Caz feared she was losing her mind. It was afternoon and she was still trapped in this place Tieneke called a home. It was a cage, furnished in somber dark-wood furniture, the windows draped with heavy, dark curtains. A cage that smelled of cooking, antiseptics and disease, and felt damp because it lacked fresh air and sunlight.
In Fien’s room on the floor above, the angel of death was waiting with ancient patience while the grandfather clock in the living room ticked audibly toward the final hour.
Caz wanted nothing more than to flee, but she couldn’t leave Tieneke, who had been up all night, trying to relieve Fien’s shortness of breath.
Caz had washed the dishes, done the laundry, ironed, swept and dusted where there was hardly a speck of dust. She had texted Lilah, composed an email that she couldn’t send because she didn’t have an internet connection and didn’t want to bother Tieneke. Made tea. Made coffee. Fixed lunch. Washed dishes again.
She went upstairs. “Tieneke?” she called softly at Fien’s door.
Tieneke came out, closing the door behind her. Her eyes were red, the eyelids swollen.
Caz felt guilty but pressed on. “I have to get out for a while. Is there something I can get you from the corner shop?” It was no good offering to relieve Tieneke. For one thing, she didn’t know what to do and, secondly, Fien would have a fit. In a manner of speaking.
Tieneke rubbed her eyes. “Milk. Butter as well. I’ll just get my purse.”
“I’ve got money. It’s the least I can do. No improvement?” She nodded in the direction of the door.
“Slight.The intervals are getting longer.”
Caz nodded. “I won’t be gone long.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t come back.”
Caz looked at her, surprised.
“Go now.” Tieneke made a shooing motion with her hand. “And you don’t have to hurry back. There’s nothing you can do here.”
Caz didn’t hesitate a moment longer.
The air outside might not be unpolluted, but it was a good deal fresher than the air inside the house.
She walked past the shop. Past the next block of houses. At the bus stop she turned left and walked another street block or two. She had to stretch her legs. Draw air into her lungs.
Back at the bus stop, she saw a man and a woman, each dragging a big suitcase, come to a halt some distance ahead of her. More people who didn’t know how to travel light. It made her feel slightly better about her own inability.
The man pressed the doorbell of the house on the corner. Moments later the door opened and a man in his early thirties came out.
He greeted them
cordially in Flemish, took the woman’s suitcase and motioned them inside.
The door closed.
A guesthouse? There was no sign. It looked like every other house in the row, slotted together like Lego blocks.
Caz sighed and walked on. Even if it was one, she couldn’t afford it, no matter how desperately she wanted to escape from Fien and Tieneke’s aura.
At the shop she bought milk, butter and splashed on a bottle of wine. She wouldn’t even try to work out what five euros were in rands. At this moment it was the medicine she needed, whatever the price. She bought chocolate for Tieneke.
There were no shopping bags. Not even for sale. She walked back with the items she had bought in her hand and the bottle of wine tucked under her arm.
She took a deep breath before inserting the key. For a long moment she stood motionless, looking up into the grayish blue sky.
A movement in the house next door drew her attention. A curtain stirred, as if it had just been drawn. Nosy neighbors, she decided. You find them everywhere.
Tieneke stood in the kitchen, holding a cup of tea.
“Is she better?” Caz opened the fridge and put away her shopping before she turned.
Tieneke’s face seemed carved out of wax. “It’s over.”
“Over?” It took a fraction of a second before she realized what Tieneke meant, but still she could not take it in.
“I’ve just phoned the undertakers. The hearse is on its way.” Tieneke’s shoulders began to shake. Caz reached out to comfort her when she realized that Tieneke wasn’t crying. She was laughing. She threw back her head. “It’s over. Oh, thank heaven, it’s over!” she said.
Caz closed her eyes. She understood Tieneke’s relief. She also understood that the laughter might be hysteria—the result of pent-up tension—rather than happiness. What she didn’t understand was why she had to come all this way just for Fien to scotch her quest for the truth.
How the hell was she going to find out more about her birth mother now? Whether she was still alive? Who and what she is or was? Ammie Pauwels. That was all she knew. Belgium might be a small country but it still had more than eleven million residents.
Good grief, how callous could one get? The woman who had raised her was dead and all she could think of was how it would complicate her life. But she would be lying if she told Tieneke she was sorry for her loss. Or sympathized. Fien was too old and decrepit for anyone to see her demise as anything but a relief. To Fien herself, but especially to Tieneke.
Tieneke’s laughter vanished as suddenly as it had come. “I loved her. In spite of everything. Really. Except for the past five years. It’s been hell.” A sob erupted. “I couldn’t carry on anymore, Cassie, I just couldn’t.” She looked at Caz with tears in her eyes. “I must thank you. You gave me the courage to do it.”
Caz turned ice-cold. She gulped. “Do what, Tieneke?”
Tieneke avoided her gaze. “When I heard the door close behind you, I switched off the oxygen cylinder. Left the room. Shut the door, went outside and sat in the garden. That’s all.”
“And then?” Caz wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but what else could she say?
“When I went back in, she was gone.” Tieneke sighed. “For five years I’ve been wishing she would die. And it took only twenty minutes. So easy. So quick.”
Luc
Ghent
After the official proceedings were over, the guests gathered around tables laden with refreshments and a counter where pints of beer and wine by the glass were available. Luc made his way through the crowd, looking for the exit. This wasn’t his kind of thing. Besides, during the speeches he had thought of a plan to find out more about Cassandra, presumably Colijn.
Someone grabbed his arm. “Had enough?”
He looked down at his colleague Laura Lammens, smiled and nodded before trying to ease out of her grip.
But she held on. “How about a drink at the Graslei? We could discuss the VGK program.”
His instinctive reaction was to refuse. He wanted to get home. But he and Laura would be working together this year and he would have to stand in for her for a few months while she was away on a research trip. They would have to talk sometime.
Anyway, he would have to take care that finding out more about Ammie and her daughter didn’t become an obsession. Especially not at the start of the academic year. He had to focus on the students and his other commitments and decide on a topic for his next academic article.
“Fine. Shall we walk?” Their destination was about four hundred meters from the Aula. He could take a tram back to his car.
Laura nodded and fell into step beside him. She was a rather plain but likeable woman in her forties. They got on well at work but had no social contact, other than the occasional small talk at a compulsory cocktail party or an event of the Vlaamse Geschiedkundige Kring, to which they both belonged. This year they were both serving on the VGK board.
The cafés at the Leie River waterfront were crowded but they managed to find a table at De Witte Leeuw. Boats filled with tourists cruised up and down the river. Students laughed and chattered. Visitors took photos.
Luc felt stuffy in his suit. He loosened his tie and was on the point of pulling it over his head when he remembered he was in female company.
“Do you mind?” he asked.
Laura laughed. “Of course not. Remove your jacket as well, if you wish. The weather is so lovely.”
Gratefully he complied, and rolled up his sleeves. There, now he could think again.
While they were waiting for the kriek beers they had ordered, they talked about Anne de Paepe’s speech. When the cherry-red drinks arrived, they spoke about the student representative who had stood her ground in front of the formidable audience.
“In my day I wouldn’t have dared,” laughed Laura. “I was much too reserved.”
“Yet now you face hundreds of students every day.”
“That’s different. I don’t have to impress anyone, just share my knowledge, give guidance and hand out assignments. They’re children, compared to me. The student representative had to address her superiors.”
It was not what could be considered a riveting conversation, yet the companionship was pleasant. At least it got his mind off the mystery surrounding Ammie, which was exhausting as well as frustrating. “Another one?” he asked as she drained her glass.
She smiled. “Don’t mind if I do.” Was it his imagination or were her cheeks a little flushed?
Caz
Ghent
“There’s nothing you can do here, Cassie. You’ll just be under everyone’s feet,” Tieneke said when the hearse stopped in front of the house. “Take a bus and explore the city. It’s such fine weather. It will take your mind off things.”
Relief washed over Caz. “Are you sure?”
Tieneke nodded. “I’ve been handling Mother’s affairs for years. I’ll handle this last one as well.” For a change, there was no reproach in her voice.
“Where would you suggest I go?” asked Caz as the doorbell rang.
“Ask the bus driver to drop you at the Korenmarkt stop. From there you can walk in almost any direction. There are beautiful old buildings all around, and hundreds of street cafés. The most popular ones are at the Graslei. Have something to eat. I’m not cooking tonight.”
Caz didn’t have a clue what a “lei” was, let alone one made of grass, but anything seemed like a good option if it meant she could get away for a while. She hurried upstairs. When she came back down with her handbag over her shoulder, she heard voices coming from Fien’s bedroom.
She was through the door before Tieneke could change her mind. She knew there was a bus every ten minutes. Two people were waiting at the stop. She recognized them as the couple she had seen earlier, entering the house on the corner.
“. . . and the ba
throom is lovely. And clean! We were really lucky,” she heard the woman say.
“I told you sharing the facilities wouldn’t be so bad.” The man smiled. “Not at that price.”
“Excuse me for interrupting, but that place where you’re staying, is it a guesthouse?” Caz asked in English.
The woman gave her a friendly glance. “No, not quite. My husband found a website where you can find lodgings at a reasonable price because you’re staying in your landlady’s home and don’t have a private bathroom. Air B&B. Less than thirty euros per night, and we have a large roof terrace as well.
The arrival of the bus put a stop to the conversation.
“Thanks for the information,” Caz managed to say before they got on. She fumbled in her wallet to find the two euros she needed. The bus pulled away while she was still zipping up her handbag and she sank down in the first available seat.
Hardly an hour had elapsed since Fien died and she was playing at being a tourist. The thought made Caz morbid. How was it possible that Fien’s death had so little effect on her? It seemed unreal. Yes, for decades she had borne a grudge against the woman who had raised her, but that wasn’t all. Fien’s death left no gap in her life whatsoever. Except for the missed opportunity to find out more about Ammie Pauwels.
She wondered how Tieneke felt. How she would feel when reality struck home. Not only about Fien’s demise but about the fact that Tieneke had helped her cross over.
Strictly speaking, it was probably not murder. Caz would have been surprised if Fien had lived another week. But it wasn’t euthanasia either. Tieneke had done what she had done, not to release Fien from further suffering, but for her own sake. Tieneke had always been impatient, keen to finish what had to be done. But expedite her own mother’s death?
Speeding up her death was the least of it. Caz couldn’t believe that Tieneke had simply closed the door and gone outside. Left Fien to battle the angel of death on her own. Made her go through the valley of the shadow of death alone. Or whichever cliché could be dredged up to say she had left her mother to her own fate. Okay, Mother, die now and do it on your own. No last words of comfort, no last whispers of love, no final squeeze of a hand. Just a closed door, you, and death. All alone and deliberately orchestrated.
Sacrificed Page 12
