Sisters of Berlin

by Juliet Conlin

  So, the reason I’m writing: Hi, how are you doing? How is the writing going? Finally tackling that novel – I admire you, I really do. I hope it works out.

  No. That’s not really why I’m writing (as you’ve probably guessed). I miss you, Marie. And I know we’re still friends and all that, and I know you’ll say that we can always meet up, or speak on the phone, but if I’m honest, that’s not enough. You’ve left a void inside me. And it can’t be filled with a coffee date or a late-night phone call.

  I know I said I was all right about the break, and part of me is. Part of me knows, rationally (I guess that would be the scientist-me), that it’s better like this, that we want different things and that – like you said – we’d only end up an unhappy couple, rather than happy friends. But another part of me (the human part) thinks this is bullshit. We made a pretty good (happy) couple for over two years, and just because we hit a few bumps recently doesn’t mean we can’t make it work. Or at least give it a proper try, which (I now realise) we didn’t. We never even tried. We took the easy way out (or perhaps it was you who took the easy way out). You said you felt like you were trapped on a hamster wheel, but if you’re honest, that has more to do with not having any structure to your life, rather than too much. Sounds patronising, I know. I don’t mean it like that.

  Come to Leipzig. It’s full of energy and light. Berlin is sucking the life out of you.

  So. My thoughts and feelings in proper order. (And far too many parentheses.)

  Love you still, love you always

  Robert

  It takes her a moment to realise she is crying. She wipes her face with the duvet cover. Then she shivers, as if the void in Robert’s letter is inside her too, and she pulls the heavy duvet over her head. Within minutes, still shivery and tearful, she escapes into sleep.

  *

  It is past four and starting to get dark when Nina wakes up. She showers, pulls on her tracksuit bottoms and a jumper and goes downstairs to the study. She doesn’t bother switching the light on. The computer is on standby; Sebastian must have forgotten to shut it down last night. She logs on to her email account. There are five new emails; two spams, one from Anita with the updated appointment schedule, a reminder from the accountant regarding the insurance form, and one from Sara. The subject line says: “Long time no hear”. Nina clicks this one open.

  “Dearest Nina,” it reads, “haven’t heard from you for so long. Getting worried. I am so gutted to hear about Marie. It’s hard to know what to say, but I hope you are bearing up. I’m off to NY for three months in mid-November, so I want to see you before I go. Saturday, same place, same time. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll come and get you myself. Please call and save me the trouble. Love and kisses, S.”

  Nina sighs and hits ‘reply’. She writes: “Dear Sara, sorry, I’ve been busy and sad. No need to come round. I’ll see you on Saturday. Love, Nina.”

  She hears, or feels, a movement behind her. She turns and sees Sebastian standing in the doorway.

  ‘Shit, Basti, you frightened me,’ she says.

  He flicks the light switch on. The sudden brightness is painful.

  ‘Kai’s school phoned me,’ he says coldly. ‘They’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon.’

  Nina lurches up out of the chair. Her heart skips out of rhythm again.

  ‘He’s here now. I brought him home. You forgot to pick him up from school.’ He hits the door frame, hard, with his palm. ‘Jesus Christ, Nina! What the hell is the matter with you?’

  The sound makes her flinch. She lifts her hands to her head. It’s Wednesday today, of course. ‘I’m – I’m sorry, Basti,’ she says. ‘I didn’t go into work today, I wasn’t feeling well. I must have got my days mixed up.’

  ‘Don’t say sorry to me. Go and apologise to your son. He was in a right state when I got there.’

  He turns and goes into the hall. Nina follows him.

  ‘Where is he?’ she asks.

  ‘In his room. I bought him an ice cream on the way home. I’ve managed to calm him down now.’

  She goes upstairs. Kai is doing a puzzle on the floor of his room. She sits down beside him and kisses him on the head.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, trying not to burst into tears, trying not to smother him in her own guilt.

  Kai looks up at her, and then turns back to his puzzle. ‘You forgot me,’ he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

  ‘No, my love, I didn’t forget you,’ she says in a thin voice. ‘I wasn’t feeling well, so I went to bed and then I fell asleep. I’m so sorry, Kai.’

  He slots two pieces together. ‘It’s okay, Mama,’ he says chirpily. ‘Papa bought me ice cream.’

  ‘That’s nice.’ For a while, Nina sits and watches him. When she is sure he’s okay, that he has no interest in reproaching her, she gets up, kisses the top of his head and goes back downstairs. Sebastian is in the kitchen at the fridge.

  ‘You haven’t been shopping,’ he says.

  ‘I told you, I wasn’t feeling well,’ she says. ‘I had to reschedule today’s patients.’

  He swings the fridge door shut. He doesn’t look at her. ‘In that case, I’ll take the kids out for a Chinese when Bekka gets home. You can join us, if you feel up to it, or you can stay here. Up to you.’

  Nina wants to ask him why he’s being so mean to her, so cold, but her guilt over forgetting Kai still lingers. She’s lost her claim to any moral high ground. So instead, she says, ‘I think I’ll stay in, have an early night. And –’ She turns her head and adds, ‘It’s probably best if I sleep in the spare room tonight. In case it’s anything catching.’

  Sebastian brushes past her on his way out of the kitchen. ‘You do that.’

  They don’t exchange another word until he leaves the house with Bekka and Kai.

  16

  Nina is in a hurry. Her car won’t start and Sebastian has already left to take the children to visit her parents. She lets herself back into the house to get her gloves. The sun is out, and warm on her skin, but she feels a chill that seems to come from deep inside. She’s wearing thick tights under her jeans, and a vest and T-shirt under her woolly red jumper. The wool makes her arms itch, but the jumper gives her frame a little bulk.

  She fetches her gloves and has her hand on the door handle when the phone rings. She hesitates, but then decides to take the call. It’s her mother.

  ‘They’re on their way,’ Nina says impatiently. ‘They should be there any moment.’

  ‘Did Bekka bring her dress?’ Antonia asks.

  ‘What dress?’ Nina checks the time. It is ten to eleven; she’s meeting Sara at eleven and now she’ll be at least twenty minutes late.

  ‘For the dinner party,’ her mother says. ‘I told Bekka I’d like to see the dress.’

  Nina hates being late. She sighs. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Antonia doesn’t answer straight away, and Nina can sense the disapproving shake of her head.

  ‘I asked Bekka if she’d like to help Hannah at the dinner party,’ her mother says in a measured voice. ‘I promised her fifty euros. But I wanted to make sure she wears something suitable, something to match Hannah’s uniform. Bekka said she has a black dress, and I asked her to bring it around so I could see it. So I’m asking you, did Bekka remember to take the dress with her?’

  ‘Mama, I’m meeting a friend, and I’m already late.’ Nina doesn’t mention the car not starting. ‘I don’t really know what you’re talking about, but if it isn’t an emergency, I’d appreciate it if we could discuss this later.’

  ‘Pardon me for taking up your valuable time, Nina. I had hoped you would understand how important this occasion is.’

  ‘What occasion, Mama?’

  ‘On the ninth. Your father and I are hosting a dinner for the Secretary of State. We talked about this. I was sending out official invitations and asked if you and Sebastian wanted one.’ She pauses. ‘Why are you being so difficult?’

  ‘The ninth of Nov
ember?’

  ‘Unless I and the rest of the country have got our historical dates wrong, then, yes, the ninth of November.’

  Nina squeezes the bridge of her nose with a finger and thumb. Another headache is edging its way in. ‘You didn’t tell me anything about this, Mama,’ she says wearily.

  ‘Of course I did. Don’t be so silly.’

  ‘Don’t talk to me like that,’ she snaps. Then, in a calmer tone, ‘It was probably Sebastian you told.’

  ‘No,’ Antonia says, ‘I know I spoke to you. But –’

  Nina really has to get going now. The only way out of this tangle is to placate her, tell her what she wants to hear. ‘All right, Mama. I probably forgot. I’ve got a lot on my mind. But I don’t know if Bekka took the dress with her, sorry. If she hasn’t, I can bring it around later, okay?’

  ‘Nina?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Her tone is softer.

  ‘Yes, Mama. Everything’s fine. I’m just in a hurry. I didn’t mean – I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all,’ Nina says again.

  ‘Did Kommissar Franzen speak with you?’

  ‘Yes. He called yesterday. Fraunhofer isn’t the father.’

  ‘I know. He spoke to your father last night. But they’re still viewing him as a suspect.’ Her voice is so low, Nina can barely hear her.

  ‘I’ll be in touch, Mama,’ she says. ‘Have fun with the children.’

  ‘I always do,’ her mother replies. ‘Goodbye.’

  Nina puts the phone down and walks slowly into the hall. She opens her handbag and takes out her mobile, sends Sara a message letting her know she’s running late, and heads out of the door.

  Sitting in the U-Bahn, she avoids eye contact with the other underground passengers and focuses on the upcoming meeting with Sara. She’s genuinely looking forward to seeing her, but it will be the first time in ages since she’s eaten in front of someone else. Apart from Sebastian and the children, that is, and she’s developed methods for that – putting her fork down between bites; spreading the food over her plate so it appears she’s eaten more than she actually has; claiming she’s eaten a big lunch. Sebastian always has an enormous appetite and concentrates on his own food at mealtimes. And the children wouldn’t have noticed anything, either. But today, she will have to watch exactly what lands on her plate. Sara is no fool.

  The train slows, brakes screeching, and pulls into a station. Blissestraße. Three stops to go. Fruit is okay; they’re bound to have a fruit salad at the buffet. A slice of crispbread would be good, then she could crumble most of it over her plate. She feels an unfamiliar spike of energy. She’s almost looking forward to the challenge.

  At Eisenacher Straße, Nina gets off the train and hurries to the café. It’s quarter to twelve by the time she arrives. A bell above the door tinkles as she enters. The smell of old books, dusty radiators and freshly roasted coffee blends into a musty and slightly bitter scent. It is oddly inviting, the sort of place you could comfortably spend hours in without noticing the time passing. This morning, the café is so crowded it takes a few moments before Nina spots Sara, sitting on a brown corduroy sofa at the back wall. Sara raises both arms and waves. She is, as always, impeccably dressed. Even from across the room, Nina can tell that her outfit – the charcoal-hued scarf draped casually around her shoulders, the slim silver bangles on her wrist, the dusky pink blouse that suits her complexion perfectly – probably cost more than Nina took in from patients last month.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says when she gets to the table.

  ‘No problem. I was glad to get your message. I overslept and only got here ten minutes ago.’ Sara laughs. ‘I’ve already ordered a coffee, but I wanted to wait for you before I start pigging out. I’ve had a quick peek –’ She nods her head in the direction of the buffet, which is spread out on three long wooden tables beneath a set of arched windows. ‘It looks great.’

  Nina forces a smile.

  ‘Oh, god, I’m sorry,’ Sara says suddenly. ‘God, Nina, I’m so sorry about Marie. I – I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Please don’t worry,’ Nina says quietly. ‘I’d rather not talk about it, anyway.’

  Sara lays a hand on hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. Then she raises her arm to attract the waitress’s attention, making her bangles tinkle brightly. ‘What’ll you have?’ she asks Nina.

  ‘A black tea with lemon.’

  She places Nina’s order and turns back to face her. ‘If you don’t want to talk about it now, that’s fine,’ she says affectionately. ‘But anytime – I mean anytime – you feel like talking, you know where I am.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  But then Sara pulls the corners of her mouth down. ‘Except for the next three months. Unless you want to call me in New York. Which you’re welcome to, of course.’

  Nina laughs softly. ‘Propping up global finances?’ she asks.

  Sara raises her hands. ‘Let’s not even go there,’ she says with a tone of mock horror. ‘Corporate management consultant or not, I’ll be glad to still be in a job this time next year. Speaking of which, how’s the practice coming along?’

  ‘Slowly. I’m not quite in the black, yet. It’s –’ Nina swallows and looks away.

  ‘Okay, next topic,’ Sara says. ‘The kids. How are they? Kai started school this term, didn’t he? And Rebekka, how are those teenage mood swings?’ She gives Nina a wide smile, which turns into a frown almost instantaneously. ‘Shit, I keep putting my foot in it. They must be devastated. Oh, Nina, it all comes back to Marie, doesn’t it? How on earth are you coping?’

  ‘Not very well, to be honest.’

  The waitress brings the tea. Nina takes a sip and scalds her tongue. She puts the cup back down too quickly, so that the tea sloshes onto the saucer.

  ‘I went to her flat the other day,’ she continues, ‘to sort through her stuff. And it was unbearable.’ She looks up at Sara and has to blink to clear her vision. ‘Her life was so – unfinished. And I can’t get rid of this urge to finish it for her. Does that make any sense?’

  Sara pulls her forehead into a frown and stares down at her coffee. There is something – pain? grief? – behind her eyes, too. ‘I remember having to empty my parents’ house when they died. It was so unbelievably painful. It took me weeks and weeks to throw anything away.’ She lets out a strained laugh. ‘Even the actual rubbish bags.’ She reaches out and lifts Nina’s chin gently with her hand. ‘Listen, let me come and help you. Before I go to New York. You can’t do this on your own. We’ll go there together and get it over with. Okay?’

  Nina nods and wipes her eyes. She opens her mouth to tell Sara how grateful she is, but nothing comes out. The air in the café is dry and stuffy with the heat of dozens of bodies.

  ‘And how are things with Sebastian?’ Sara asks. ‘Is he, like, there for you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replies, a little too quickly. ‘He’s, he’s . . . been great. He’s – well, you know.’ She feels Sara’s gaze on her, intense, making her want to squirm.

  Sara lays a hand on hers and squeezes. ‘I’m here, okay? Anytime you need to talk.’ Then she pushes herself up. ‘Now, come on, let’s go and get something to eat. Before you make me put this waterproof mascara to the test.’

  Nina follows her meekly to the buffet. Even from a distance, she can tell that there is very, very little here that is safe to eat. The sight of so much food is overwhelming, and it takes Nina a while before she can pick up a spoon and scoop some fresh berries into a bowl.

  When she gets back to the table, Sara has already eaten half of what was on her plate. She looks at Nina, and then at her bowl.

  ‘Not much of an appetite?’ she asks.

  Nina shakes her head and sits down.

  ‘Never mind,’ Sara says. ‘But it’s important to keep up your strength. Especially when you’re feeling low. And, god, look at this tiramisu. I’ve heard it’s delicious. You have to try it.’

  ‘I’
ll eat later,’ Nina says firmly. ‘With Sebastian and the kids.’

  She lifts a spoonful of berries to her mouth and catches sight of a couple, sitting three tables away. She immediately recognises the man as Franzen, and the woman he’s with is unmistakeably, irresistibly attractive – petite, with dark bobbed hair and perfect, soft brown skin. They sit close together, and the woman must have said something funny, because Franzen laughs. Nina has never seen him laugh like that before. She doesn’t look away quickly enough and he catches her eye. He looks at her kindly, smiles, and raises his glass in Nina’s direction. She smiles back, nervously, and reaches out to lift her teacup, so she can return the toast. But her hand collides with the cup and she knocks it over. Sara jumps out of the way before the tea can drip onto her lap.

  ‘You okay?’ she asks, mopping up the tea with her napkin.

  ‘Sorry,’ Nina says. ‘I’m all thumbs, lately.’ She looks back at Franzen, but he is by now in deep conversation with the woman and doesn’t look over again.

  Nina exhales sharply. ‘You know what?’ she tells Sara, ‘I’ve changed my mind. Sebastian and the kids can get a takeaway later.’

  Sara gives her a quizzical look, but Nina mumbles something about the food here being too good to waste. She gets to her feet before she can change her mind and tries not to hurry to the buffet. Grabbing the largest plate on offer, she piles on as much food as will fit. She daren’t peer over to Franzen’s table, but the thought that he might be watching her makes her heart race. She doesn’t want to question why seeing him makes her feel like this. All she knows is that something has burst inside, something so aching and immense it can only be staunched by stuffing food into herself.

  Her plate is heaped with food; she balances it on the edge of the buffet table and takes a glass bowl, fills this to the brim with tiramisu. With both hands full, she returns to Sara.

  ‘Wow,’ Sara says as Nina sits down.