one. He lit two cigarettes, and handed her one. Then he produced a can of beer from his shoulder bag, and opened it.
He took several large swigs himself before passing it to her. She drank, and thought that the schnapps had tasted much better. Beer simply couldn’t make you feel warm inside. Strong spirits and wine were much better, she’d always thought that. And they didn’t make you want to pee so much either.
They sat there in silence for a few more minutes, then he said:
‘I have an idea.’
She reminded herself yet again that this was exactly what he had said a few hours ago. Down on the beach. She thought it was strange that he’d been carrying this idea around for such a long time without telling her what it was.
Mind you, this might be another one now.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘Let’s talk to him,’ he said.
She didn’t understand what he meant.
‘Right now,’ he said. ‘You can give him a call and we can have a chat with him. And then we’ll see.’
He emptied the can of beer and opened a new one.
‘How many have you got?’ she asked.
‘Just one more. Well?’
She thought for a moment. She badly needed a pee. Really badly.
‘How?’ she said.
‘There’s a phone box over there.’
He pointed in the direction of the fire station.
‘Well?’
She nodded.
‘Okay. I must just have a pee first.’
The viaduct? she thought as she stood in the cramped phone box and dialled the number. Why do we have to meet him up there at the railway viaduct?
She got no further with that train of thought as she could hear the telephone ringing at the other end of the line, then somebody picked up the receiver. She took a deep breath, and tried to make her voice steady.
I hope it’s not his wife who’s answered, she thought.
It was his wife.
14
Sigrid Lijphart managed to get a room at Kongershuus, thanks to a cancellation — the phone call came while she was still in reception, wondering what to do. It was the holiday season, and vacancies in Lejnice and district were just as hard to come by as usual. In a brief moment of weakness she had played with the idea of turning to somebody she had known back in those days — in her former life, sixteen years ago and more — but she rapidly decided that doing so would be about as pleasant as a foul-tasting belch.
Mind you, there were quite a lot of possibilities for her to choose from. Quite a lot of people who would no doubt have received her with open arms. In order to demonstrate how much they sympathized with the problems she’d had, and to find out a bit more about the details, if for no other reason.
But that was all in the past. She had left those people and those relationships — every single one of them — without a moment’s hesitation, and she had never missed them at all. The very thought must have been no more than a piece of jetsam floating around in the back of her mind, that was obvious. The idea of making contact with somebody from the past. It would never occur to her to make use of any of those ancient contacts that no longer existed in her consciousness, not in normal circumstances and not now either. It would have felt like. . well, like opening a box and being hit by a foul stench from something that had spent the last sixteen years rotting away. Ugh, no!
I’d rather sleep on the beach, she thought as she stepped into the lift. Thank goodness I got a room.
It was on the fourth floor with a balcony and a splendid view to the west and south-west over the dunes and the long, gently curving coastline as far as the lighthouse at Gordon’s Point.
It was rather expensive, but she only intended to stay the one night, so it was worth it.
She phoned Vrommel and told him where he could contact her, then took a shower. Ordered a pot of coffee from room service, and went out to sit on the balcony.
It was two o’clock. The sun came and went — or the clouds, to be more precise; but it soon became so warm that she could easily have sat there naked if she’d wanted to. Nobody could see her, apart from helicopter passengers and seagulls. Nevertheless, she kept her bra and pants on. And her wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses. As if there had been somebody watching after all.
Now what? she thought. What the hell am I going to do now?
And panic came creeping up on her like a fever in the night.
Guilt?
Why should I feel guilty? she asked herself. She’d only done what she had to do. Then and now.
She had done what she knew was inevitable. Sooner or later. A child must know the truth about its parents. One side of it, at least. A child had a right to that, an incontrovertible right, and there was no way round that fact.
Sooner or later. And her eighteenth birthday had been decided on long ago.
She thought about Helmut, and his grumbling the previous night.
About Mikaela and her immediate reaction, which had been just about what she had expected.
Or had it really been? Had she really thought that her daughter would take her mother’s advice and let the whole matter rest? Leave everything just as it was, untouched, like something dumb and withered away and forgotten? Not even try to open the lid on it?
Is that really how it was? Had she really believed that her daughter wouldn’t try to find her real father?
Of course not. Mikaela was Mikaela, and her mother’s daughter. Mikaela has reacted exactly as she had expected. Just as she would have done herself.
Had she blamed her?
Had Mikaela blamed her mother for not telling her sooner? Or for telling her now?
No, and no.
Perhaps to some extent because she hadn’t been told the full story — but when she discovered all the facts she would no doubt understand. Definitely. And she had to leave something for Arnold to tell her. Or at least, give him a chance to do so.
But what about Helmut’s grumbling?
Not worth bothering about. As usual.
So why this suffocating feeling of guilt?
She’d bought a packet of cigarettes to help her out if an emergency arose. She went to fetch them from her handbag. Went back out onto the balcony, lit one and leaned back on her chair.
The first drag made her feel dizzy.
Arnold? she thought.
Is there something I owe Arnold?
A preposterous thought. She took another drag.
And started thinking about him.
Not a single telephone call.
