Gerbrand Bakker - Ten White Geese

That afternoon she pushed the bamboo stakes down into the lawn. She had found a wooden slat in the pigsty, sturdy and more or less two metres long, and was using it as a measuring stick: three lengths into the lawn and one length wide. She turned it into a rectangle by stringing cord between the stakes. Slowly she started to cut a line in the grass. She wasn’t thinking about removing the sods yet, but worked out that it was twelve square metres. Now and then she straightened her back, raising her head to the sun. Suddenly a dog stuck its head between her legs.

‘He missed you too much.’

She turned round. The boy was standing next to the pigsty, one shoulder against the wall. The dog appeared unsurprised by their return. He sniffed around the oil tank, then disappeared behind the house.

‘And now he’s seen you, he’s off again.’ He didn’t move from his spot. ‘Not me though.’

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing. I couldn’t arrange a place to sleep. Everything’s shut around here this time of year.’

‘Did you walk all the way to the mountain?’

‘No. If I had, I wouldn’t be back by now.’ He held up a paper bag. ‘I’ve brought something to eat.’

‘From the baker’s in Waunfawr?’

‘Yes. They’d shut the second time I passed by, but she was still cleaning up. She said to say hello.’

‘How did she know you were coming here?’

‘They asked. They asked where I was coming from and where I was going.’

‘And you told them?’

‘Of course. Why not? She gave Sam a treat too. “A dog for the Dutchwoman,” she said. “That’s good.”’

The dog started barking, probably at the geese.

‘Sam ran ahead the whole way. As if he knew exactly where we were going.’

‘Can you draw?’

‘Yeah. Depends what.’

‘A garden?’

‘Oh, a plan. Sure. Why not? If I’ve got enough paper.’

‘Can you connect a TV?’

‘I’d say so.’ He looked at the roof of the house. ‘There’s the aerial. You must be able to plug it in somewhere inside.’

‘Can you dig, and push a wheelbarrow?’

‘Of course.’

‘Cook a lamb?’

‘Definitely. With garlic and anchovies.’

‘You can stay another day.’

He nodded and finally came free of the pigsty wall.

‘Anchovies?’

‘Then you don’t need to add salt.’

‘You haven’t had any coffee since this morning, I suppose?’

‘No. If they ever turn this into a long-distance path, the guidebook will have to say it’s less suited for the winter months. Or not at all.’ He gestured at the pigsty. ‘You could turn it into a bed and breakfast.’

‘Come on,’ she said.

‘Sam!’ he called.

The light brown cows had come up to the garden wall without her noticing, but took off in all directions when the dog came running round the corner of the house. The sun was almost setting; her working day was over.

The husband moved his foot. The plaster was heavy and awkward; a chair wobbled. The bar was half full. Lots of couples with their heads close together, the men with beers in front of them, the women mostly with glasses of Coke. A plastic Christmas tree in one corner, pine branches and fairy lights over the bar.

‘How’d you do it?’ the policeman asked.

‘Box of books.’

They drank their beers.

‘I found out something that made me want to track her down after all.’

‘What?’

‘ Ach .’ The husband raised his glass to his lips.

‘The police can’t help you,’ the policeman said. ‘She left of her own free will. There aren’t any signs of coercion.’

‘What should I do then?’

‘Hire a private investigator.’

‘A private eye? Do they really exist?’

‘Do you have any idea how often people use services like that?’

‘Apparently not.’

‘Look on the Web sometime.’

‘Can you recommend one?’

‘Nope. And if I could, I wouldn’t be allowed to.’

‘Is it expensive?’

‘Quite. But they often get quick results.’

The husband pointed at the policeman’s empty glass.

‘I’ll get them. You can hardly walk.’ The policeman stood up and went over to the bar for two more beers. He said something to the barman, they laughed, then he slalomed back to the table.

‘Are you married?’ the husband asked.

‘No. I’m in a relationship though. With another officer.’

‘Have you ever…Do you ever have someone else?’

‘Of course. That’s dead normal for us.’ The policeman looked him straight in the eye. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Just curious. Man talk, you know.’

‘That’s a disappointment. So you had girlfriends?’

‘ A girlfriend. Just one. But she did it too.’

‘What’s the big deal? You lot always make it so difficult.’

‘Yeah, maybe. Women are different from men.’

‘No, they’re not. How?’

‘When they’re unfaithful, there has to be an underlying problem.’

‘So your wife had an underlying problem?’

‘Yes.’

‘You want something to eat with this?’

‘Sure.’

‘I’ll get some bitterballen .’

‘What are we doing here?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Why do you associate with me?’

‘Aart! One portion of bitterballen !’ the policeman called.

The barman nodded. More and more people came into the bar, bringing in the damp. The windows misted over.

The husband drained his glass.

‘Why do you associate with me ? I could ask you the same,’ the policeman said.

‘I thought you were a nice guy.’

‘I am. Have you tried to get hold of that student?’

‘No. I don’t have any contacts at the university. What’s the point? I’d guess he’s not attending lectures any more.’

‘He’d be out of there.’

‘Travelling maybe. Somewhere in Asia. India, probably. To find himself and find enlightenment.’

‘Oh, one of them. Ending up on a mattress on the floor of some filthy hovel with all his Imodium gone. And a kid screaming day and night in the room next door.’

‘Yes. Maybe. Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘My mother-in-law thinks it’s strange me going out for a beer with you. She thinks you should have put me in jail. Is the barman one too?’

‘Yep.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Aart! Two more beers!’

‘There’s a side of her I’ve never understood. A part that was always out of reach. It’s like, it doesn’t really surprise me, her being gone.’

‘What did you find out? To make you suddenly want to register her as missing?’

‘She’s ill.’

‘Ill?’

‘Maybe very, very ill.’

‘And now she’s gone away, like a cat crawling off?’

‘Yes, maybe. She’s gone away anyway. From me. And from her parents.’

The barman put two glasses of beer down on the table. ‘The bitterballen are coming,’ he said, laying a hand on the policeman’s shoulder for a second.

‘That’s awful.’

‘At the end of the last academic year she started something with this student.’ He looked around. ‘Maybe because she was ill.’

‘The one whose dick you wanted to cut off.’

‘Oh yeah, sorry. You already knew that. We were just talking about him.’

‘I said it wasn’t allowed.’

The husband looked at the policeman. ‘It’s only now that I realise it must have been funny. For you.’

‘It wasn’t the least bit funny.’

‘No, of course not. But I was angry.’

‘Even though you weren’t much better yourself?’

‘No. I’m not angry any more. And I want to understand why she did it.’