Julia Franck - Back to Back

Let’s climb out of the window. If we come into the house from the garden and over the veranda, we could be strangers. Ella felt her feather to see if it was back in the right place.

Here I go.

It’s raining, watch out, the grass is wet.

I don’t mind. Thomas opened the window and climbed out on the sill. Getting wet is okay if you don’t have any clothes on. Thomas was already bending his knees slightly, and he jumped out into the plantains and dead nettles. Once in the garden, he spread his arms: Come on, I’ll catch you.

Ella didn’t trust herself to jump. She sat on the sill and hesitated. When she looked down she could already feel the pain of her foot breaking, she didn’t want to break anything, feel any pain. She put her tongue out; she liked the summer rain. She liked feeling the raindrops on her bare arms. She’d have to be careful of the garland, she didn’t want it to be ruined when she jumped.

Come on!

Thomas had never disappointed her, he had always caught her, he had always found food when Käthe left them for weeks without money and nourishment in the dark house, it was Thomas who had carried Ella’s school briefcase home when Ella had been furious or sulky and hadn’t wanted to carry it herself.

Come on! My feet are getting wet and cold!

You’re crazy! Summer rain is warm. Ella was laughing at him.

He had taken his school-leaving exam two weeks ago. He had caught up with Ella and passed her without meaning to. She couldn’t do maths, and had missed many weeks of school when she was staying away and then having the sleeping cure. Or had it been months? It was said she’d had typhoid fever, had been asleep with typhoid fever as a cure for the weakness. Ella wasn’t quite sure about that; she had been given tranquillisers, maybe Käthe had only taken her to the hospital so that she herself could get better. Ella was glad to have been out of Käthe’s house in February and March, away from the lodger, far away from algebra and other little things that she couldn’t remember. But coming back was difficult. All the rest of her class had taken their school-leaving exams in those weeks.

Thomas would help her, he would spend every day studying with her for the next few months, studying patiently until she knew everything, or at least the most important parts. He had promised.

Come on!

Ella leaned forward as far as possible until she could touch his hand, her eyes fell on the stones and broken shards beneath the window, limestone and green fragments, the dead-nettle flowers were white; she felt Thomas’s hand, his warmth, he was strong, he could catch her.

Now, she called, pushing herself off from the windowsill, and he caught her in both arms. Their heads knocked together, that was all, but it didn’t hurt.

It was drizzling, the raindrops were warm, sunlight fell through the trees, the sun was just setting. Maybe they could see a rainbow? Midges settled on Thomas’s bare skin. Ella went ahead. The wet grass tickled and squeaked under the soles of her shoes.

Maybe she ought to pick some flowers for Käthe? But that would annoy her. The fuchsias glowed violet and pale pink, drops of summer rain glittered on their dark green leaves in the red sunset light. The lawn was wet, and Ella’s stockings soaked up the lukewarm moisture. Maybe she ought to go barefoot like Thomas? Vines climbed over the wall of the studio and up to the roof. Ella’s mouth watered at the mere thought of the tiny, sweet-sour bunches of grapes. She picked one and pulled off two or three green berries.

Come on, little doggy, come on, she said, bending down to Thomas, who was already kneeling on the ground and panting like a dog. Look, you’d like these, wouldn’t you? She held out the grapes on the flat of her hand in front of the mask, giggling. His rough tongue came through the muzzle opening in the mask, but wasn’t long enough to lick up the grapes. Two men were sitting at the back of the garden under the spreading willow tree, talking and smoking, and didn’t notice Thomas and Ella. Shlabbidiwabb.

There was light in the veranda windows. The leash that Käthe put on her dog only when they went into the town hung at the bottom of the steps. Ella took it and put the collar fastened to it round Thomas’s furry neck. There’s a good boy, then. They climbed the steps and opened the veranda door. Someone was barring their way, a kneeling figure who had to move slightly sideways so that the door could open and Ella and Thomas could slip in. The kneeling figure wore a transparent veil with flowers on it, and a nightshirt under it, he wasn’t made up, no mask, obviously he was half-hearted about fancy dress. The man seemed familiar to Ella, but she wasn’t sure if she had ever seen him before. He was kneeling in front of the bookshelves leafing through mildewed pages reverently and carefully. He lowered his nose to the paper, smelled it. No doubt about it, he had found a treasure — and the shoving and laughter and celebrations around him didn’t seem important to him, he didn’t notice any of it, he turned pages and read.

An elderly gentleman was standing by the window, watching the guests. He stood out because he seemed to be the only one not wearing fancy dress. He had a suit on, jacket, waistcoat and trousers all in the same finely woven dark green material, a pair of gold-framed glasses, and his hair was going grey. Oh. His mouth dropped open when he saw Thomas. A scantily clad young man in a dog mask being led on a leash by a girl. His eyes went to Ella. Not the smallest trace of a smile appeared on his face.

Uncle Paul? Uncertainly, Ella took a step towards him. She smiled. Are you Uncle Paul?

The gentleman scrutinised the slender figure of Pan and shook his head.

Have we met? He instinctively reached for the handkerchief in the top pocket of his jacket and held it as if to blow his nose or clean his glasses, but he did neither.

I don’t know. Ella was stammering, and felt that she was blushing red. It was several years since she had seen her uncle, and it was only an idea, obviously a wrong one. She wasn’t sure whether she could even recognise him. Thomas and Ella revered their American uncle, although they saw him so seldom.

No, said the gentleman, shaking his head, fancy dress, costumes, there are limits to those as well. Young people these days could be ashamed of themselves, he said slowly, they should be ashamed of themselves, but they aren’t. Don’t you two know the meaning of shame? It was an honest question, not a reproof.

Dismayed, Ella looked at her dog, who was panting in a friendly way. He would certainly have wagged his tail if he could. It was only a joke, she didn’t want to upset anyone, specially not this nice old gentleman whom she had taken, in her high spirits, for her American uncle.

The man turned away and did not look back again. Ella patted her dog’s head. No one laughed.

Thomas howled quietly and whimpered.

A young lady bent down and offered the dog a glass. Thirsty? She laughed. Maybe a little water? The lady looked round, saw a flowered plate and tipped her white wine onto it. There you are.

Thomas panted, he got up on his knees and pawed the woman’s stomach with his hands. She almost fell over, she took a step or two backwards, supported herself on several people and stood her ground.

That’ll do, that’ll do. It was getting too much for her.

Ella jerked her dog’s leash and said: Bello, what did I tell you? You’re not to jump up at people. Calm down, Bello, come on, calm down. Thomas snuffled his way along the floor with the muzzle of his mask; he obviously couldn’t see enough of the plate through the openings for his eyes. He lapped up the wine with the tip of his tongue.

Ella, what an enchanting feather! Alfred offered Ella his hand in greeting. He was a fine figure of a man, a sculptor and not very keen to be friends with Käthe, but he always turned up at her parties. Next moment Alfred’s eyes fell on the half-naked dog.