Julia Franck - Back to Back

Not once? Käthe sat down and unrolled her napkin. The heart message, unnoticed, sailed to the floor. She tucked the napkin into the neck of her sweater, like a bib, and dug her spoon into the plate. Can’t you even heat the soup properly?

We did. Thomas was watching Käthe slurp, chew and swallow. It got cold once it was on the plate.

Käthe shovelled spoonful after spoonful into her mouth. And I suppose there’s no salad? She looked from Ella to Thomas and back again to Ella. What’s the matter, what are you waiting for, why don’t you eat up?

Bon appétit, murmured Ella.

Enjoy, said Thomas. No, sorry, there isn’t any salad.

But surely there are still dandelions in the garden? Haven’t you been eating any salad at all while I was away?

Thomas shook his head.

Ella said: Yes, we ate dandelion leaves. And carrots.

Käthe cleared her throat, spooned the last of the soup up from her plate and helped herself to more from the tureen. Ah, wonderful, at least this is lukewarm.

Thomas and Ella ate in silence, exchanging surreptitious glances. Under the table, Ella touched Thomas’s shin with her foot, Thomas kicked gently back. It couldn’t be long now before Käthe noticed the clean tablecloth, the freshly ironed curtains in the next room; in spite of the lentils and celeriac she would smell the beeswax and her eyes would go to the shining floor, she would see the clean carpet. She could look out at the garden and see the veranda door, with the electric light reflected in its panes in the dark. There were no curtains over it, so Käthe couldn’t help noticing the sparkling reflection in the glass.

What’s that? With a sudden jerk of her chin, Käthe indicated the flowers standing next to the tureen. A spoonful of lentils disappeared into her mouth. What’s the idea of that? Käthe looked from Ella to Thomas and back at Ella. Käthe was noticing things now, looking around her at last. Have you two given up talking? She brought her fist down lightly on the table.

Was that anger in her eyes? Was she joking, and would she laugh next moment? Thomas and Ella looked expectantly at Käthe. Ella couldn’t help smiling now, a smile spreading all over her face. At last Käthe was seeing what magic her brownies had worked in the house.

You picked those in the garden? What’s the matter, cat got your tongues? Käthe threw her spoon down in the empty soup plate with a clatter. Once again she struck the table, and the china clinked.

No more glances were exchanged. For an indefinite length of time, Ella just listened to the slight crackling in the stove, her smile had disappeared, fallen into the embers, there was a tingling inside her but she couldn’t breathe. Her gaze was fixed spellbound on the tablecloth that she had taken off the line and ironed this morning. Whining, Agotto put his muzzle on the table.

How often have I told you the flowers in the garden aren’t for picking? At least, you two aren’t to pick any there! Agotto was whining miserably, whimpering.

It’s autumn. Ella’s voice failed her.

The flowers will wither now anyway. And if they don’t wither they’ll soon freeze overnight. It wasn’t easy to defend Ella, but Thomas kept trying all the same. She was the elder child, she was first to bear the brunt of all the blame, he was younger, Käthe loved him, he was sure of that.

Don’t be impertinent. If I say none of the flowers in the garden are to be picked, then kindly don’t pick them behind my back! Understand? Käthe took a gulp of water from her glass. You two can’t even be left on your own for two weeks!

Thomas and Ella hardly dared to lower or raise their heads. Their feet touched under the table.

Käthe drained her glass and opened the newspaper that she had put on the chair beside her before supper. You can wash the dishes, I’m going down to the studio. One of you can take the dog for a walk.

Silence for a minute, two minutes. Were those going to be Käthe’s last words? Ella banged her spoon down in her plate, splashing soup into the air. What about the twins, Käthe, when are you fetching them? Ella knew only too well that Käthe didn’t like to be reminded of the twins. The twins were a nuisance. They couldn’t look after themselves, at the age of three they couldn’t be left alone while Thomas and Ella were at school. So in those weeks while she was away, Käthe usually took them to the Werder peninsula near Potsdam, where there was a reliable children’s home.

The twins are coming back tomorrow, the Winters are bringing them. Käthe stayed hidden behind her newspaper as she said that; she had not reacted to the clatter of Ella’s spoon, nor did the question about the twins impress her. Silently, Thomas rubbed his sleeve over his eyes.

Ella and Thomas looked at their half-full plates. They would have to eat it all up if they wanted to avert a row. There were only the little bits of bacon left on Thomas’s plate; he had picked them out and put them on the rim. Without attracting Käthe’s attention, he pushed them onto Ella’s plate. Ella loved bacon, if she had her way she would eat nothing else, no lentils, no parsley, just bacon.

In silence, Ella and Thomas cleared the table. Ella washed the dishes, Thomas dried them. They couldn’t think of anything to say to each other.

Doors opened and closed, and Käthe marched through the kitchen and straight down the steps to her studio.

The two of them took the dog out to the Fliess, where the woods began on the other side of the stream. There was mist among the trees. They didn’t talk.

Before the children put out the light at bedtime, Käthe opened the door to their room and said: There are bottles all over the back stairs. Didn’t I tell you to clear them away? Do it tomorrow.

The door was closed, Thomas switched off the light. The ticking pendulum of the grandfather clock in the corridor could be heard through the door, it began to strike the full hour. Thomas counted along under his breath, it struck ten times.

Let’s run away, Ella whispered in the dark.

Where to?

Doesn’t matter.

She’ll search for us.

Good. I look forward to that. She’ll realise we’re missing, maybe she’ll think we’re dead.

When?

I’m sure that boat will still be in the reeds. Think of it — our tracks go down to the water and then they disappear.

If Agotto helps her to look for us he’ll stand on the banks of the lake howling. Thomas was lying on his stomach, chin propped in his hands, frowning. Ella could see that it gave him no pleasure to think of Käthe’s anxiety, he was already feeling sorry for her. His defencelessness annoyed her.

Serves her right.

When?

Tomorrow, we’ll take our things there after school. We ought to have something to eat with us.

I don’t want to freeze.

For a while they lay in silence on their separate beds in the dark room.

How long will we stay away? Thomas’s voice was unsteady. He certainly didn’t want to frighten Käthe. He didn’t like the idea of her anxiety. He tied one corner of his handkerchief round his finger.

She’ll be bound to miss us by supper time at the latest. We’ll stay out on the water until midnight.

We may hear her calling from the bank when she comes looking for us.

Let’s hope so. Maybe. Maybe she won’t look down by the lake, maybe she’ll go to see the neighbours first and ask if anyone’s seen us.

They had taken off their shoes and socks on the bank. With their socks tucked into their shoes, their trouser legs turned up, they had waded through the icy water to the boat to stow the last of their things away in the bows and under the seat. The reeds cut into Thomas’s calves; he gritted his teeth and took a few steps back to take the camping stove and the basket of provisions from Ella. Finally Ella carried their shoes, all muddy from the marshy ground, out to the boat. They had forgotten to bring a towel, so they dried their frozen feet as best they could with the quilt. Putting their socks back on took some time, the boat was rocking, and the socks stuck to their damp, cold feet. Their shoes felt clammy as well.