Julia Franck - Back to Back

You’re crying, says one of the twins, going along beside Ella and observing her with unconcealed curiosity. Why are you crying? asks the other twin, trotting along behind them.

A car clatters over the cobblestones. Ella walks along beside the wall of the house as far as the corner, but she doesn’t want to go into the garden now. She goes back, past the twins, who are sitting in the grass beside the ladder. What are we going to do now? asks the first twin. Wait for Käthe, says the second twin.

Without a word, Ella leaves the twins sitting in the grass and goes round to the other side of the house and the entrance to the yard. Didn’t Käthe take her car to the garage before going to Leuna? Has she had her motorbike repaired? It’s been standing in the shed without a back wheel for the past year or so, going rusty. Ella hears the distant squealing of the tram. They can go to meet it. It’s true that Ella does not know exactly when and by what means Käthe will arrive, but she must be here some time in the next few hours. Ella and the twins walk up and down outside the house. When a car passes once, the twins wave to it wildly, as if a steamer were sailing past on the bank. Ella sits down on the sandy path. She leans against the fence, folds her arms over her knees and puts her head down on them. She will look up only when one of the twins calls: Käthe! Until then she can count elephants to her heart’s content. One of them has an almost purple skin, but that could be because of the sun burning down on it. The air above the asphalt flickers. Aren’t the elephants thirsty? They are sinking into fluid tar with their heavy legs. Even making a great effort, they can’t move from the spot, the tar around their legs is sticking them to the ground.

Here comes Käthe! Ella hears the twins calling. She’s coming, she’s coming! And they add: Come on, let’s go and meet her.

Ella’s arm is wet. She stands up, wipes her tears from it with the other arm, and with small steps, swinging her arms, waving her trunk, she follows the twins, who are running towards a woman coming from the tram stop, loaded down with a rucksack and a heavy bag, tottering as she passes the mill on the way towards them.

Thomas is dead, whispers Ella, but Käthe doesn’t see her, looks past her, it is not clear whether she heard what Ella said. Or did Ella only think she said it?

Can’t someone take this bag? says Käthe to the twins, putting the heavy bag down in the middle of the front doorway. Go into the studio, you can make something with the clay in there. The twins do not obey. They are running back and forth between Käthe and Ella, until Käthe gives one of them a shove because apparently she trod on Käthe’s toes. Didn’t I tell you to go down? Out of here! Käthe grabs the twins by the scruffs of their necks, like kittens; holding them like that she takes them through the smoking room to the back door and right through the kitchen. She opens the nearest door, takes the twins by their wrists, hauls them over to the staircase leading down to the studio. You two stay here until I call you. And she shuts the door behind them, even turning the key, as if the twins couldn’t get back into the house any time by going out of the studio door and across the yard.

Käthe telephones, she goes to the toilet, she leafs through her post stacked on the table in the smoking room. She brushes the badminton racket off her chair so that it falls to the floor, and sits down. Soon after that she goes into the kitchen and runs water from the tap. When the bell rings she opens the front door. She points to the door they want and goes back into the kitchen, where she finishes her glass of water.

And what are you doing, running about after me all the time? Ask the men if they’d like some coffee. Take them the sheet they asked for.

Ella opens the dark linen cupboard that stands in one corner of the smoking room. The telephone rings. Käthe goes to answer and says, into the receiver, of course I haven’t forgotten the meeting. . yes. . no. With the sheet over her arm, Ella opens the door into the corridor. The men have broken down the door of Thomas’s room. First there were only two policemen, now a doctor has joined them. Ella looks through the open doorway into the room. The doctor gives instructions. Can she spread out the sheet on the floor beside the bed? Ella nods vaguely; of course she can do that. She shakes out the sheet until it is lying flat and smooth on the bouclé rug. The doctor has asked one of the policemen to lend a hand. It isn’t easy; they try it from different angles, but the bodies are stiffly entwined. Maybe here? Ella hears the policeman ask, and sees him about to take hold of the hip of Marie’s body. The doctor advises the shoulders. Will it take long, will it take minutes, will it take for ever? They are clasping each other tightly. When they lift Marie’s body off Thomas, it turns out that her radiant white skin, still dazzling on her back, is discoloured on her front; there are dark, purple, almost black marks on her stomach and her breasts. Carefully, the two men lay Marie’s body on the flat sheet.

The doorbell is ringing again. Ella goes to the front door, opens it and lets the new men in. Carrying huge zinc tubs, they knock into things all over the place, there is much clattering and clanking.

The first policemen tell their colleagues they can put the coffins down and wait out in the yard; they haven’t finished in here yet. Can they leave the coffins down in the bathroom, or where? Ella nods uncertainly. She approaches the bed and sits down at the far end, beside Thomas’s feet. On the floor, the doctor is examining Marie’s body, pressing his thumbs down on various parts of her stomach. He examines her eyes, and tries to look inside her mouth with a small flashlight. He has put down his stethoscope; it is hanging over Thomas’s trousers on the arm of the chair.

Käthe stands in the doorway for a moment, hands on her hips. Come out of there, Ella, she says, come here, you’re getting in the way. Ella stands up. One of the policemen is sitting at Thomas’s desk, noting something down on a form. Do you have a goodbye letter? Now he looks at Käthe and Ella, who stand motionless in the doorway watching what is going on.

A goodbye letter? Suddenly Käthe is weeping. She shakes her head. Has Ella ever seen Käthe shed tears before?

A note, a letter, anything. Did the dead couple give any advance notice of their intentions?

Advance notice? Now Käthe is weeping uncontrollably. My boy.

Ella puts her arm round little Käthe, but Käthe is still shivering, her tears are shaking her where she stands in the doorway, my boy, my boy. She does not return Ella’s embrace in any way. It is as if she were standing there alone, as if she neither notices Ella’s arm nor understands the policeman’s question, nor can she answer it. Ella tries to hold on to Käthe, but it is impossible, Käthe is trembling so much that Ella slips down past her, past the strong shoulders, past the huge, heaving bosom, there is nothing for Ella to hold on to, her legs feel weak, they give way, and Ella is sitting on the floor, she crawls out into the darkness of the corridor, where people come and go, come to parties, go away, come on visits, she lies on the floor under the coat stand.

Now the doctor would like to have one of the zinc coffins brought in, and asks the policeman to go into another room to question the relations. Would you please follow me? says the policeman, as he passes Käthe. But Käthe still stands in the doorway, my boy, she weeps and weeps, my boy.

Only when the policeman takes her arm and she tears herself away does she precede him into the smoking room. Ella watches their feet touching the ground, being raised off it again, coming back down, the policeman’s large feet in gleaming black shoes, Käthe’s tiny sandals.