Little Grey Mice (48 page)

What was the first priority? To find out, she answered herself at once. To make an appointment with a gynaecologist and explain how careful they'd been, always, but that this had suddenly arisen so she'd thought it best to consult a specialist. (
Very wise, but I can assure you there's nothing for you to worry about … quite natural … just take this medication, as prescribed
.) Monday: she'd talk to her general practitioner and get a recommendation and on Monday make an appointment. No reason to delay. She couldn't go on as she had been doing, pretending and making excuses. How long would this diagnosis take? Not long: it hadn't taken a full day to learn she was pregnant with Ursula, and from an ordinary doctor then, not a specialist. What if it wasn't the placating prognosis for which, still faintly, she hoped? Confront the situation, fully, properly. She wouldn't need any help, any support, from Ida to tell Otto. Just the simple, straight, unambiguous announcement. And hear in return his simple, straight, unambiguous reply.
I'm so happy, my darling: so phased. We'll
choose names and plan a nursery and have the wedding just as you want and be so happy, the four of us, you, me, the baby and Ursula …
And after that she'd tell Ida: the very next weekend, when Ida imagined she had announcements of her own to make to her!

Elke acknowledged how ridiculous she had been, letting herself slide as she had: she had to try to remember to say sorry to Otto, when everything else had been explained and they'd kissed and laughed and made their plans. She should be delighted, ecstatic, not buried in black depression. It was going to be wonderful, she determined, allowing herself the word: everything was going to be wonderful.

It was an impulsive decision that Saturday morning to re-weave old patterns, although Elke recognized before she set out that it would not be quite the same because there had been so many changes: Poppi wasn't with her any more, for a start. She still felt the desire for nostalgia, a reminder of an empty past to put against a full future. Elke drove carefully into the centre of Bonn and by incredible coincidence found a parking meter in Engeltalstrasse, where she'd parked the day Reimann's stolen car had been crashed into her Volkswagen. There was even a similarity in how crowded the main market and the adjoining flower square were, on her way to the Bonner Café. Clara was still there, and greeted Elke with reserved warmth, and her luck continued because the table that had always been hers on a Saturday morning was vacant, waiting for her. The apple cake was superb, not burned at all: Elke refused cream or custard with it but took cream with the coffee.

So lucky, Elke decided, her spirits completely restored, all her apprehensions firmly controlled at last: she was so incredibly, contentedly happy. Caught by the word, she tried to recall another time she'd felt like this. Andernach, she decided instantly. That beautiful, perfect day at Andernach, the first time he'd taken her, when he'd stumbled and couldn't openly say he loved her: the day, at the end, when they'd
made
love, for the very first time. Close, judged Elke: close but not a perfect comparison because in absolute honesty she believed she had been slightly happier that day at Andernach.

Elke felt comforted, warmed, by the nostalgia and didn't want it to stop. It didn't have to, she decided, indulging herself. She could fill part of the day by retracing the river cruise to Andernach. Not to their hidden valley, not by herself. Just to the tiny town, possibly. She could have lunch there and still be back in Bonn by the afternoon: she didn't want to be away from Kaufmannstrasse too late. Otto might call.

To avoid his being seen at Nord-Stadt the plan was for Jutta to pick him up in her car closer in to town, outside the Schlosspark Hotel on Kurfürstenstrasse. It was a glorious day and Reimann decided to walk: he guessed how long it would take and arrived early. Jutta was on time to the minute and he stepped forward on the pavement at the sight of the approaching grey Audi.

‘I've been looking forward to today,' she said.

‘So have I,' said Reimann. What would Elke be doing?

Chapter Thirty-Seven

When they started to go along the river road Reimann realized that although he had been early and Jutta had been prompt they had mistimed their arrival, forgetting the car. All the obvious parks were full and they couldn't immediately find spaces in any of the bordering roads. Jutta grew increasingly angry and several times said ‘Shit!' and hit her hand against the wheel in frustration, like a child whose special outing was endangered. She drove too quickly and too far along Rathenauufer before turning back on herself, returning towards the bridge. It was practically departure time when they located a place in a small sidestreet off Zweite Fährgasse: he ran ahead to get the tickets, leaving Jutta to feed the meter. Reimann was at the jetty, waiting impatiently, when she panted up. The ferry cast off the moment they boarded.

‘Did it!' said Jutta, triumphant with small successes.

‘Why was
this
ferry so important?'

‘It just was.' Jutta knew the reply was illogical but she didn't care: nothing was in its proper place any more. Otto had superseded her, taken over. She wished she could enjoy being told what to do by a man, as other women enjoyed it.

The ferry was already packed, but he managed two seats outside on a starboard deck, the side upon which they'd boarded. They were jammed tightly together, touching from calf to shoulder. With the weather as hot as it was he found the closeness uncomfortable.

‘I told you I wanted to say something,' said Jutta.

Reimann had forgotten. ‘Yes?' he said.

‘I want to apologize.' She
had
to learn to accept it.

‘What for?'

‘How I've been. For a long time.'

Reimann frowned, looking directly at her.

‘I didn't mean it,' Jutta continued, before he could speak, hoping the explanation came out as she wanted. ‘Not intentionally … But I realize what it must have been like … It just meant a lot to me, I suppose … do you understand what I'm saying…?'

‘I'm not sure,' said Reimann, doubtfully. Subservience was uncomfortable for her.

‘… I didn't treat you correctly … regard you as I should have done …'Jutta struggled to a halt. She wouldn't – couldn't – tell him she'd regarded him as her intellectual inferior. Which he clearly wasn't, not any more, anyway. She said: ‘It was a mistake and I'm sincerely sorry. And I'm sorry about that nonsense of following you to the restaurant, too. It was … I wanted to see what she looked like, that's all. I was … I
needed
to. It won't happen again. None of it.'

‘Stop it, Jutta,' said Reimann, gently. ‘I
do
understand.' He realized that she was mentally prostrating herself before him: he should feel something. So why didn't he?

‘Forgive me?'

‘There's nothing to forgive.' At least the operation hadn't been endangered. He wasn't sure about anything else.

‘I love you. I want you to know that: know that I love you.'

She'd expect a matching reassurance. ‘I love you, too.'

‘I won't let it happen again … in the future …'

‘Let's forget it.' Was it too late? he wondered. He had to change the subject, talk about something else. He didn't want to analyse their personal relationship. ‘How's the flat-hunting?' It was the best he could manage.

Jutta seemed as relieved as he was to move on to something else. ‘I've seen something at Niederdollendorf. An old property, not purpose-built. It's got an extra bedroom to what I've got at Nord-Stadt, but it's the same price as I'm paying at the moment.'

‘Are you going to take it?' Niederdollendorf would mean further for him to go for their meetings.

‘I've put down a three-hundred-mark holding deposit to keep it for a fortnight,' disclosed Jutta. ‘As you said before, I'd better get formal permission.'

Reimann wondered if the Russians would refuse. It was a possibility if they'd gone to a lot of trouble wiring Nord-Stadt. ‘What if they say you have to stay where you are?'

She'd had her head on his shoulder. She pulled away, to look at him, and Reimann was glad the warmth of her closeness was eased temporarily. Worriedly she said: ‘Why should they? There was no insistence at the beginning.'

‘It was just a thought.' There were too many people – most certainly too many yelling, scurrying children – on the boat. They had to sit with their legs tightly withdrawn to allow a constant stream of aimless wanderers to pass in front. Reimann thought it was like being on a cattle barge, although he was not sure cattle were transported up and down the Rhine by barge. Everything else seemed to be.

‘I'd argue about it,' Jutta insisted. ‘I don't want to stay at Nord-Stadt any longer. I want to get out.'

Try harder, Reimann told himself: he had to try much harder to show he was interested. He said: ‘Tell them it's my idea, as much as yours: more my idea than yours, if you like. Say I'm concerned there might be curiosity at my coming there too frequently.'

Jutta tugged at his arm, putting her head back on his shoulder, which he wished she hadn't, and said: ‘Wonderful, darling! I'll do that.'

Wonderful, isolated Reimann: Elke's word.
I mustn't use wonderful any more. I mustn't do anything to bore him.
Reimann let the reflection run. Elke didn't bore him. He'd thought she would – expected that she would – because of her insular, enclosed life, but it hadn't turned out like that at all. Although he had to remain constantly alert, for all the obvious reasons, at the same time he never felt pressured or on demand with her: never, particularly, on those recent, do-as-you-want nights together at Rochusplatz. He'd felt very contented then: just being there together, doing nothing, needing nothing, often not talking, which he privately acknowledged to be a professional failing on his part. It was unfortunate her periods were becoming difficult. He'd have to keep on until she went to a gynaecologist to get the problem sorted out. ‘What?' Jutta had been speaking but he hadn't heard what she said.

‘Do you think they will object?' Jutta repeated.

‘I don't know,' said Reimann. ‘It was just something that crossed my mind.' Even sardines were packed in cans with more room!

‘What are we going to do in Koblenz?' asked Jutta, eagerly.

God knows, he thought: during conversations with journalists in their Joachimstrasse bar there'd been talk of an excellent inn, but he couldn't recall its name. And then, abruptly, he did. Weinhaus Hubertus. Very old and full of hunting trophies. But they'd get to the city too late for lunch. ‘Look around. Have a drink. Shop,' said Reimann, emptily. Why in Christ's name was he bothering with her? ‘Definitely shop!' he insisted, pushing some feeling into his voice. ‘We'll shop and I'll buy you a present!'

Jutta pulled away again, allowing some welcome coolness to come between them. ‘What?'

‘What do you want? Think of something you want more than anything else in the world!'

‘You to be …' started Jutta and stopped, looking away from him, waiting for the rebuke. When he didn't make one she said: ‘I don't know! I can't think!'

‘You've got time,' he said. Hours, he thought. Although they were shaded from the direct sunlight by the jut of an overhanging deck above, he was too hot. They
would
arrive at Koblenz long after any proper lunchtime. He jerked his head over his shoulder, towards the mid-deck bar and restaurant. ‘If we went in now we would be ahead of the rush. We could have a peaceful drink.'

‘We'd probably lose our seats here,' Jutta warned.

‘I'd be glad to,' said Reimann, pulling his legs tighter in to allow the passage of a raucous school group herded by a strained-eyed teacher.

‘You're making the decisions,' Jutta accepted.

She got up and followed him into the enclosed part of the steamer. The restaurant was virtually empty, the tablecloths unmarked, the posies of decorative flowers intact in their vases, shining cutlery regimented in stand-to-attention lines. They got a table set just for two, still on the starboard side. Making the effort, Reimann ordered a bottle of sparkling wine. ‘To celebrate our having a whole day together.'

Jutta's face clouded, which he hadn't expected. ‘What about tomorrow?' she demanded.

It was a consideration Reimann had been putting off, although he'd known the question would arise sometime during the day. He said: ‘I hadn't got as far as tomorrow yet.' It was a lie! An easy, callous lie! Of course he'd thought about tomorrow. He'd thought of telephoning ahead and getting back to Kaufmannstrasse in time to drive Elke to Marienfels, and letting the day develop however it did after that.

‘Think about it,' said Jutta. Instantly, hurried, she said: ‘I didn't mean it like that! I meant please!'

Pressured and on demand, thought Reimann. ‘We'll have all day together tomorrow,' he surrendered, knowing he had to. He'd have to call Elke: they'd made no positive arrangements but he imagined she'd expected him back. The excuse of being delayed by the assignment would be acceptable enough.

Jutta was smiling over the table to him. She looked around, needlessly, and said: ‘Is there anything to tell me today that I should pass on?'

Elke had seemed more forthcoming during the previous week, but it was an impression without any supportive facts. Why should he try to impress the bastards after the way they'd demeaned him at the last meeting? He said: ‘Not yet. We'll talk again before you go.'

‘Something special!' announced Jutta, momentarily obtuse, reaching across the table for him. ‘That's what I want as a present. Something special. Like a ring or a brooch or a bracelet!'

Not a ring, Reimann decided at once. He took her hand familiarly between both of his and, despising himself for the theatricality of the gesture, pressed it against his face to kiss it.