you.â
Seconds later the Porsche was gone.
Another trip to the old folksâ home was scheduled for Sunday. Even as she carried the suitcase back through the streets Susanne was wondering what she could wear. Then she was home and trying the clothes on. Her heart missed a beat when her fingers felt the thin piece of paper in one of the blazer pockets. Two hundred euros. With a handwritten note attached by a paper clip: âFor the hairdresser.â And sheâd assumed it was just a casual remark.
She would certainly have been able to find a hairdresser on the Saturday morning who would have taken her without an appointment, but why spend more money than absolutely necessary? She bought a pair of sharp scissors in the supermarket and some brown tinting lotion. Using the mirror in her tiny bathroom, she first of all cut off most of what she needed to get rid of, then, bending her head as far forward as possible, managed to get a fairly straight edge at the back. Finally she applied the tinting lotion.
At two oâclock on Sunday afternoon she was standing on the edge of the pavement with slightly straggly but dark brown hair. She could hardly wait for Johannes Herzog to arrive, for his look of astonishment and a remark such as, âYouâre looking very elegant today.â She did look very elegant in the white blouse, a narrow, dark-blue skirt, a pair of court shoes and, casually draped over her left arm, the blazer which had contained such a momentarily embarrassing surprise.
At half-past two she was still standing on the pavement. Up above, Heller was leaning out of the window pouring forth speculations as to why her toy boy had stood her up and, with obscene suggestions, volunteering to help her pass the time, even the whole afternoon if necessary, so that she wouldnât know whether she was coming or going. She ignored him, wondering, with a mixture of irritation and concern,
where Johannes could be and whether heâd had an accident. The way he drove that wasnât impossible.
After a further ten minutes Hellerâs abuse was just too much for her. But she wasnât going to abandon the trip to see her mother. Nadiaâs money gave her other possibilities. She went to the station, took the suburban railway and did the last part by bus. From the bus stop it was only eight hundred yards to the old folksâ home.
Agnes Runge was delighted to see her but said it would have been better if she hadnât come. There was flu in the home, half of the inmates were ill and some had even gone into hospital. That was why Johannes Herzogâs grandmother had told him not to come. Naturally it had not occurred to Johannes to pop over to Susanneâs and tell her. But you couldnât expect a young man to think of that. And since she didnât have a telephone - so as not to be disturbed during her weekends, she claimed - her mother hadnât been able to tell her either. It was easy to lie to Agnes Runge - she wanted to believe all was well with her daughter.
On the way back to the bus stop Susanne was caught in a heavy shower and got soaked to the skin. On the Monday she felt under the weather and spent most of the day in bed, hoping that would nip any flu in the bud. Despite that, she had a cough on Tuesday. It wasnât so bad as to cause concern, it just gave her a headache, as did any physical exertion since her skull had been fractured.
On Wednesday the cough was worse. She bought some bronchial tea from the chemistâs, drank two cups and went to bed, sweating profusely. Her poor nourishment over the past few months was taking its toll. Sometimes she was sweating so profusely the sheets stuck to her, at others she was so cold the shivers gave her cramp in all her muscles. Every breath she took was a struggle and set off fits of coughing that made her feel as if her head were about to explode. In the evening she remembered she hadnât checked her post, but she
Seconds later the Porsche was gone.
Another trip to the old folksâ home was scheduled for Sunday. Even as she carried the suitcase back through the streets Susanne was wondering what she could wear. Then she was home and trying the clothes on. Her heart missed a beat when her fingers felt the thin piece of paper in one of the blazer pockets. Two hundred euros. With a handwritten note attached by a paper clip: âFor the hairdresser.â And sheâd assumed it was just a casual remark.
She would certainly have been able to find a hairdresser on the Saturday morning who would have taken her without an appointment, but why spend more money than absolutely necessary? She bought a pair of sharp scissors in the supermarket and some brown tinting lotion. Using the mirror in her tiny bathroom, she first of all cut off most of what she needed to get rid of, then, bending her head as far forward as possible, managed to get a fairly straight edge at the back. Finally she applied the tinting lotion.
At two oâclock on Sunday afternoon she was standing on the edge of the pavement with slightly straggly but dark brown hair. She could hardly wait for Johannes Herzog to arrive, for his look of astonishment and a remark such as, âYouâre looking very elegant today.â She did look very elegant in the white blouse, a narrow, dark-blue skirt, a pair of court shoes and, casually draped over her left arm, the blazer which had contained such a momentarily embarrassing surprise.
At half-past two she was still standing on the pavement. Up above, Heller was leaning out of the window pouring forth speculations as to why her toy boy had stood her up and, with obscene suggestions, volunteering to help her pass the time, even the whole afternoon if necessary, so that she wouldnât know whether she was coming or going. She ignored him, wondering, with a mixture of irritation and concern,
where Johannes could be and whether heâd had an accident. The way he drove that wasnât impossible.
After a further ten minutes Hellerâs abuse was just too much for her. But she wasnât going to abandon the trip to see her mother. Nadiaâs money gave her other possibilities. She went to the station, took the suburban railway and did the last part by bus. From the bus stop it was only eight hundred yards to the old folksâ home.
Agnes Runge was delighted to see her but said it would have been better if she hadnât come. There was flu in the home, half of the inmates were ill and some had even gone into hospital. That was why Johannes Herzogâs grandmother had told him not to come. Naturally it had not occurred to Johannes to pop over to Susanneâs and tell her. But you couldnât expect a young man to think of that. And since she didnât have a telephone - so as not to be disturbed during her weekends, she claimed - her mother hadnât been able to tell her either. It was easy to lie to Agnes Runge - she wanted to believe all was well with her daughter.
On the way back to the bus stop Susanne was caught in a heavy shower and got soaked to the skin. On the Monday she felt under the weather and spent most of the day in bed, hoping that would nip any flu in the bud. Despite that, she had a cough on Tuesday. It wasnât so bad as to cause concern, it just gave her a headache, as did any physical exertion since her skull had been fractured.
On Wednesday the cough was worse. She bought some bronchial tea from the chemistâs, drank two cups and went to bed, sweating profusely. Her poor nourishment over the past few months was taking its toll. Sometimes she was sweating so profusely the sheets stuck to her, at others she was so cold the shivers gave her cramp in all her muscles. Every breath she took was a struggle and set off fits of coughing that made her feel as if her head were about to explode. In the evening she remembered she hadnât checked her post, but she
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