Inseparable

by Heldt,Dora

  “Of course. Georg, you sound on edge. Are you working too much?”

  Georg sighed and laid his head down on the table.

  Perhaps Charlotte heard the sigh, for she started to speak more seriously. “Something’s just come to mind, but I’ll have to give it some more thought. I can’t this evening though; we’re playing bowls at seven. I’ll call again tomorrow. OK then, my dears, until then, Tschüss.”

  Ines put the phone down and looked at the other two with raised eyebrows. “Our mother!”

  Luise smiled. “Come on, we have Marie Erdmann; that’s a start. We forgot to ask for her parents’ address though; perhaps your parents will know. And we didn’t ask about Linda Love, but Gabi wanted to have a look online first. We’ll find them somehow, and I’m liking the idea more and more. What is it, Georg? What’s with the funny look on your face?”

  Georg gave a strained smile. “My best shirt’s ruined.”

  “Tidying Up for Mom”

  My friend Karola has canceled our sauna trip. We normally go every week. She didn’t cancel because she’s sick or has to work; no, she said she has to clean her house, including all the windows and cupboards, inside out. Now, Karola doesn’t live in a pigsty, nor is she messy. She lives in a small house in Hamburg, together with her husband, who works in Munich during the week. They have enough money to live comfortably, beautiful furniture, and a cleaning lady who comes every two weeks. No, Karola has to clean because her mother is coming to visit. And I completely understand.

  As a daughter you learn everything that you’ll need for an independent life after you leave the parental nest, and you usually learn it from your mother. The education starts with emptying the trash, then washing the dishes (“Just be careful with those glasses, they were expensive”) and drying up (“The pots last, don’t forget”). If the crockery casualties are kept to a minimum, then you can progress to more meaningful tasks, like peeling potatoes (“Don’t carve out figures, now, just peel them”), picking herbs, cleaning vegetables, and then the lesson to end all lessons: the Sunday roast. Of course, you can’t do that alone, especially given how much the meat costs, but the time span from making a start until the mother pushes the child aside in order to finish the roast herself gradually gets longer and longer. There are also courses in making the bed (“Make sure you do up all the buttons now”), ironing, cleaning the windows (“Use newspaper; cloths don’t do a darn thing”) and other comments that should always be instantly fixed to memory because they could be called upon at any time: “To tackle burned lids, boil dishwasher tablets. Put sunflower stems in boiling water, hang up curtains while they’re still wet, and, and, and…”

  Eventually, once you’ve learned all these lessons, you move out. Then it’s a whole new ball game. When I invited my parents for dinner in my very first apartment, I cooked smoked pork with sauerkraut and potatoes. My mother came into my kitchen and lowered the temperature on the oven, something for which I’m sure there was no good reason. Then she asked if I’d salted the potatoes, too, and when she tried the sauerkraut she said: “Shame, it tastes better with stock cubes.” And by the way, I had done everything just as she had shown me to.

  If you survive the first year after moving out, the mother’s attempts at influencing the daughter’s running of her new home become less extreme. Instead, there are other minefields to tackle.

  “What do you weigh at the moment? Those pants are really too tight on you” is a frequently uttered sentence, generally in the presence of the wonderful man you’ve only known for two days and who happened to be there at the same time your mother dropped by unannounced.

  Or: “Did you cut your own hair or something? It looks strange.” That was the first time I’d been to an expensive hairdresser, who had recommended I go for layers and highlights. My skirts were too short, my heels too high, and my favorite black clothes made my mother feel depressed. “Especially because yellow suits you so much.”

  A child’s social environment is placed under the microscope, especially—up to a certain age—with regard to male companions. All mothers have an internal scanner tucked away somewhere that can run a son-in-law test in mere seconds. Although, when it came to my mother, the results were seldom comprehensible. Not that I’m blaming her for the failure of my marriage, of course; perhaps her scanner had a loose wire back then.

  For years, the daughter’s friends are welcomed but rarely paid much attention to. That changes in a flash if those girls then have babies. It only takes a birth notice in the paper or, even better, a phone call from the new mother for the mother to burst enthusiastically into stories of how sweet the baby is, how much she always liked the friend, how she’s done so well for herself, it’s simply wonderful. At times I think I only missed having an adopted sister by a hairsbreadth.

  As a daughter, you just have to sit these phases out. At some point they’ll be over. Even the most ambitious of mothers will eventually realize that her child has become resistant to advice in some areas. That happens once the daughter is truly grown up. After that it will be possible to spend a carefree weekend with together at the spa, or go on shopping trips. By then, you can talk from woman to woman. Then, mothers and daughters can become good friends.

  Karola told me, by the way, that her mother was only there for coffee. Karola was exhausted and had pulled her shoulder cleaning the window, which hindered her a little when cutting the cake. With the words “Why are you making such a big fuss of it?” her mother took the knife from her hand. “You have to cut equal portions; otherwise how will it look?”

  Karola had bought the wrong apples for the cake, but apart from that it tasted really good. And the long-life whipping cream didn’t help either; it doesn’t whip properly. But apart from that the afternoon was very pleasant. Up until when they said their goodbyes, and Karola’s mother hugged her and said: “Chin up, my child, in six months your husband will be working in Hamburg again, and then you won’t be so sad. I can understand that you’re letting the housework slip a little at the moment, but just make sure you don’t let things go too much.”

  After that, Karola was done with trying to impress her.

  I have to go to the station now; my mother is arriving by train to go shopping with me. I’ve cleaned everything, gotten rid of the empty wine bottles, and hidden my cigarettes. But I hope she doesn’t come upstairs. My windows aren’t as shiny as they could be…

  Christine stretched and looked at the clock. “OK, it’s time for me to pack up now and head off on vacation.”

  Gabi looked up briefly before continuing to flick through the pile of client lists. “You lucky thing. I just can’t find that damn advertising invoice, and the company’s already complained. The thing has just vanished into thin air. Oh, I hate this, I want a vacation, too…oh, there it is!” She waved the sheet of paper triumphantly. “And we’ve already paid it, too; everything’s in order. So, are you going to Sylt today, or are you here for the weekend still?”

  Christine rummaged around in her bag, lowering her gaze. “I’m going this afternoon and staying until next Friday. You can reach me on my mobile if you need to.”

  “Who’s watering the plants on your balcony?”

  Christine looked up, baffled. “Dorothea. She lives opposite me. Since when were you worried about my plants?”

  Gabi shrugged her shoulders. “I just wondered, I mean, all the flowers are blooming so beautifully at the moment.”

  Christine shook her head. “You really do need a vacation. You haven’t been over to my place since March, and nothing was blooming then, but feel free to worry about them if you want to. So, I hope you have a peaceful week—see you the Monday after next.”

  “Have a wonderful vacation; say hi to the island for me and have fun.”

  They smiled at each other; then Christine disappeared out the door. Gabi waited a few minutes, then grabbed the phone and called Ruth.

  “She’s gone. She’s going to her parents’ place this afternoon. Dorothea
’s watering the plants, so she’ll have the key.”

  “Great! Do you know where the photo albums are?”

  “Hopefully Luise will; she should ask Ines.”

  Ruth’s voice sounded hesitant. “Perhaps Ines should go there herself; if we do it, it’s like prying. I think it’s better if her sister does it.”

  Gabi laughed. “That’s what I’ve been saying to you from the start. Do you want to phone Ines? Or Luise?”

  “Oh, Gabi, I’ve only met Ines once; could you call her for me please? I’ve already put together the text for the invitation and the questionnaire though; I’ll e-mail it to you now. You can show the others. I have to go now, I’ve got an editorial meeting, but we’ll speak soon. Ciao.”

  Gabi clicked on her mailbox and printed out Ruth’s documents.

  Just a few hours later, Dorothea stood in front of Christine’s apartment door as Ines and Gabi came up the steps. She hugged Ines and shook Gabi’s hand.

  “I think we’ve met before. You’re Christine’s colleague and were at her last birthday party, right?”

  “Yes, exactly. Have you heard about the plan?” asked Gabi.

  Dorothea nodded and turned to the door to unlock it.

  “Yes, Ines told me on the phone. So who’s Ruth Johannis? According to Luise it was all her idea.”

  Gabi followed Dorothea into Christine’s apartment. The hallway was filled with the aroma of Christine’s perfume.

  “Yes, that’s right, Ruth is really excited about it all. It was her idea, but she generally leaves the hard work to the rest of us. That’s how it always is: she gets everyone enthused then puts the pressure on.”

  “Hmm, am I sensing a catfight coming on?” Dorothea looked at Gabi curiously. She quickly shook her head.

  “No, nonsense, we’re good friends. We did our training together ten years ago, and we’ve been working for the same firm every since. She’s in the magazine section and I’m in the publishing house. We play tennis together, too. Oh, and she’s already put an invitation together, along with a questionnaire.”

  “Then that all sounds good.” Dorothea sank down into the red chair and looked at Ines. “Go on, you’re the sister. Grab the photo albums; maybe we’ll find traces from the old life of Christine S.”

  “I’d like to see the questionnaire first.” Ines stretched her hand out toward Gabi.

  Questionnaire

  Name, age, and place of residence?

  When and where did you meet Christine?

  What was your best experience together?

  What made your friendship stand out? And what sets Christine apart as a friend?

  What’s your motto in life?

  A friend is…?

  What was your first reaction to this invitation?

  One hour and three albums later, Dorothea went to fetch some champagne from her apartment. Ines had stared, frustrated, at every photo in which Christine appeared together with other children and teenagers. She rubbed her eyes.

  “It’s impossible, not a single written note under the pictures; my sister just hurls the pictures into the album without organizing them. How can someone be that sloppy? Apart from my cousins, I don’t recognize anyone.”

  Dorothea, who was coming back in with the opened champagne, laughed. “That must be really annoying to a fan of plastic folders and ring binders.” She poured the champagne into three glasses and sat back down. “I don’t even put my photos in albums, I just throw them in boxes.”

  Gabi sat up. “Me too. Perhaps she has boxes somewhere, too. Ines, go have another look.”

  Sighing, Ines stood up and went back into her sister’s study. Ten minutes later she came back, drank a sip of champagne, then went into the bedroom. After another five minutes she reappeared, standing in front of them with two boxes.

  “There are loads of pictures in here. But it’s a total mess.”

  She put the boxes on the table and lifted up the lid of the first. At that moment the telephone rang. They all jumped and looked at it. After the third ring, the answering machine kicked in. “Christine Schmidt is not in at the moment; please leave your message after the beep.” After the beep there was a brief pause; then they heard a male voice. “Christine, it’s me; I just wanted to check when you’ll be here. Since you’re not picking up, I guess you’ve already left, so I’ll try you on your cell.”

  Dorothea looked stunned, almost aghast. Ines looked at her curiously.

  “Who was that?”

  Dorothea quickly pushed her hair back from her face, then shrugged her shoulders. “No idea, he didn’t say his name.”

  She avoided Ines’s searching gaze, looked into one of the boxes, and pulled out a stack of pictures, notes, and old tickets. She spread them out in front of her.

  “My God, what a hoarder Christine is. Look, cinema tickets for Dirty Dancing—that’s certainly going back a few years!” She rummaged around in the photos and pulled one out. “Hey, isn’t that Marleen’s house? I went there once.”

  Ines looked at her questioningly and took the picture from her hand. “Yes, that’s Marleen. God, what does she look like? She must have been at least ten kilos heavier back then. It must have been at Christine’s wedding. Yes, that’s right, and there’s Dani; she stayed with Marleen.”

  Gabi looked over Ines’s shoulder. “Who’s Dani? Oh, and is that the Marleen from Cuxhaven who has a pub?”

  “That’s the one. Dani and Christine lived together before Christine met Bernd. Then Dani moved out and Bernd moved in. I don’t think they’ve seen each other since then. We have to find her.”

  Dorothea poured more champagne. “If I remember correctly, they didn’t exactly part on good terms.”

  Gabi looked at the photo more closely. “That’s why we have to find her. Maybe Marleen has her address.”

  Dorothea was skeptical. “After fifteen years? Give me the phone; I’ll call her if Christine has the number saved.” Halfway through she paused and then started to laugh. “I don’t even know Marleen’s surname. Do you, Ines?”

  Ines thought with great effort and then shook her head. “That’s embarrassing, I don’t know either, and I’ve known her for a long time. But try looking under M for Marleen.”

  Christine really had saved the number under M. Thankfully, Dorothea pressed the speed dial. Marleen answered after the third ring.

  “Hi, it’s Dorothea here.”

  “Dorothea! Is something wrong with Christine?”

  “No, no, she’s on her way to Sylt for a week’s vacation.”

  “I know, we spoke last night on the phone. I thought something must have happened because you were calling.”

  “No reason to worry. But we’re planning something…that is to say, two of Christine’s colleagues had an idea and have talked us all into it. Listen, it’s like this…”

  Dorothea explained about Ruth and Gabi and their plan, and about Linda Love and the so-far unsuccessful investigations.

  “And now we’re in Christine’s apartment, rooting through her photo albums. So far we haven’t found a thing, no notes with the photos, no addresses. But there’s a photo of you and Dani at Christine’s wedding. Do you remember her?”

  Marleen answered at once. “Daniela, her roommate, yes of course; she stayed with us for the wedding. I think I even still have her parents’ address. Dani lived in Bremen back then and left her house key here, so I took it to her parents’ place in Cuxhaven. I’ll see if I can get in touch with them.”

  Dorothea nodded at the others and gave a thumbs-up.

  “Oh, Marleen, you’re our first breakthrough! This is great. I’m really starting to enjoy this detective work.”

  “Well, I just hope Christine enjoys it, too; she’s not exactly a big fan of surprises.”

  Ines took the phone from Dorothea. “Marleen, it’s Ines, I was listening in. You know, I was skeptical at first, too, but Christine’s been getting quite sentimental recently and keeps talking about the old days. Luise told us; she’s hel
ping us with the search. Can you think of anyone else?”

  Marleen was still a little doubtful. “OK, then I hope that’s the case. Let me think…Have you already thought of Lena?”

  “Yes, the volleyball player. But we can’t find even a trace of her. Oh, tell me you know where she is!”

  “There are a few of the old ladies that help us in the pub. They bake our cakes and help make the meatballs when I’m preparing casseroles for wedding parties. Lena’s mother is one of them, and I’ll be seeing her tomorrow.”

  “Marleen, I could kiss you! Are you in?”

  Marleen laughed. “For the kiss or the search? OK, I’ll see what I can find out. I’ll call you. Give my love to the rest of the detectives. Bye.”

  Gabi and Dorothea gave each other a high five.

  Sylt

  One hundred and fifty kilometers to the north, Christine was in Niebüll, getting the Motorail train to Sylt. She came to a stop behind a Mercedes and, after the signal from the parking marshal, turned off the engine, put on the handbrake, and opened the sunroof. The sun shone in onto her face as she pushed back her sunglasses and closed her eyes. One week of vacation, Sylt, the List beach sauna, drinking wine at Wonnemeyer and Gosch, fresh fish, her parents, and—Richard. Despite her excitement she felt a little empty. She hadn’t seen Richard for four weeks and longed for him. It’s just that it wasn’t an unconditional excitement; everything was much too complicated for that.

  She had met Richard ten years ago in Berlin. At the time, he was working with her brother Georg for a TV channel, Georg as a sports journalist and Richard as a lawyer. In Christine’s memory it was love at first sight, but not without consequences. Both of them were married at the time, and it had been the wrong time to turn their lives upside down. A good five years later, they had come into each other’s lives again by chance. By then, Christine was divorced and living in Hamburg. Richard was living in Bremen during the week, where he worked, but was still married. In spite of that they began an affair. At first, it was easy to manage. Christine was still traveling as a rep then and often stayed overnight at Richard’s in Bremen during the week. His wife lived in Berlin and led her own life. Christine was surprised at how the woman didn’t seem to miss him; there were never visits or phone calls, and the relationship between Richard and Christine was left to develop in peace.