And yes, at night they slept together. That’s to say, she slept while he stared at her. She hadn’t once opened her eyes without seeing his gaze fixed on her. As a child she’d waited in vain for a protecting angel to stand by her pillow and watch over her dreams. Now, in her mid-thirties, an age by which all illusions have been dispelled, suddenly she had Hannes Bergtaler at her side.
Sex? Yes, of course – not as frequently as he would have liked, but still three times as often as more than enough. For her it was… well… no, it was just fine. He really enjoyed it. And she enjoyed his enjoyment of it, his enjoyment of her.
Was that bad? Was she narcissistic? Had she been using Bergtaler to find herself beautiful and desirable again? Had she needed him to make herself feel worth something again? How worthless must she have felt? How bad a shape had she been in without noticing? How happy did she feel now? How would it go on? And where?
No more answers came. The yellowy-white blocks went dark. Judith opened her eyes. It was just a small, harmless, fluffy cloud.
2
On the Friday before Whitsun Judith paid her first visit to his flat in Nisslgasse. He’d gone home hours before she arrived, to “tidy up”, as he put it, although she couldn’t imagine that anything in his life could be untidy, and certainly not his home.
He behaved rather oddly at the door and opened up hesitantly, as if he feared he might be plagued by unwelcome guests. When they were inside he locked the door and shot the bolt. “What’s got into you?” she asked. “My love for you!” he replied. “There must be something else; you’re very tense.” “You, in my flat – if that doesn’t make me tense, what will?”
From the way the flat was furnished she realised how little she knew about him and yet how clear everything was. Each object, including some dark antique pieces worth a considerable amount of money, had its own place and gave the impression it could not be moved. From his grandfather’s sofa you had a magnificent view of a monstrous ironing board, which was stationed in the middle of the room and illuminated by an energy-saving bulb in an ugly shade of milky-coffee-coloured chunks of glass. The kitchen was small and surgically clean, as in a catalogue. The crockery was hiding in cabinets out of sheer terror that it might get used. Judith just wanted a glass of water.
The only vibrant room, the only one that looked lived in, was the study. Only here could you get the sense that the tenant was an architect and not a retired trustee. There were plans everywhere: on the walls, on the desk, on the parquet floor. It smelled of pencils, rubbers and painstakingly detailed work.
The door to the bedroom was closed and she’d have been happy for it to remain so. Hannes opened it, however, just a crack, as if to avoid waking the two single beds with their checked quilts, flanked by bare tables, from their thousand-year sleep. A white full moon hung from the ceiling. As Judith knew, sphere lamps never did justice to their light.
“Lovely,” she said at thirty-second intervals. “Not everything’s my taste exactly, but really lovely,” she dropped in a few times. Hannes held her by the hand throughout the tour of his flat, as if she might stray into an inaccessible area or step on a landmine. “Have many women have come and gone here?” Judith asked. “I don’t know,” Hannes replied. “The previous tenants were a dentist couple.” He was a master of the art of misunderstanding questions which nobody could possibly misunderstand.
When the tour was at an end they stood for a while in the vicinity of the ironing board, unsure how the programme should continue. Soon his face assumed that unmistakeable Hannes look with the myriad sunny wrinkles of laughter. He hugged and kissed her. They staggered the few steps to the sofa. Just before they collapsed, Judith managed to squeeze out some words from their tight embrace. “Darling,” she whispered. “Shall we go to my place?”
3
“So, what shall we do at the weekend?” Hannes asked. Saturday was already an hour old; the light in Judith’s bedroom (bestowed by the playful brass chandelier from a young designer in Prague) was off. She was only just awake, her head on his tummy in her bed, and could feel his powerful fingers pleasantly massaging her head.
She sighed deeply, trying to sound as pained as she possibly could. “I’m afraid I’ve got to go to the country, to see my brother Ali. I have to be there. It’s a big family party. Hedi’s birthday. Hard work, let me tell you. She’s highly pregnant. And my mother’s going to be there, of course. I’ve told you, haven’t I, that Hedi and Mum aren’t a good combination. Tiresome. It’s going to be really rather tiresome.” She rounded it off with another sigh of resignation.
“We’ll go together,” announced Hannes from above. He had sat up in bed. Judith: “No, Hannes, no way!” She was startled by her own tone and softened it immediately. “Listen, Darling, I’ve got to do it on my own. It’s going to be exceedingly tiresome. I can’t ask you to come. You don’t know my family.” She stroked his hand tenderly with her nail. Hannes: “I’ll meet them and I’ll like them.” Judith: “Yes, of course you will, but not all of them at once, believe me, that’s too much in one go. My brother can be so tricky. And then there are friends of the family coming too, a couple with two children. It’s going to be pretty tight. No, Hannes, it’s very sweet of you, but this time I’ve got to bite the bullet on my own.”
Now they were sitting up side by side in bed, Judith with her arms crossed. Hannes: “No, Darling, that’s out of the question. I’m not going to leave you in the lurch. Of course I’ll come with you. Together we’ll work it out somehow, you’ll see.”
Judith didn’t want to work anything out together. She turned on the light; he needed to see the determination in her face. “Hannes, it’s not going to work. This time it really isn’t. There’s not even a bed for you. We’ll see each other on Sunday evening and I’ll tell you all about it. O.K.?” She stroked his cheek.
He said nothing and pulled a face she’d never seen before. Behind his tightly pressed lips he was evidently gritting his teeth, for his cheekbones were sticking out. Although the laughter lines around his eyes were still there, without the laughter they were no longer rays of sunshine, but shadowy furrows. Finally he turned onto his side and let his head sink into the pillow. “Good night, Darling,” he murmured after a long pause. “Let’s sleep on it.”
4
It was early, Judith had hardly slept, but she could smell coffee, and classical music was playing on the radio. Hannes, who was already half-dressed, bent over her, woke her with a kiss and beamed.
“Your mother called,” he said. “How come?” What she meant was, how come he knew, why had he gone to the phone and why hadn’t he woken her up? Hannes: “Your mother called and asked when we were going to pick her up.” Judith: “We?” That was an exclamation. Judith was wide awake and livid. “I told her I probably wouldn’t be coming along.” Judith: “Oh.”
Hannes: “What a pity, maybe you’ll have another think about it, she said. She’d have liked to meet me. My daughter’s told me so much about you, she said.” Judith: “And?” (She’d hardly said a word to her mother about Hannes, Mum always got all her men mixed up.) Hannes: “If you don’t want me to go with you, then of course I won’t. I don’t want to impose, I really don’t. Maybe you’re right, maybe it is too early for a meeting.” Judith: “Yes, it is.” She took a deep breath. She tickled his neck.
Hannes: “But I’d like to come. I like your mum. She sounds lovely on the phone. Her voice is like yours. I’d really like to go. It’ll be a nice weekend, Darling, you’ll see. I like your family. I like everything about you. Can I come?”
Judith laughed. He looked at her with the eyes of a well-drilled St Bernhard who’d just spotted steaks in her pupils. She tapped the tip of his nose with her index finger and kissed him on the forehead. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said.
5
After breakfast he left. He had some shopping to do. Judith caught up on her sleepless night. Late in the afternoon, as it began to rain, they drove together (in her w
hite Citroën) to her mother’s. “I’ll just dash up and you can stay in the car,” she said. He came with her. In his right hand he held a large purple umbrella; in his left a bunch of Whitsun roses, which he presented to her mother at the door to her flat with a theatrical bow. She took to him instantly; he was wearing the sort of clothes that had been fashionable in her youth. She embraced her daughter more ardently than usual, a gesture which signalled congratulations that Judith had finally found a man who was right for her – meaning her: Mum.
“So what do you do for a living?” Mum asked during the journey. Hannes: “I’m an architect.” Mum: “Oooh, an architect!” Hannes: “My small office specialises in refurbishing and building pharmacies.” Mum: “Pharmacies, how wonderful!” “Maybe he’ll build one for you,” Judith said acidly.
After two and a half hours they had reached the patched-up old manor house in the wastelands of the Upper Austrian Mühlviertel, where Hedi ran a small organic farm. Ali worked as a landscape photographer, but only rarely – the landscape really had to beg to be photographed. Material things were not so important to Hedi and Ali; they could even make do without hairbrushes and beard trimmers.
“I’m Hannes,” he said with the irrepressible euphoria he bubbled with whenever he met new people, thrusting his hand a little too keenly towards Ali. Judith’s brother flinched instinctively. “Hannes is my boyfriend,” Judith said, explaining both him and the situation. Ali stared at him as if he were the eighth wonder of the world. “He’s an architect,” Mum added, as her eyes wandered, beneath raised brows, from Ali to Hedi and back again. Hannes gave them a three-bottle box of organic wine from southern Burgenland. “The best from the region, at least I think so,” he said. Ali couldn’t stand wine. Judith wanted to turn around and go straight back home. She doubted anybody would have noticed.
The evening passed at a snail’s pace around the farmhouse table, beneath a dusty pseudo-rustic lampshade. Judith spent most of the time playing with wax from the candles in the silver holders in front of her, which melted and then went hard again. She made beautifully round balls, squashed them with her thumb onto the table top, scooped up the resulting discs with her knife and rolled them into balls again.
For practically the entire evening Hannes kept one hand on her knee, which gradually got warmer. He used the other to gesticulate as he held forth on architecture, love (for Judith) and the world in general. He was, by quite some stretch, the most loquacious and spirited person around the table.
There was only the odd altercation. Hedi was set on having a home birth with a Czech midwife, whereas Mum urged her to have the baby at Vienna General Hospital. It was much better equipped and certainly more hygienic, she said, flashing her eyes at Hedi. Hannes brought the discussion to a close by producing a present for the highly pregnant birthday girl – quite separate from the obligatory gifts of cash from the family – which he had obviously bought that morning: two romper suits, one pink, one light blue. “Because we didn’t know whether it’s going to be a boy or a girl,” he said, winking at Judith. Mum laughed. Ali remained silent. “It’s a girl,” Hedi said to Hannes. And: “We’ll keep the blue one for you.” Mum’s laughter turned into an expression of bliss. Ali remained silent. Hannes beamed. Judith gently removed his hand from her knee. She was desperate for the loo.
6
After dinner they were joined by the Winnigers. Judith had once been together with Lukas, her brother’s best friend – a nice, sensitive, clever man. He’d worked as a publisher’s sales rep in Germany, which meant he’d been exactly the opposite of Hannes: never around. But he gave up the job for Antonia, an English student from Linz, who looked as if she could be his twin sister. Then he’d accepted a post in the city library. Viktor was already eight, and Sybille six.
Despite the rain, Ali took the children into the garden to do some archery. Or perhaps he just wanted to wash his hair. Lukas diverted Judith’s attention from her balls of wax and engaged her in an intimate conversation about old times and new, about times which may have finished too early, or started too late. The wine from southern Burgenland was a perfect accompaniment.
At some point Judith noticed that there was no hand on her knee and thus no Hannes, either. After a long search she found him outside in the furthest corner of the garden, sitting stoically on a stump of wood and allowing himself to be showered by the rain.
Judith: “What are you doing?” Hannes: “I’m thinking.” He gave a sidelong glance that went straight past her. Judith: “What about?” Hannes: “You.” Judith: “What are you thinking about me?” Hannes: “About you and Lukas.” Judith: “Lukas?” Hannes: “Don’t think I can’t see it.” It was as if he was forcing himself to speak softly; his vocal chords sounded brittle. Judith: “What?” Hannes: “That he’s looking at you.” Judith: “You normally look at people when you talk to them, don’t you?” Hannes: “It all depends how.” Judith: “Hannes, no – please don’t! I’ve known Lukas for twenty years. We’re old friends. A very, very long time ago we were…” Hannes: “I don’t want to know about the past. Today is what matters for me. You’re embarrassing me in front of your family.”
She bent down and shot him a severe look. He was trembling, the corners of his mouth were in a twitching competition with his eyes. Judith took an ostentatiously deep breath, then spoke slowly and emphatically, as one does when explaining rules. “Stop, Hannes! Don’t be like that! I can hardly believe it. I was having a perfectly normal conversation with Lukas. If you’ve got a problem with that, then you’ve got a problem with me. I don’t put up with tantrums like this, I haven’t done since puberty, and I’m not going to start getting used to them in my mid-thirties.”
Hannes said nothing and buried his face in his hands. “I’m going back in,” Judith said. “And I suggest you do the same. It’s raining, in case you hadn’t noticed.” “Wait a minute, Darling,” he called after her. “Let’s go in together.” His voice sounded halfway normal again.
7
Judith was awoken the following morning by squealing, shrieking and sniggering from the garden. The blue sleeping bag at the foot of the guest bed was empty. Hannes must have come to bed after she’d already fallen sleep and risen before she was awake. Beside her pillow was a note with an irregular pencil-drawn heart and the message: “Darling, I don’t know what got into me last night. I was behaving like a fifteen-year-old. I promise you’ll never see me act like that again. Please forgive me. The only explanation I can offer is my undying love for you. Love, Hannes”
It was sunny outside. She could see him from the window, in sparkling form, besieged by the children. He lifted them up in turn and spun them around. Lukas and Antonia were standing nearby, joking with him. When he saw Judith he waved at her extravagantly.
Breakfast had already been laid on the terrace. “It seems we’ve had a visit from a night-time elf,” Hedi told Judith. The mountain of dishes had been washed up and put away, the floor swept. Hedi didn’t recognise her own kitchen; it hadn’t been that clean for years. Even the hopelessly encrusted oven was all of a sudden white again. “Could I hire Hannes during the week too?” she asked. Judith tried her best to give a hearty laugh.
Hannes dismissed the compliments. “When I can’t sleep, I like throwing myself into housework. It’s one of my eccentricities,” he said. “And anyway, Mum helped me with the breakfast.” She was sitting next to him, of course. He stroked her shoulder. “Oh, I just put a few cups out,” she said, rewarding him with a series of diva-like glances.
Later that morning, while Hannes was larking about with the children, Judith eventually managed to coax a few words from her silent brother Ali. He was now on the right dose of anti-depressants, he told her; sometimes he was even full of beans. He was really looking forward to the baby and swore to himself (and Hedi) that he’d be the perfect father. The only thing he lacked was regular work. There was no money to be made from landscape photography. He hadn’t studied anything else, unfortunately, and he seemed quite
happy to keep it that way.
“And what do you think of Hannes?” Judith asked. Ali: “He’s good at tidying up.” Judith: “What else?” Ali: “I don’t know, he’s awful… awfully nice.” Judith: “You can say that again.” Ali: “And he’s already practically one of the family.” Judith: “It’s crazy, it’s all happened so quickly.” Ali: “You’re different when you’re with him.” Judith: “How do you mean, different?” Ali: “Somehow, you’re just… half yourself.” Judith: “That sounds dreadful.” Ali: “Well, if you love him.” Judith said nothing, there was a pause. Ali: “Do you love him?” Judith: “I don’t know.” Ali: “Don’t you always know if you’re in love?”
8
Judith had been dreading the last part of the journey home. They’d already dropped off her mother. Hannes had carried her bag to the door of her flat. No doubt Mum was already filling out the forms to adopt him.
“Listen, Hannes…” Judith had to break it to him now. She didn’t want to spend the evening and night with him. In fact, she desperately needed a few days to herself. “To herself” was synonymous with “without him”. She wanted to feel “whole” again; she needed to win back the other half of her. Without the other half, being together with Hannes was inconceivable.
He interrupted her. “Darling, I’ve saved the bad news till the end. I put it off because today was so lovely, so harmonious, just how I hoped it would be. You’ve got a dream-like family. And your friends. And the children.” He sounded contrite.
Forever Yours Page 4