He’d given up his job as a pharmacy photographer. Judith: “Why?” Ali: “It was pure employment therapy. I couldn’t accept it anymore.” Hedi: “You know Ali, he’s got his pride. It would’ve been different if things between you and Hannes… well, you know.” Judith: “Yes, I know.” Ali: “Please don’t take that as a criticism.” He stroked her forearm tenderly.
Judith had already decided to drive back home that night. But then all of a sudden a surprise guest appeared, and gave her such a haunting, concerned stare that she couldn’t help crying. “How lovely that you’ve come to see us again, Judy,” Lukas Winninger said, as if he’d become a member of the family. He was not slow to speak his mind. “You’re in a bad place, aren’t you? You look so pale, your cheeks are sunken. You’re washed-out. Is there something the matter?” Judith: “You could say that.” For Ali’s sake she smiled. Lukas: “What’s up? Is it your boyfriend?” Judith: “Ex-boyfriend.” Lukas: “Did he chuck you?” Judith: “It’s a long story. You wouldn’t have time for it.” Lukas: “I’ve got all the time it takes.” “You don’t mind if I leave you two alone, do you?” Ali asked. To avoid an answer he gave his sister a hurried kiss on the forehead.
*
Judith didn’t wake up until midday. She had slept through without dreaming. Overnight the year had conjured up autumn and taken on smells that were not a bit reminiscent of Hannes. The sun reflected a cool orange in the open window-pane, similar to the light emitted by the red ceiling lamp from Krakow which hung in her showroom.
They had sat up for five hours, she and Lukas. “We’ll think of something,” were his final words. “WE’LL think of something.” He had promised her. And when she followed the aroma of the coffee there he was, leaning against the kitchen cupboard and offering her a cheery smile.
Her: “Do you live here?” Him: “Sometimes, on special occasions.” Her: “But Lukas, I don’t want you to…” Him: “Two sugars, no milk?”
4
Back in Vienna she swore she would declare war on Hannes Bergtaler, with Bianca at her side and Lukas bringing up the rear. How to be rid of his shadow? “By luring him into the light” (Lukas). All she had to do was wait patiently for him to turn up again. To demonstrate that she’d regained her strength, to provoke Hannes, to entice him out of his hideaway, she even put on his hideous amber ring a few times. “Is that a lucky charm?” Bianca said. Her: “No, it’s more of a weapon.” Bianca: “Well, I’d wear a knuckleduster too, boss.”
Two more weeks passed without any surprises from, or traces of, Hannes. From her level of anxiety Judith judged that it wouldn’t be long. This time she wanted to preempt him. “Why don’t we call him at his office?” Bianca suggested. Judith: “You’d do that?” Bianca: “Of course, I’m totally interested to find out what’s happened to him too. You see, I don’t believe he’s topped himself because of you. Men just say that to make themselves look important.” Judith: “And how would you react if he answered?” Bianca: “I’d say: Oh, sorry, I must have dialled the wrong number. He’d never recognise me. I’m epic at disguising my voice. I can talk like Bart Simpson.”
His colleague, Beatrix Ferstl, picked up the phone. Bianca: “Could I speak to Herr Bergtaler, please?” (It sounded more like Mickey Mouse than Bart Simpson.) “I see, so when’s he coming back?… On sick leave?” (“He’s still alive,” Bianca whispered to Judith. Then she continued in her Mickey–Bart voice) “In hospital?… What’s wrong with him… Oh, I see… Oh, blimey… Aha… No, I’m just the daughter of a friend of his… No, that’s not necessary. I’ll call back when he’s out of hospital… Er… when will he be out?… And which hospital’s he in?… Joseph. Right… With an f or ph?… O.K.… O.K.… Thanks, bye!”
“Well?” Judith asked. Bianca: “So, he’s in hospital – Josephsspital – with a mystery illness. He’s got to stay there for at least another two weeks and no-one’s allowed to visit him. But we wouldn’t want to anyway, would we?” Judith: “No, we wouldn’t.” Bianca: “Why are you looking so distraught? If he’s in hospital we’ve got our peace from him. Maybe he’ll fall in love with a nurse and you’ll be rid of him for good.” Judith: “A mystery illness – that doesn’t sound good.” Bianca: “Maybe he’s got bird flu. Or mad cow disease. Or even A.I.D.S. Eh, Frau Wangermann? Actually, I don’t think so. He’s not the junkie type, and he’s not gay either, is he? Bi at most, I’d say. But to be on the safe side you ought to get an A.I.D.S. test. I’ve had one done. They take a bit of your blood, that’s all. Doesn’t hurt a bit. You just mustn’t look. You see, when I look…” “Thank you, Bianca, you can go now. You’ve been a great help,” Judith said. “I’m really happy to have you around.”
5
On her way home after work, in the twilight of a windy autumn evening, Judith was seized by fear and uncertainty. In the hallway, as she waited for the lift, she imagined she could hear a groaning from up above. In a panic she left the building, joined the flow of passers-by, called Lukas and, in between sobs, told him of Hannes’ supposed illness and his stay in hospital, which contradicted her gut feeling and the groaning in the stairwell.
He could be in Vienna in two hours. “No, Lukas, that’s not necessary,” she said. Yes, it was necessary. And nothing she said was going to stop him. All Judith had to do was get through the next couple of hours. A fresh attempt, bold and braced for anything, brought her almost to the front door. But then she turned and dashed towards the underground station where the lights were brighter. Even out on the street she felt uneasy. An ambulance siren scared her to death. Perhaps they were bringing Hannes to her place, or, worse still, away from there.
She jumped into a taxi, called her mother, said she happened to be in the vicinity and asked whether it was alright if she popped by. “You still alive then?” Mum said, and quickly followed with “Of course, child, you know you can come round any time you like.” Mum looked dreadful, like someone who’d just been ditched by Father on good terms, and it went without saying that she, the daughter, was to blame. As punishment Judith had to read out to her the leaflets detailing dosage instructions and side effects of the medicines she’d been prescribed to combat blindness, heart attack, grief and so on. And yet: there was no mention of Hannes. Judith kept looking at the clock at one-minute intervals. “Are you going so soon?” Mum asked. “Yes, I’m meeting Lukas,” Judith replied. “Lukas?” At last, open criticism in the form of a name. “Why Lukas?” “Why? Because he’s a friend and because one sees friends from time to time,” Judith said acerbically. “Lukas has a family!” “Mum, I’m not discussing this with you now,” Judith replied, jumping up and slamming the door behind her. For a few minutes she stood outside, conscious of the miserable state she was in, then she rang the doorbell again. Mum opened hesitantly, her eyes were swollen. Judith fell into her arms and apologised. “I’m not in a good way at the moment,” she said. “Yes, I know,” Mum replied. There was a short, oppressive pause. Judith: “How do you know?” “I can tell just by looking at you, my child,” Mum replied.
6
They had arranged to meet at Iris. Lukas was already there, finishing a telephone conversation. In front of him a glass of Aperol, lit through by a candle. It lent his angular face a reddish-orange glow. When she approached him he put the palms of his hands to her cheeks, at once a gesture of protection and tenderness. Why couldn’t she have a man like this?
“You mustn’t worry, Judy, he really is in the Josephsspital,” he said. A Herr Hannes Bergtaler had been admitted there the previous Monday. The hospital was not at liberty to disclose which ward he was in, the reason for his admission or his state of health. This had been stipulated by the patient himself.
“Lukas, am I being paranoid?” Judith asked. “No, of course not.” Her: “So why do I think he’s in hospital because of me, and that because of me he doesn’t want anybody to know why he’s there.” Lukas: “Perhaps because it’s true.” Her: “Exactly, perhaps.” Lukas: “Perhaps is enough.” Her: “But perhaps he really is
seriously ill and needs my support.” Lukas: “Perhaps that’s exactly what he wants you to think, and as often as possible.” Her: “Perhaps.” Lukas: “Whatever, he’s forcing you to worry about him.” “And I’m forcing you to worry about me.” Him: “No, Judith, you’re not forcing me; I’m doing this of my own accord and I’m very happy to do it. That’s the difference.”
*
The difference lasted until closing time. Judith had drunk more than she could take. Lukas acted as if he’d stayed sober, despite all the Aperol and wine. A few times his arm slipped its way around her shoulder, but was immediately retracted. At any rate he took her mind off Hannes in a discreetly attractive or at least attractively discreet way. Occasionally they sighed or chuckled about their long-lost intimate past. What would Antonia say if she knew he’d abandoned his family and the countryside to follow his protective instinct, and had been up all night trying to comfort his paranoid ex-girlfriend in a dingy Viennese bar? She’d be fine with that, he assured her. “She knows how close we are, Judy. And she knows that I’d never abuse your trust.” “And hers?” Judith asked. “Definitely not hers,” Lukas replied. On his lips this sentence sounded more erotic than any whispered sweet nothings.
Together they lurched back to her flat. Their only physical contact was when they bumped into each other and attempted to say goodnight with a kiss on the cheek. “Do you want to come up? You can sleep on the sofa,” Judith slurred. No thanks, Lukas said, he was going to stay at the nearby flat of a colleague who was away, and in any case he could do with a bit more fresh air. He would wait until the light was on in Judith’s flat so he could be sure she’d got in safely.
Judith ignored the lift and staggered up the curved staircase. She stopped on each floor to be sure that she couldn’t hear groaning or any other noises. When she had reached the top, one of her senses told her that something was different from usual. Pre-emptively she took a deep breath so that she could scream quickly enough to confront its cause. But when she saw the card on her door she fell silent. With a black line around the edge and a cross in the middle, it had to be a death notice. She turned away in panic. She didn’t need to read the name, it had branded itself on her mind long ago. In haste she stumbled down the staircase, the steps rushing towards her. “Lukas!” she screamed. “What happened?” Finally she managed to open the front door. “I think Hannes is dead!” She collapsed into his arms.
It took her half an hour to calm down and a further half hour before she dared to go back inside and up to her flat, this time glued to Lukas.
“Helmut Schneider,” Lukas read from the card, as if he were choosing the only worthy candidate as winner. Judith had entrenched herself behind his back. “Judy, it’s someone else’s death announcement. Do you know Helmut Schneider? Do you recognise this face?” “My neighbour,” Judith murmured. “An old man… But what’s that doing on my door? I hardly ever saw him. Why, given the situation I’m in, is this announcement now hanging on my door? It can’t be a coincidence.” “I expect it’s hanging on all the doors,” Lukas replied. “Shall we check?” “No, I don’t want to check. I just want it to be hanging on all the doors. And I don’t want to be frightened anymore. I’ve had enough of being frightened. I want to sleep and have sweet dreams. And I want to wake up and think nice thoughts. Could you stay with me, Lukas? Just until it gets light? Please, stay! Just this once. You can sleep on the sofa in the living room. Or you can sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa. Or the other way round. Whatever you want.”
*
The following morning there were two sore heads. The coffee gave Judith a rapid boost. “Lukas, I think I’ve got to see him.” “Really? Is that a good idea?” “I’ve got to do it. Otherwise I’ll be seeing ghosts everywhere.” “What are you going to say to him?” “No idea. Doesn’t matter. Something. The key is that I see him. Then he won’t terrify me so much.” “Do you want me to come with you?” “Would you?” “If it makes it any easier for you.” “Maybe you could come by later and pick me up.” “If you like.” “Yes, I think that would be best.” “And how are you going to get in contact with him?” “I’ll give him a call, today or tomorrow.” “Judy, he’s in hospital.” “Oh, yeah, I forgot. Shit.”
PHASE EIGHT
1
September 24, seven in the morning. Her radio alarm switches on. First the weather. She gives a start. Low pressure. She pulls the pillow over her head. Black on grey. Come on Judith, think of something nice. Fast!
7.16: She is sufficiently awake not to want to wake up. No incentive. No reason to open her eyes. What is she missing? Is someone missing? Is she missing the man by her side, the protector who’s always there for her? Who takes her in his arms? Who caresses her. Who presses her to himself. Who covers her with his body. Who allows her to feel at the deepest level. Breathing and trembling for joy and excitement. Is it excitement that she’s missing? Has her passion vanished? Nothing but dark thoughts, black on grey?
She flees into the shower. Hot water. Steamy bathroom. Locked door. Nobody can get in. She remains alone with herself. In the mirror – thirty-seven years old. Beautiful woman with a beautiful face. Beautiful face with not-so-beautiful wrinkles of fear. Cover with make-up. Look right for the office. Ready for the daily routine. Away with the ugly woollen jumper, no-one will discover you beneath that. Into the once-tight jeans. They hang like an empty sack from your hips.
7.46: Thick, green autumn coat. The woman with the golden-yellow hair leaves the building. Look left. Look right. Deep breath. Well done, Judith! Rid of him. Shaken him off. You can go on. No need to worry. Just you. All on your own. Cool day, cold life.
7.59: On her knees outside the shop. Rummaging in her black handbag. Where’s the key? Surely she hasn’t. Surely he hasn’t. Got it! Lighting shop opened. Surprise? None! Deep breath. All lights on, quick. Coffee machine. Department store music. She warms her numb fingers beneath the oval crystal chandelier from Barcelona, her most beautiful piece. This is where it all began. Does she remember? What did she make of it? What became of her? Of her and him? Of him? Where has he gone, her pursuer? She can sense him, he can’t be far away. He’s there, sitting inside her. To where is he pursuing her? To where is she following him? Who was the first?
2
During the lunch break, as Judith dialled the number of Hannes’ office, she had to hold Bianca’s hand. (Bianca had fallen in love at the weekend and returned with red cheeks, and it was the first time Judith had seen her without makeup). Beatrix Ferstl answered. She spoke patronisingly, like a P.A. sitting on the lap of a boss who’s “not in the office at the moment, unfortunately”. Did she want to leave a message for Herr Bergtaler? “Is he no longer in hospital, then?” Judith asked. Hospital? Frau Ferstl hoped she’d understand that such confidential information of a private nature… “Could he ring me back today?” That would be difficult. But she’d be happy to pass on the number. “He’s got it.” Fine, but all the same would she be so kind as to… And what was the name? “Judith. Judith’s the name. We met once, in spring, in the Phoenix Bar. And a few weeks ago I do believe your colleague, Frau Wolff, was in my shop!” “Surname, please?” “He knows me!” “Judith…?” “Judith will do.” “Fine, Frau… er… Judith. But I can’t promise you anything…” “You don’t need to promise me anything. Just tell him to call me, that will do.” “What’s it about?” “It’s urgent!” “Excuse me, what’s it about, please?” “Me.”
3
On the evening of the fourth day that Hannes had not called back, Judith was invited to Gerd’s. Her other “past-life” friends were there too. Not only was there no specific occasion to celebrate, it soon transpired that there was no reason for the evening at all. When she arrived Judith realised that something wasn’t quite right with all of them – the same thing, in fact. Their handshakes were limp, their kisses as pointed as pinpricks. They gave her bittersweet smiles and spoke only in half tones.
“I’m so glad you’ve come, Judith,” Gerd be
gan dramatically, as if she’d risen from the grave. After a few empty phrases to fill the embarrassing interlude until the glasses of Prosecco were handed round, the conversation turned to the first teeth lost by Mimi and Billi, the children who were keeping Roland and Ilse together. Then Gerd’s bachelor pumpkin gnocchi were served, scooped, as usual, straight from the deep freeze into the microwave. Lara, who in the meantime had stopped holding hands with Valentin and was now thumping him on the shoulder after every one of his sexist comments, complimented Judith on her beautiful violet dress, which went superbly with her shoes, asked what brand it was, which shop it came from, what price it was, what sizes it was available in, what range of colours, if it had been made in Taiwan, and whether it was actually worth making clothes in Taiwan and sending them to the rich Western world, what sort of wages and under which conditions Taiwanese clothes makers were… They ended up in the depths of the world’s misery. Logically the dress ought to have been ripped from Judith’s body.
When the evening appeared to be reaching its climax, Ilse, emboldened by slight intoxication, allowed herself to make a comment which she regretted at once: “I hear you’ve got a new lover?” Judith: “Me? Says who?” Ilse: “Oh, perhaps it’s just idle gossip. You know how people like to talk on a slow day. There’s obviously nothing to it.” “Which people?” As Ilse was having difficulty swallowing, Roland pitched in: “You were seen at Iris with a good-looking bloke, that’s all. Ilse’s just envious; she has to make do with me.” Some of the company attempted a smile. Judith: “Seen by who?” Roland: “Judith, please don’t get yourself into a lather. It’s all perfectly harmless. One of Paul’s colleagues was there. Do you know Paul? He and Ilse’s brother…” Judith: “Lukas is a very close and very old friend.” Ilse: “Judith, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to… It’s nothing, honest…” “What’s more, he’s a friend who’s around when you need him!” Well, that silenced them. And because they were all sitting there looking so beautifully shamefaced and watching her tears as if she were a weeping statue of the Virgin Mary, Judith continued, without lowering the volume: “By the way, what news of Hannes? You don’t need to behave as if he’s suddenly vanished off the face of the earth. How is he? What’s he up to? Where’s he hanging out?” “Judith, please, it’s really not a good topic at the moment,” Gerd said softly, desperate to sound calm. “What do you mean ‘not a good topic’? I haven’t been able to think of a better one for months!” “None of us have seen him in ages,” Valentin said, sounding offended. “Are you happy now?” No, furious. “You can meet him as often as you want. You can go on tennis camps with him, you can share a flat, your lives, anything else you want with him. But please, don’t beat around the bush when his name is mentioned. So, what’s wrong with him? Why is he or why was he in hospital? What ominous illness does he have?” “Hospital?” muttered Valentin, surprised. And even more quietly, “Illness?” “My dear Judith,” Gerd said. She shrugged his hand from her shoulder. “All Hannes wants is to forget you. He’s working hard at it, believe me. And he wants you to forget him. He knows that’s best for both of you.” “He’s even toyed with the idea of emigrating,” Lara added. “A splendid idea,” Judith replied. “Why doesn’t he?” Lara: “Why are you being so mean, Judith? What’s he ever done to you apart from love you?” Judith: “That’s what he’s done!” Her index finger went from one person to the next. “And that.” Now she pointed to herself. “And let me tell you, he’s still doing it.” They stared at their empty dessert bowls, and soon afterwards the door behind them slammed.
Forever Yours Page 9