by Simone Vlugt
‘Don’t do that, meany. You’re not allowed to have a knife. I’m going to tell on you.’
My smile disappears and I feel my headache returning. I float in the warm water, my eyes closed, and massage my temples.
Something is miaowing in the bathroom. I start, still not used to the new ringtone on my mobile. I think about letting it ring, but finally grab my phone from the bathroom cabinet.
‘Lydia speaking.’
It’s Thomas and I’m so surprised that he’s calling me that I forget to speak. He says Elisa told him he should call and apologise for taking photos of me this morning.
‘I had to do it,’ he says, defensively.
‘Who made you? You’re a freelancer, aren’t you?’ There’s no compromise in my voice.
‘In a way, yes, but I do get commissions,’ Thomas answers. ‘When I left the house I had no idea it was about you. I’d just heard that there was trouble at one of the local schools. I only got the details later from the journalist who’s writing the piece.’
I don’t know what to think, but I give him the benefit of the doubt. The damage is already done.
Thomas misinterprets my silence and says, ‘Well, I just wanted to say it. Maybe you don’t believe a word of it but that’s not my problem. Here’s Elisa for you.’
I get my sister on the line who suggests we go out for dinner. I don’t feel like it, but it’s more appealing than staying in and brooding. I could ask Jasmine to have Valerie over to dinner at hers.
‘All right,’ I say. ‘But I have to make some arrangements for Valerie first.’
‘I can come and get you at half past five if that works.’
I call Jasmine and arrange for Valerie to eat there.
‘She can stay over too, otherwise you’ll have to come home early,’ Jasmine says. ‘Jennifer would love it, I’m sure.’
Soon I’m outside Jasmine’s front door; Valerie has a small case with her. Jasmine opens up and Valerie rushes in to find Jennifer. I set Valerie’s case down under the stairs.
‘You go and have a nice dinner,’Jasmine says. ‘I’ve been thinking for ages that you don’t go out enough. Raoul comes and goes but you’re always home alone with Valerie. Is Raoul getting back late today as well?’
‘Yes, that’s how it’s been recently.’
‘I saw him at the weekend in the Euromast restaurant.’ Jasmine leads me into the sitting room, where the girls are already getting puzzles out of a cupboard.
I nod. ‘He had to meet a customer on Saturday.’
‘It was Saturday. Lydia, he was with a woman, a very beautiful woman.’
I know her well enough to realise that she’s not telling me this without reason. The room full of furniture and other possessions seems to heave for a few seconds, but my face remains impassive.
‘He does have some female customers. Women are doing well in business. The days are gone when only men could get into top positions. Eve is waking up!’
I force a laugh, until I see that Jasmine is giving me a sympathetic look.
‘Can you describe her in detail?’ I ask.
‘I’m not sure anymore. Now I come to think about it, she was wearing a scarf wrapped around her hair. That was something odd, I thought – who wears a scarf like that these days? But I didn’t really get a good look at her.’
You’ve got to be kidding, I think. You almost fell over yourself trying to see who Raoul was with. Otherwise how do you know that she was so beautiful?
I don’t say anything. Jasmine is a good friend, but these are the kinds of things I don’t find easy to share. I bend down to say goodbye to Valerie.
‘Bye-bye darling, Daddy will fetch you tomorrow morning and take you to school. All right?’
‘All right, bye Mummy!’
Two small arms wrap around my neck, I get a wet kiss and then she’s back with the jigsaw puzzles. Thank god for children who part from their parents easily. On one hand it feels like a small stab to a mother’s heart when they let you go without looking up, but it can also be very handy.
Elisa
53.
We don’t talk for a few seconds, we just stand there. Then Sylvie begins to laugh.
‘I want a lawyer!’ she cries. ‘I’m standing trial in my own house, who’d have thought it?’
I give her a stern look and wonder how I’m managing to stay so calm.
Sylvie smiles as she picks up her glass and takes a sip. When I don’t speak, her expression turns circumspect. ‘You mean it, don’t you? You really think I murdered Lydia. Jesus, Elisa!’
‘You have a motive,’ I say.
‘You do too,’ Sylvie counters. ‘You’re crazy about Raoul. Don’t think I don’t know it.’
‘But I know that I didn’t do it.’
‘Oh, so I did it then. Funny logic.’
‘Not that funny,’ I comment, ‘given that the bullet found in Lydia’s head came from your stepfather’s service weapon. There has to be a connection.’
Sylvie looks at me through half-lidded eyes. For a moment she looks just like a cat, then her face relaxes. ‘What’s that got to do with anything? What are you talking about?’
‘You’re not going to deny that Hubert Ykema’s your stepfather, are you?’
‘My mother’s boyfriend,’ Sylvie corrects.
‘No, your mother’s husband. They got married, but that’s irrelevant. Years ago, fifteen years ago to be precise, Hubert Ykema reported his service weapon missing. It was a Walther P5, the gun used to kill Lydia.’
I pay close attention to Sylvie’s reaction. She turns pale, but recovers quickly.
‘Oh, is that what you were looking for? Aha, now I see! You didn’t look very well, doll.’ Sylvie pulls open a drawer in the dining table. I’d never realised that there was a drawer on that side of the table, let alone what Sylvie kept in it.
One moment she’s opening the drawer and the next there’s a gleaming black pistol in her hand. I stare into a dark round hole. I forget to breathe. I don’t blink. I stare at the barrel of the gun. It’s the same barrel Lydia looked down a few seconds before she died.
My eyes search for Sylvie’s and plead for her to remember our friendship, which has been long and deep.
Sylvie closes one eye, looks along the gun and says, ‘Pow!’
I recoil – I can’t help it – and she laughs and puts the gun down on the table beyond my reach.
‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘That wasn’t very nice.’
I take a deep breath, tighten my muscles and relax them again. Meanwhile I keep a close eye on Sylvie’s face. She’s acting strangely, with a kind of forced light-heartedness – she’s definitely not herself. Anyone else would have been furious to find an intruder in their house and then to be falsely accused of murder.
I study Sylvie. Her blue eyes are clear and challenging; she’s not going to admit anything.
I sigh and feel my fighting instinct subside.
‘Why? Why did she have to die?’
Sylvie shrugs. ‘How should I know? I didn’t have anything to do with it.’
‘Who did do it then? Raoul perhaps?’ I laugh.
But Sylvie shrugs again and says, ‘Who knows. They didn’t have a very violent relationship though, and he was under her thumb, both financially and emotionally.’
‘It wasn’t that bad,’ I snap. ‘They may have had a few problems, but Raoul didn’t have a reason to murder her. If he’d wanted to get rid of her, he could have divorced her.’
‘But that would have cost him his capital,’ Sylvie reminds me. ‘Lydia owned almost half of the shares of Software International. Even the house was hers. It was given to them by your parents, but it was in her name.’
‘You seem to know a lot about it,’ I say.
‘What did you expect? I also know that he was in love with you for a while. I had difficulty with that but, oh, I knew that you didn’t stand a chance. Raoul finished it a few times, but he always came back. He can’t live without me.’
/>
‘How did it start?’ I don’t really want to know, but another part of me is desperate for information.
Sylvie pushes away her plate and leans back with her glass of wine. ‘How did it start?’ she reflects. ‘I knew Raoul from your birthday parties, but I really got to know him in the gym. We both went two evenings a week and soon we were exercising together and having a drink afterwards. I was going through a rough patch at the time, do you remember? That was when Joachem had just dumped me. I poured my heart out to Raoul and he consoled me. You know what Raoul is like, he can be so sympathetic and kind. He can make you feel like you’re the only person in the room. He got me through that patch, but he did more too, he gave me self-confidence.’ Sylvie takes a sip of wine and smiles at me. ‘I’ve never suffered from a lack of male attention,’ she continues, ‘but it was not the kind of attention I was looking for. Nobody ever took the trouble to look further, to get to know me as a person. Raoul did and that was what made our relationship so unusual. I was sure that I’d found someone who wouldn’t let me down.’
‘Raoul,’ I begin, choosing my words carefully, ‘is the kind of man who gets to know everyone properly. He’s interested in people, and particularly in women.’
Sylvie’s eyes become slits. ‘And particularly in me. He wanted to leave Lydia. He promised me he’d leave her.’
‘But he didn’t. Is that why you killed her? Were you tired of waiting?’
Sylvie looks around the room, her gaze fixed on a past I’d never known about.
‘You planned to steal Raoul off her right from the start,’ I say, in an attempt at provocation. ‘And you were prepared to go to extremes to get him. Isn’t that right? Tell me I’m wrong.’
Sylvie gives me such a fierce look that my fear returns.
‘Can’t I,’ she begins, full of restrained anger, ‘can’t I have some happiness in my life? Can’t I fall in love for once and get the man? Do you know what it feels like to be dumped again and again? To have everyone abandon you?’
Sylvie turns away, her lips a tight line. I lose my patience. I throw myself at my former friend, grab the pistol from the table and turn it on her.
‘Admit it! You murdered Lydia!’ I scream, beside myself with fury. ‘How could you, Sylvie?! How could you do that to her? How could you do that to me?’
‘I didn’t kill her, you bitch!’ Sylvie screams back. ‘I keep trying to tell you that!’
‘And I’m supposed to believe that? But it doesn’t matter at all what I believe. The police will decide!’
‘You don’t have any proof,’ Sylvie says.
I walk backwards to the door, getting my bag and coat on the way, the gun pointed at Sylvie the whole time. Sylvie gets up and follows me.
‘Stay there!’
‘As if you’d be able to shoot,’ Sylvie laughs. ‘Come on, Elisa, one day we’ll look back on this and find it funny.’
‘Do you see me laughing? I said, stay there!’
I raise the gun and point it at her chest.
‘You don’t even know how it works,’ Sylvie says, but she doesn’t move. ‘Go to the police, kid. Make yourself look ridiculous. There’s not a single shred of evidence, before you know it I’ll be free again.’
I walk backwards into the corridor. ‘Do you think so? This gun is sufficient proof, Sylvie, and I’m going to take it straight to the police.’ I see a flash of panic in her face. I pull the door shut, run down the stairs and tug open the front door. I run smack bang into a man outside. He grips me by both arms and holds me tightly. I begin to scream and try to break free, until his voice reaches me at last.
‘Calm down, Elisa! What’s happened? Hey, it’s me, Thomas! What have you got there?’
I look in confusion at Thomas’s worried face. Thomas, dear Thomas, always there when you need him the most. I glance at the pistol and then at the front door to the building, as if I’m expecting to see Sylvie appear with a bazooka. But the door remains closed and there’s no sound of running footsteps in the stairwell.
‘What’s happened?’ Thomas repeats and strokes the hair away from my burning face.
‘I’ll explain in a minute. Did you come in the car?’ I fluster.
Thomas nods and points at his old white Opal parked a little further up. I run to it, leaving Thomas no choice but to run after me.
‘Now what is…’
‘To the police station,’ I pant. ‘Quick!’
Thomas starts the engine and as we drive along the Essenburg Canal, I glance up at the second floor, at Sylvie’s apartment. She’s at the window, her arms folded, watching us.
54.
Giving my statement takes a long time. Inspector Noorda is not there, but they call him to say that the murder weapon has been found. When he finally appears, the paperwork has been completed and I have to retell everything in great detail.
I filled in Thomas in the car and learned that I was right, he’d never had a relationship with Sylvie. When we arrive at the police station, he is still in shock. I am too. But another emotion is breaking through my anger: grief. Sylvie. Why did it have to be Sylvie, the only girlfriend I’ve ever had?
‘So if I understand correctly, Ms Roelofs stayed behind in her apartment when you fled,’ Noorda says.
‘Yes, but I don’t know if she’s still there.’
‘There’s every chance she’s gone.’ Noorda gives orders for a car to be despatched to the Essenburger Canal right away. ‘With a bit of luck, Ms Roelofs will be brought in shortly. I’d like to have a little chat with her, and with Mr Salentijn too, as it happens.’
‘Will Sylvie be arrested?’ Thomas enquires. I register the surprise and pain in his expression and I don’t blame him. I feel the same.
‘Not directly. First we’ll have her in for questioning, and depending on what transpires, we’ll decide whether to keep her in or not,’ Noorda explains.
‘I don’t want to be here when she arrives,’ I say.
‘We’ll take you home and keep you informed.’
Thomas and I stand up.
‘I’ll take her home,’ Thomas says, and glancing at me, he adds, ‘And I’ll stay with you. You can’t be on your own.’
‘I’ll manage,’ I say. If I need anything right now, it’s to be left in peace and quiet. And I need Raoul too, but it would be insensitive to say that. Thomas’s eyes have the hopeful look of a knight protector who can’t wait to rescue the princess and shower her in love. That’s not what I need; not from him, in any case.
‘You don’t need to stay with me, Thomas,’ I say as we get into the car. ‘I’ve got a terrible headache.’
‘Then you go off to bed and I’ll sit downstairs,’ Thomas suggests as he drives away from the police station.
‘It’s not necessary.’
‘I think it is. Next thing you know Sylvie will be outside your door.’
‘I’ll lock the front door. She’s lost her gun, she can’t do anything.’
‘I wouldn’t count on it. I think she’s crazy, and crazy people are unpredictable.’ Thomas drives along Pompenburg, towards Kralingen.
I rest my hand on his arm. ‘I want to tell Raoul about this and I need to have quite a difficult conversation with him. Could you take me to Juliana van Stolberg Avenue?’
Thomas’s face tightens. ‘If you want me to.’
I give him my sweetest smile. ‘You’re a dear.’
He smiles again, happy with the smallest scrap I throw his way. I sigh, my conscience heavy.
‘The thing I don’t understand,’ Thomas says, ‘is that you really believed I was going out with Sylvie.’
‘That was what she told me.’
‘And you just believed it!’
I shrug my shoulders and feel Thomas’s hand on mine. ‘
Elisa,’ he says. ‘You know there’s only one person for me, don’t you?’
I look down at my hand, embarrassed; it’s almost completely covered by his. Oh my god, he’s going to declare his intentions. De
ar Thomas, please don’t. Please just stay my most faithful and best friend. A few more words and our friendship will be destroyed. I don’t know if I could bear that.
Thomas must be telepathic because he doesn’t pronounce the words that could ruin everything. He does keep holding my hand until we turn into Juliana van Stolberg Avenue. He stops right outside Raoul’s door.
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘I’ll call you, all right?’
Thomas just nods.
I get out and go down the garden path. I turn around to wave to Thomas from the doorway, but he’s already gone.
‘What are you doing here?’ Raoul opens the door and kisses me on both cheeks.
‘I need to talk to you.’
Raoul leads me into the sitting room. It’s quiet, the volume on the television is turned down and Valerie is already in bed.
I stand in front of Lydia and Raoul’s wedding photo, which is in a silver frame on the dresser, and look at it for a long time. Next to it is a picture of Valerie as a newborn in her mother’s arms.
The pain of one particular memory shoots through me. I remember Valerie’s birth, how difficult it was and what Lydia went through to bring her daughter into the world. But afterwards she was happy, so happy. She lay in bed, weak from the blood loss, but I’ll never forget her expression when she looked at her baby. ‘A daughter. Just what I wanted. We’ll share so much.’ I look at the photo with a heavy heart.
‘What’s this all about?’
The pictures from Sylvie’s scrapbook flash through my mind, replacing the image of Lydia’s wedding photo. Bitterness courses through me. I take a step towards Raoul, and slap his face. ‘I know everything, Raoul.’
‘Everything?’ He rubs his cheek. ‘Everything about what?’
‘About your relationship with Sylvie.’
I see the shock in his eyes. He’s taken aback for an instant, but then he recovers. ‘I’m not having a relationship with Sylvie,’ he says.
The wave of anger washes colour into my face. ‘Don’t lie,’ I shout. ‘Sylvie told me everything.’
Raoul represses a sigh. ‘I’m not seeing Sylvie,’ he repeats, as he goes towards the bar. ‘Not anymore.’