‘Thing is, Lars, this is big.’ His hands gestured wildly. ‘It moves everything to a new level. The sky’s the limit,’ he said, rubbing his hands. ‘If we don’t do it, someone else will.’
Hans started laughing in agreement. Elli’s breast started to redden under the onslaught.
Lars felt sick. His head was in a million pieces. He stared directly in Hans’s face and jabbed his forehead with his finger. ‘Stop fucking around so much. The girls are getting riled.’ He looked particularly at Hugo. ‘And just quit with this shit,’ he said with a ferocity he didn’t expect.
Hans just sniggered at Hugo. They were like a couple of girls talking themselves up. Hans could dream all the plans he wanted to, but he didn’t have the lead in his pencil to get the serious stuff done. That was his niche.
The hidden CCTV camera caught him striding off, jaw set and fists clenched. Fight or flight, his system was awash with adrenaline. He couldn’t just walk it off. What he really wanted was release: a sickly-sweet kill with more blood than he could drink.
After Lars left, Hans’s shoulders slumped. He seemed to deflate. His fancy clothes made him look like a kid in his dad’s jacket. His face looked utterly drained. Elli started to nibble his ear, but he pushed her hand away. Hugo looked on, worried.
But suddenly Hans seemed to become animated again. He stood up, almost falling, and roughly gestured for Hugo to come with him.
‘I know what we need! Let’s go test drive the two new girls I just hired,’ he said. Elli was dismissed with a wave of his hand.
The two of them strutted upstairs to the infamous Blu Club, where the girls were completely nude. Hans strode through the fancy mirrors and smoke and signalled to a couple of girls who were on the floor, dancing. One was black, with a full ass like a beautiful peach, the other a redhead with unbelievable breasts. Hans smiled and chatted coyly to both girls then led them by the hand to a private room. Hugo followed.
A few minutes later the frenzy of Hans and Hugo going at the two girls could be heard across the whole floor. They whooped and shouted like kids with a box of fireworks. Boys who didn’t want to grow up.
In Hans’s office, the camera was trained on the crate in the kill room. The footage wasn’t running live, but all the time it was recording something. Because it was pitch black in there, you couldn’t make anything out. But you could hear something: a gasp, a moan.
For once, Hans could not clearly calculate the next move.
Chapter
Eleven
Outside on the garage forecourt, Frannie was confronted by a new dawn. The changeling grey of first light already saturated the sky. She felt out of sync. The food had slowed her down; her body wanted to curl up, digest. The baby was kicking. But she had to find Dorcas quickly or she wouldn’t make it back before Kurt got up.
Frannie yawned. Another driver stared at her as he pulled in to fuel up. She knew she looked incongruous, a heavily pregnant woman at four a.m., but she had to do something. And, much as she hated it, her only contact to Tomek was Dorcas.
Frannie didn’t do maps; there was a navigation system in the car, but she had no idea how to start it. She thought she could remember the way to where Dorcas’s van was parked. If she just got on to the A2 and took the turning off after the airport, it should be just there. But of course, the thought of going on the Autobahn alone terrified her. It was a struggle to fasten her seatbelt. She felt awkward again in the car on the road on her own. Without Tomek as her guide, she shoved the gears around too much and the car fought her every move.
She kept on the middle lane on the Autobahn, pressing her foot down as hard as she dared. She was not looking forward to speaking to Dorcas, but she had to get it over with and get home fast before Kurt woke up, like a vampire needing to avoid the sun’s first rays.
In the slow lane, to her alarm, a steady trickle of trucks started to come up on the right of her. A lot of them preferred to drive in this ghost time, when the roads were relatively calm. Frannie started to sweat. She was tired and worried, hoped she could manage the drive.
Before she knew it, she was on the turn-off that led to where Dorcas was parked. This garage had a twenty-four-hour service station and the car park was surprisingly full. She balked: driving was bad enough, but parking was another matter. She drove round the spaces too fast in first gear and the car groaned. She wasn’t sure she had the confidence to get in and out of such tight spaces without someone to help her. Shit! It was such a drag that she had to think about every stupid little move.
In the end she parked next to a small Volkswagen but drove in crooked. The car stuck out at an extreme angle and she was totally unable to straighten it up. The more she reversed, and seesawed backwards and forwards, the worse it got. Sweating and swearing, she left it as it was, with the rear end sticking out violently to the right side. She’d only be here ten minutes.
She stepped out of the car and looked for the minivan. A different-coloured one was parked up just ahead. She went hesitantly towards the window with some cash to sweeten the deal. As she got nearer, she saw the familiar dark bob and imposing face. Dorcas saw her and narrowed her eyes spitefully.
‘Haven’t you had your baby yet?’ said Dorcas, shaking her head. ‘It looks as if it’s due.’
Just ignore her, Frannie said to herself. She took out the money and handed it to Dorcas without a word. Dorcas fell about with laughter.
‘What! You want sex?’ She sounded as if she was high. Frannie looked at her as neutrally as she could.
‘It’s Tomek,’ she began, doing her best to use all the right German. ‘He went to the club tonight but hasn’t come back. He was supposed to meet me at three a.m. So I wondered – this Hans guy, is he…’
‘What, dangerous? Aggressive?’ said Dorcas tersely.
Frannie didn’t know how to put her unease into words. She looked defiantly at the younger woman and, despite her feistiness, Dorcas paled. She shivered in the fresh morning breeze and hugged her knees. It was cold for her talking with the window down in such a skimpy bikini.
‘Hans is not what you think,’ said Dorcas in a bitter voice. ‘Anna got involved with him at the club.’ Her eyes looked spacey and she kept sniffing. She looked into Frannie’s open face and started talking in a little-girl voice. ‘Hans, you know…he’s…he makes people do things for him. No, not in that way.’ Her voice wound down. ‘He just makes you want the same things he does.’ She started moving her hands. ‘He picks you up, and you’re on top of the world… Then…’
She looked away. In the early morning light she looked washed out. Frannie saw that she had cut her lips and wondered how it had happened.
‘If I go to the club, will he speak to me?’ Frannie asked, stepping closer.
Dorcas jumped up nimbly and got out of the van. ‘Don’t do that!’ she cried, her face visibly shocked. ‘You’ll make it worse.’ She wagged her finger in Frannie’s face.
Dorcas’s toned legs looked unreal. As before, Frannie found herself mesmerised by the bikini. Today it was blood-red, with little silver pearls stitched on. The waist in between the two parts was just a sliver of taut flesh that dipped in unnervingly.
‘Look, nobody knows where Anna is. Even I don’t know what happened,’ said Dorcas. The two women just stood, sizing each other up. Dorcas absentmindedly took out a cigarette and lit it up. Frannie didn’t react.
Dorcas looked at Frannie carefully, as if it was the first time they’d really spoken.
‘I’ve been feeling curious about Anna too,’ she said, stroking her arms with her hands. ‘I’d like to know where she is.’ She was no longer looking at Frannie with animosity. Her eyes seemed drawn to her expansive tummy, as if she wanted to know what the baby inside looked like.
Behind them, the full yellow of the sun was now high in the sky and the sight of it made Frannie feel queasy. Her legs suddenly started to give way. ‘Can I just sit down for a minute?’ she said, almost forgetting her German. She was used to this. Some
times heavily pregnant women just conked out.
Dorcas looked horrified, but she opened up the back of the van so that Frannie could climb awkwardly inside. She lay down on the cleverly disguised mattress. Was she going to pass out? She burped. Dorcas’s eyebrows shot up. At that moment, their artificial line seemed absurd. Frannie gulped and, before she could stop herself, threw up a bit of clear-coloured bile on to the red blanket. The pungent odour was instant.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she said, trying to dab at it with a handkerchief.
‘That stinks!’ hissed Dorcas, her lips one thinly pressed line of red. ‘How am I going to work with customers in here?’
Frannie felt hot and uncomfortable. Miserably, she lay her head back and looked at Dorcas. ‘Well, I did pay you, so I am your customer!’ she said, grumpily, thinking, If the silly girl ever gets pregnant herself, then she’ll see. She looked at her watch. It was coming up to five. Bloody hell, she had to get a move on. She tried to stand up, and Dorcas took a hand to steady her.
‘Just lie down and rest. I’ll get a bottle of water from the garage,’ said Dorcas, in a snappy tone, although she obviously meant well.
‘Thanks; I just have to get back before my husband finds out I’m gone,’ said Frannie trying to push herself up.
Dorcas pushed a card with a startling photo of herself in a burlesque pose. ‘This is my mobile number. Call me tomorrow and I’ll see what I can find out.’
‘Do you really want to help me?’ asked Frannie in a surprised voice, attempting to climb down from the minivan.
Dorcas put out a hand to help. ‘We’re both women, aren’t we?’ She shrugged her shoulders. They exchanged a shy smile.
‘Thank you. I didn’t expect much,’ said Frannie, trying to find the right words in German.
‘What?’ said Dorcas sharply.
Frannie tried different words but couldn’t quite express the meaning and gave up. ‘Look, thank you, sorry about being sick.’ And she waved goodbye.
By now the sun was high in the sky and she could see that the Autobahn bristled with traffic, which whisked past the service station in frighteningly efficient queues. Shit. She’d stayed out too long. She just hoped it was worth it. Thinking of Tomek was the only thing keeping her going.
When she got back to her car, a bigger vehicle had parked next to her, leaving virtually no room. Her head felt hot and tense. It was going to be as tough as hell to get the car out. She could never figure out alone how far to move the wheel. Every time she reversed, she got closer to the other car and then she’d move back into her original position. After five minutes of sliding back and forth it felt as if even the car was on the verge of giving up.
Frannie felt like crying. Now she was exhausted. Kurt needed the car to get to work. Somehow she had to reverse out. She got out of the driver’s seat and tried to judge the distance. Just millimetres to spare, and from inside the car she could never work out her spatial position. In panic, she decided to pretend to know what she was doing and just hope for the best. She moved the wheel just slightly and let her foot off the clutch.
The car zoomed back and smacked into the car beside it with a dull thud. Frannie’s head was jerked back. She put the handbrake on, and, with a horrified feeling in her stomach, went to take a look.
The other car had a ladder hanging at the side, so it was unscathed. But Kurt’s Audi had a deep long scratch on the passenger side of the car as if someone had taken a sharp implement to it. In stark daylight, it looked dreadful. Frannie couldn’t believe her eyes.
Behind her, Dorcas came up, wearing a dress over her bikini. She examined the damage. ‘This your husband’s car?’ she said, sizing up the situation.
‘Yes, and he’s going to kill me,’ said Frannie, clutching her hand to her neck.
‘And he doesn’t know about your driving?’ said Dorcas, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
‘No, I’m not supposed to drive for medical reasons,’ said Frannie, moving her hand to her stomach.
‘OK, well, if he thinks you can’t, then he’ll never guess it was you.’ She laughed brightly. ‘He won’t see it when he gets in to drive it, so later he’ll assume someone did it while he was parked.’ Dorcas took a manicured finger and felt the depth of the scratch. ‘You want me to reverse it out?’
Frannie could have hugged her. Like a pro, Dorcas deftly drove out. They swapped places.
‘Let’s talk tomorrow,’ said Dorcas, giving her a wink.
Frannie gingerly pressed the accelerator and began the journey home. She’d never felt so humiliated in all her life.
The summer breeze danced through Dorcas’s open window. Long, pure white curtains flapped seductively. In a high, antique four-poster bed, she dreamed on. Her dark hair contrasted starkly with the expanse of mahogany silk that draped the bed on all sides. Splashes of rich colour came from the exotic flower collection that plunged the room with rich glorious scents. Dorcas cherished flowers.
She hung in between consciousness and sleep, not wanting to acknowledge the breeze that fanned her with little rushes of energy. She clung on to the slow not-knowingness. Moved her head further under the sheet. Better stay there. In her exquisite bathroom, with its marble-lined floor, she could visualise the candy-red box of the pregnancy test.
It was high up in the cabinet, hidden behind a bottle of a limited edition perfume. It was out of place with the cool, classic lines of everything else. She’d read that the first pee of the day was the best. When she got up, she had to find out. Today, it was possible.
Dorcas always woke up hungry. Her thin body craved. Just a little hit, a magic flash to kick-start the day. But the bag was empty. She usually saved a few lines of coke to snort first thing. Not enough to get high; she just needed to be functional. What she wanted was to catch the buzz without falling into an all-day binge.
She licked her finger and tried to dust off the last remnants, but the bag was done. Perhaps Lars might come over soon with some. He was such a lovely guy. It was a pity she wasn’t in love with him.
She lit a cigarette and paced around in her lace nightgown in search of coffee. Sat and tried to convince her body the only hit it needed was nicotine, but her hands were shaking. She was sat hugging her knees, admiring her cute painted toenails and her dainty feet. She loved being dinky and cute. Her bladder was giving her furious signals, but she ignored it, concentrated on making the cigarette last. Once that was gone, she’d need another distraction.
Then she made a full pot of coffee. She decided to hand-grind the beans she’d got as a Christmas present long ago. It was an irksome process. She got bits all over her hands and it didn’t taste any the better for it. She went to the bathroom, but before she could even open the cabinet she noticed that the sink badly needed cleaning and set to it with gusto. Lars always said she was a busy bee.
She could wait no more. She reached up for the test and pulled out the stick. Without another thought she sat down on the toilet and urinated on it. She left it on the side of the bath without looking at it and went out to smoke another cigarette. When the cigarette was burned right down to the tip she would go see. Although it was warm she was shivering.
She almost jumped out of her skin when the door buzzer went. She opened the door. A pair of brown twinkly eyes confronted her with a buoyant, ‘Dörchen!’
It was Lars, come to the rescue. She was so pleased to see him she gave him a quick hug.
‘Hello, darling,’ he said patting her on the back. His hands were full of marzipan pastries and bread rolls. He’d also brought some wild peaches and Parma ham. He was generous to a fault. They often had brunch or afternoon tea together.
She pulled him into the living room, which contained dozens of impressive bonsai trees and a bougainvillea flowering plant that was opulently purple.
‘I’ve already got a pot of coffee on,’ she said. She looked at him beseechingly, ‘But I need you to do something in the bathroom first.’ She pulled the packages out of his
hands.
‘You have a leak?’
‘No, not exactly.’ She just stared at him with big eyes. ‘I just peed on one of those pregnancy sticks.’ Her head looked down. ‘Can you go and see, and tell me what it says?’
Lars’s jaw dropped. He looked as if he’d been punched in the throat. Without a word he headed off to the bathroom and closed the door. For what seemed like minutes Dorcas bit her nails. The door stayed mysteriously shut. She couldn’t imagine what he could be doing. Normally he was so cheery.
‘Larsey,’ she called. She tried to open the door but it was locked. She tried knocking. Why was he being so silent? In desperation she tried to peep through the keyhole. Was he upset?
Eventually, when he opened the door, he was sitting on the side of the bath, trying to make sense of the instructions that he’d taken out of the packet.
‘What is it?’ she said, clenching her hands into fists.
‘Not sure,’ he said, shaking his shaved head. ‘Look, see, there is a line, but it’s so faint it looks nothing like the example on the packet.’ They crowded over it, trying to read some meaning into the indicator window. ‘Don’t know what to say, really.’
‘It’s faint, but it’s something, isn’t it?’ said Dorcas, her eyes wide with shock. She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, shit, shit.’
‘Never mind,’ he said, patting her shoulder again. ‘We can make a proper appointment and get the doc to check it out.’ They embraced.
‘I can’t bear it,’ she said. ‘I need a line.’
Lars automatically put his hand in his pocket but then stopped. He gazed at her drawn face. ‘Drugs and fags ain’t exactly the ideal breakfast if you’re pregnant,’ he said, his beady eyes staring down at her.
Dorcas wrenched herself from him. ‘Give me a sodding break.’ Her eyes twitched at him. ‘I don’t think you can have any idea of what it’s like to be me.’
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