Now I understand why he was so belligerent on the phone-in. It was the time when he had just got divorced and had been prevented from seeing his own children for months. He clearly loves them very much, his eyes brimming with tears as he talks in gushing terms about his two daughters. We order a couple more drinks and every now and then I notice that his hand brushes my knee. By accident or on purpose? I'm not sure so I pretend not to notice. From time to time, however, I notice people giving us sideways looks, and then I realise they've recognized me. Someone comes over and asks: ‘Excuse me, but is it possible I might have seen you recently on the television.’ I look up in surprise but Markus isn't short of quick-witted answers.
Despite his sad story, we get on well together and time simply flies by. It's only when the bar starts to empty at around two a.m. that we think of parting company, although neither of us is in a mood for going home. But it's that time. We go out into the cold snowy night. To get to our cars we have to make our way down a steep little alley, which is not easy for me in my plimsolls. Laughing, I slither into Markus and grab his shoulders to try to stop myself. He turns around and catches me in his arms. My heart stands still as I feel his lips next to mine. We pull back and look at each other in surprise and embarrassment. And then I climb into the safety of my car. Feeling completely confused, I roll down the window to say goodbye. He gives me a laugh and bends down putting one hand on my shoulder and says:
‘You're a terrific woman. Look after yourself and drive carefully.’
With that he turns round and gets into his own car. I drive off giving him one last wave. All the way home I'm an emotional mess. My heart is pounding but I don't know whether I want it to. When I finally get to bed I can't get to sleep.
Next morning I nip round to fetch Napirai from my mother's, then we have breakfast together and she tells me everything she did with Granny and Hanspeter. All of a sudden the phone rings. It's eleven o'clock, and when I pick up the receiver it's Markus:
‘Good morning, already up and about?’
I don't know what to say. I hadn't reckoned on him calling me today, but I can't help noticing how pleased I am. Napirai comes over and asks:
‘Mama, who is it? Mamaaaaa, tell me who's on the phone? Why are you laughing in that funny voice?’
I indicate to her that I'll tell later and she goes off into her room to play. We're on the phone for two hours. I can hardly believe there's a man who can hold such a long and interesting conversation! I only put the phone down in the end when Napirai comes up and says:
‘Mama, you're acting so funny! Tell me who it is that's on the telephone. Stop talking all this time.’
We say goodbye, although I let him know that I'm in Germany the coming week. Than I pick Napirai up and set her on my lap and tell her who Markus is and where I know him from and how we bumped into one another yesterday.
‘Yes, but why did he call again just today then? Is he your boyfriend now?’
‘No, I don't think so, or I mean, I don't know.’
‘I don't want you to have a boyfriend, Mama!’
I reassure my ten-and-a-half-year-old:
‘I don't have a boyfriend yet.’
That afternoon we go to Zurich zoo despite the biting cold. Then on the way home we spoil ourselves with chips and hot cups of tea. When we get back I stick Napirai in a warm bath. I've hardly sat down however when the phone rings. I can hardly believe it's Markus again, for the second time in one day. I tell him about our little excursion and he tells me he's been for a long walk on his own. He asks me if we'd like to go to the zoo with him and his children one day when they come to see him at the weekend. I don't have a problem with that as long as I can spare the time. We're on the phone for nearly an hour again before we eventually say goodbye. I haven't laughed as much in ages as I have with Markus.
The next day I fly to Düsseldorf. Before I leave the terminal, I spot some joke postcards on a news stand and on the spur of the moment scribble a few lines to Markus. I hesitate for a while before signing off with the line: ‘Somehow I've still got butterflies in my tummy — how about you?’ I pause for thought again before throwing it in the postbox: does that sound right? Am I just making a fool of myself? Oh what the hell, now or never, and the card's gone!
Immediately I'm less tense and I grab a cab to the hotel. Heaven knows this Markus is turning my head. And then the fortune teller's words come back to me. She said I'd already known the man for years. I never even thought of Markus, even if I had found him attractive at the school reunion. He was married. All I was thinking of was wishing I could find someone similar. I get the butterflies again and start asking myself: ‘Can it be fate?’
The reading that evening goes excellently and I feel on top of the world. Later, lying there in my hotel room, I really feel tempted to grab the phone and ring him up. But I don't want to overdo things and in any case I don't know how he feels about us. When we first started chatting, I got the idea that he didn't want to get involved with anyone else because having children only makes it complicated. It would take a lot of give and take on all sides, which is hard to imagine working, given that his children would always come first. That really came from the heart, but even still, how was it that we could talk for hours on end so easily and why was there such a spark between us? I can't wait to see if he gets in touch when I get back or if my crazy mixed-up postcard scares him off.
At long last I'm home again. My answering machine is full of messages but none of them are from Markus. Well, I tell myself, maybe the ones that hung up when the machine switched on were from him, but I can't help feeling disappointed. When I still haven't heard anything by Saturday evening, I decide to ring him. He sounds delighted to hear me, thanks me for the card with a laugh and says he would have called me the next day at the latest when he had taken his children back to their mother. Now I understand. He's had his children over. I'm hugely relieved.
The next week I invite Markus round for dinner. As I'm on the road all the time I really enjoy cooking at home from time to time. Napirai is staying over with the childminder for the evening as it seems far too early to introduce her to Markus. I've laid the table and made a prawn cocktail as a starter. Then I run round clearing things up in the flat and check my hair and make-up for at least the tenth time. Pretty but not too over-the-top. For God's sake, Corinne, you're acting like a teenager. The phone rings and I'm thinking to myself: something's come up, he can't make it. But no, he just can't find the street. I'm nervous as anything as I explain how to find the flat, and then before I know it, the doorbell's ringing.
I open the door and there's Markus running up the stairs from the external door with a bunch of roses and a huge smile on his face. We throw our arms around one another and have our first proper kiss, out there in the stairwell. We're both totally confused as I ask him in. He glances at the table laid for dinner in the living room and compliments me on it, but then says:
‘Are there prawns in that?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘It's just that they're the one thing I don't eat… sorry. But don't worry, I'm not that hungry, I'm just glad to be here. You won't get rid of me that easily tonight.’ And he takes me in his arms.
By the time he leaves the flat the next morning, I know I'm in love. I never thought I would experience anything quite so overwhelming again and am convinced either fate or God has thrown us together.