On New Year’s Day all the visitors left after breakfast. It was not Käthe’s style to go to the door with her guests. Whether or not they were family members, whether they had stayed the night or only an hour, they all had to open and close the door for themselves. Käthe was testing the dampness of her Rosa, a clay figure on which she was working in these winter weeks and which stood on the veranda, wrapped in pieces of cloth. The brim of Rosa’s hat kept breaking off. Käthe was annoyed by her inability to force the clay to do what she wanted.
As soon as she heard the door latch behind her departing family, Käthe heaved a deep sigh, said: L’ospite è come il pesce, dopo tre giorni puzza, and without another word set to work.
In spite of a second visit by the shop assistant from Erkner, this time Thomas’s recovery was slow.
He had become familiar with the pain of his skin over those weeks. Thomas wondered if there was a condition beyond loneliness and pain, beyond cold and the stars, a place where he wouldn’t be seen by anyone, wouldn’t taste piss in his mouth, wouldn’t hear anyone bawling in his exhausted ears, and wouldn’t have to be anyone’s poor boy.
On New Year’s Day he woke up without pain for the first time. Thomas wondered what they had paid the woman. He looked at his ruined skin and fanned it with his sweater. His nerves felt exposed, sometimes the wind cooled him, sometimes it burnt him.
Paid her? Ella shrugged her shoulders. No idea. Anyway, I didn’t give her anything. Perhaps she was asked to choose one of Käthe’s little reliefs?
No, seriously: what did Käthe give her?
The first time, Käthe said hello to her when she arrived and I said goodbye. And the second time Käthe wasn’t there at all. Don’t you remember, she was with her painter friends beside the lock that day? I spoke to the sales assistant, I let her in. So if that’s what you’re asking me, no, she didn’t get anything.
What sort of people are you? You can’t just ask the woman to come here and not give her anything.
You might have thought of that yourself. Ella wasn’t accepting a reproof. Anyway, she had doubts of the efficacy of the sales assistant. Guttlenuts Shatzlebrutz, she could work much better magic herself. How do you know she was the one who cured you? I did it: Guttlenuts Shatzlebrutz.
That’s pathetic. Downcast, Thomas shook his head. Whether the rash goes away entirely again this time or not, she started the improvement, twice. She has to be thanked. Thomas ran his hands through his hair. I’ll go there.
Look out of the window. It’s snowing, it won’t get properly light at all today. Maybe a real witch doesn’t accept payment, hmm? She can make you better by magic if she wants to. Maybe taking money is against her honour?
Then I’ll send her a thank-you present. Thomas brought out the cardboard box in which he kept the bracelets and rings he had made himself from under his bed.
Are you crazy? You’re not going to give her that bracelet, are you? Don’t you remember, that was the one you promised to me?
Dismayed, Thomas turned the bracelet in his fingers. Did I? He seemed to have something on his mind. Sometimes I feel afraid I’m forgetting things.
You mean you hope you are. Ella laughed. You hope you’re forgetting me. You’re not giving that woman any of those things. Or not unless you want to forget me.
But we must give the woman something. Are you sure Käthe didn’t give her anything?
I’ll just go and ask her, said Ella, walking out of the room. Käthe had been down in the studio all day, and hadn’t even come upstairs to eat.
Agotto was lying on the back stairs, wagging his tail. Käthe didn’t like to let him into the studio, because he disturbed her work.
Ella opened the door and went downstairs. What to some are happy dreams. . it wasn’t often that Käthe listened to pop songs; perhaps she hadn’t been in hearing distance or had changed the radio station by accident. . what to others. . Before Ella reached the bottom step she could see Käthe’s bare breasts hanging down to the floor, heavy as melons, almost as if she were mopping up dust with them. . hard cash means . . Freddy Quinn, ‘La Guitarra Brasiliana’, Käthe on all fours, head down, backbone slightly bent, naked and grunting. Behind her knelt a man whom Ella didn’t immediately recognise. Shocked, she went up the stairs again backwards, step by step, without turning round, quietly, making as little noise as possible, she opened the door and closed it behind her. Agotto jumped up at her, licked her hands and whimpered.
Well, what does she say? Thomas came into the kitchen, went past Ella and over to the larder.
Nothing, she’s grunting.
What?
Ella followed Thomas into the larder. She’s grunting. Go and see for yourself. She’s crouching on all fours and grunting, along with a naked man. Ella laughed, and made a graphic gesture with her hands.
Thomas raised his eyebrows; he didn’t look at Ella’s hands, he looked into Ella’s eyes. He felt uncomfortable. Aren’t there any apples left?
All sold out. There may be some more in spring. But there’s dried apricots, sweet and juicy. Ella climbed on the narrow stool and reached purposefully for a tin on the shelf. Käthe keeps them hidden from us up here. Before she climbed off the stool she opened the tin and handed it down. Thomas took it. You don’t mind maggots, do you? There are a few little maggots in there, but they have to live on something too. She ought not to have said that, she knew as soon as the words were out of her mouth. After all, maggots were living creatures.
In revulsion, Thomas gave her the tin back.
Do you want to save the maggots? No? Ella took an apricot out and put it in her mouth. Delicious.
Thomas turned away. I’m hungry.
They had spread newspaper on the big table in the smoking room and peeled the wrinkled, softened potatoes as well as they could. Where they were sprouting, Ella broke the sprouts off.
Potato soup for the New Year.
Go over to Michael’s, I’m sure they’ll give you a cut off the joint there. Ella threw a piece of potato peel at Thomas’s head.
Thomas threw one back at her. Not today, the whole family is visiting.
Well, aren’t you part of the family? Ella pouted, making her mouth look like a beak, and pretended to be sympathetic.
Not entirely.
Ella picked up each peeled potato separately, examined it, and cut out the dark eyes with a knife. Nightshade, she said, and repeated the word, nightshade. Potatoes belong to the nightshade family. You know everything, why are they called that?
Good evening. Käthe’s fluting tones were accompanied by the barking and whining of Agotto as he stormed in. The way he licked their hands reminded Ella of the naked man down in the studio.
Ella craned her neck to see whether anyone was following Käthe. But there was no one else, the door latched, Käthe sat down.
Why are you two in such a dismal mood?
We’re not in a dismal mood, just wondering what there is to eat today. We found some potatoes and that was all. They cut the potatoes in pieces.
Oh well, then one of you must go shopping. And do some work, right? Käthe was rubbing her hands, but there’s time for that.
Ella rolled her eyes.
I have some good news. Listen to this.
What?
Roguishly, Käthe looked from Thomas to Ella and back again. Thomas can’t possibly go back to Gommern again. He’ll just fall ill, and that won’t do.
Ella and Thomas looked at Käthe in surprise. She took her time, the pause lasted too long.
Then what? Thomas uttered a nervous laugh.
I’m not really allowed to talk about it. You must promise me that this will stay between us. Promise?
They were to be Käthe’s accomplices. Promise, said Ella and Thomas in unison.