It’s — Ella would have liked to explain how she had come by the blouse. It was true that she could find no explanation, but she was ready to think one up, anything.
Käthe interrupted her: I told you to keep away from my wardrobe!
Couldn’t she have found the blouse under the fuchsias, blown off the washing-line? It wasn’t me, Käthe, I found it in the garden –
Don’t pretend. You’ll take that blouse off this minute, said Käthe. Is this what it’s come to? I’m not having my own child steal from me.
Ella flung her fork across the table and jumped up. The blue of the plate annoyed her, she smashed it on the floor and stamped on the pieces. Here, she shouted, here’s your stupid blouse! How easily the fabric tore. Ella already had the thin silk blouse with its fine embroidery in her hand, she threw the scraps on the baking tray in the middle of the table. Before the potter could feast his eyes on her bare breasts, she ran through the door leading from the veranda to the dark house and slammed it behind her.
Silence in the smoking room, cool air in the corridor, peace in the day. Ella pressed down the handle of the bathroom door, but it was locked. None of the guests could have got past her — they were still sitting on the veranda. One of Käthe’s cardigans was hanging on the coat stand, and Ella put it on, so as not to stand there bare-breasted in the cold corridor. She was trying the handle of the door a second time when the floor behind her creaked. Alarmed, Ella turned round. Thomas was standing in the open doorway of his room. He looked tired and pale. Don’t, he whispered, Marie’s in there.
Marie?
The ward sister from the hospital.
Ella let go of the door handle and went a step towards Thomas. Only now did she reply to his whisper: You keep bringing her home these days. Is she your. .?
My. .?
Your girlfriend?
Thomas put his forefinger on Ella’s mouth. She’s married, he whispered. At that moment the door opened and the slender figure of Marie appeared.
We’ll get two or three hours of sleep, then we have to go back to the hospital.
In the middle of the day? Ella didn’t believe Thomas. The woman’s wavy hair lay on her shoulders, she wore a plain skirt, and greeted Ella with a little bob. Was she drunk or was she swaying with exhaustion?
Because of the epidemic. Thomas must mean the dysentery. Ella pretended not to know what he was talking about. It’s been a long night, we worked until midday. Don’t tell anyone we’re here. Thomas took Marie’s hand, put his other arm round her shoulders and guided her into his room. We have to be off again at six. He closed the door.
Ella stood in the dark corridor, wondering, poffletoffle, whether simply to go in after them, open the door to Thomas’s room, snipsnap, be there if he wanted to get some rest with this Marie. Would Ella be in the way?
In the bathroom, she put her mouth down to the tap and drank water from it. With an air of decision she went down the corridor, opened the door to Thomas’s room without knocking, and asked: Have you seen my maths book anywhere?
Sorry, no, said Thomas, who was kneeling on the rug in the middle of the room. Marie was sitting fully clothed on the bed, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. They were reddened, her black mascara was so smeared that Ella wondered if she was crying.
Please. Thomas stood up and went over to the door, put his hand on Ella’s arm. Please, he whispered quietly, leave us in peace.
Just as you say, replied Ella, annoyed, anything you like. If I can’t find my maths book I can’t study. And if I can’t study, I’ll never pass the exams, and it will be your fault, and –
Please. Thomas took a firmer grip of her arm to make her let go of the handle and leave the room. He gestured urgently to Ella. Just for today, I’ll look for your maths book tomorrow.
Let go of me! Ella screamed, swung her arm back and then up in the air. She left it there for a second, two seconds, she could hit Thomas with his tired, angelic face if he went on waiting like that for her to leave him alone with this Marie. Then her arm dropped; Ella felt embarrassed in front of the weeping woman sitting on the edge of Thomas’s bed. She went away.
Down by the Fliess Ella took off her sandals, turned up the legs of her trousers, and slipped down the sand on the little slope. The water was still cold, she waded along by the low bank. Myriads of tadpoles moved apart and swam away.
She tried to catch some with her hands, but the tadpoles were quick. A bicycle bell rang over the meadow. Someone was waving. He swung his arm in a circle like a windmill and pushed the bike over the soggy ground of the paddock with his other hand. Ella made out that she hadn’t seen him. She turned her back on Siegfried, bent down and held her hands in the cold water. When she bent down she was hidden, the slope to the riverbed protected her. The cardigan slipped over her wrists and its sleeves got wet. Ella waded faster, maybe she could reach the other bank and run away. But the river was deeper in the middle, and her trouser legs were already wet.
There you are at last! Siegfried had reached the sandy path that ran along the top of the slope. He let the bike fall in the grass and slid down the shallow slope to Ella.
You’d vanished off the face of the earth. He took his shoes off, took his old cap off his head, and waded through the water to Ella. Maybe he wanted to kiss her, but Ella turned away.
Where’ve you been these last weeks? There was a greasy shine to his leather jacket.
Working. Ella bent down and tried catching tadpoles again.
Why didn’t you even answer me? I came to your place lots of times and left notes for you. Didn’t Käthe pass them on?
Ella went after a little shoal of tadpoles, the water splashed up, she nearly slipped. The loosely knitted cardigan was wet all over now, and pulling heavily down. But Ella didn’t mind cold water. What notes?
Letters and messages. I thought it would be nice for us to meet, I suggested times. Siegfried’s eyes lingered for a moment on the place where Ella supposed he saw her breasts, small, pointed breasts, they could be standing out under the dripping wet cardigan.
I thought we could go dancing together at the May Club. Siegfried tried to hold Ella’s arm, but she quickly swerved aside.
She had caught a tadpole, lifted it out of the water and examined it. You could already see tiny stumps on its sides that would grow into legs. It’s over. Ella looked brightly into Siegfried’s pleading eyes.
That can’t be what you want. Siegfried touched her hair, looked with admiration at her ponytail, the slightly backcombed lift of the hair above her forehead.
Ella threw her handful of water with the tadpole up in the air, as if setting a bird free to fly, and the water splashed, making Siegfried step back. She wasn’t smiling. What I want is my own business.
Horror showed on Siegfried’s face. Dominique! He reached his hand out to her, clumsily. Ella thought of a jumping jack, but her expression was serious, with an iron gravity.
Have I done something wrong? Getting no pity, he gave himself some. He stooped his shoulders, his head fell forward, his hands crushed the crown of the Marlon Brando peaked cap into a small ball. There was a tearful note in his question: Tell me, what did I do wrong?
Nothing. I don’t love you, that’s all.
You. .? His pitiful grimace showed that he didn’t doubt what she said. He was going to shed tears any moment now. Is there. . someone else?
Ella didn’t want to see it, she wanted to turn round and catch tadpoles. What was this boy thinking of? How did he come to be asking her such questions? Were they married, engaged, promised to each other? Just because they’d sometimes played at husband and wife? Because she had made up her eyes like Brigitte Bardot, and he wore a leather jacket like Brando’s? Had he thought those signs were real? Real jackets, real make-up, real love?