When I grabbed two wrinkled apples and a tangerine, a puff of tiny flies flew up into the air. Something was going off in there.
“I’ll deal with that,” I said. “Now look.”
I started juggling with them, then, rather carefully, walked up and down the room. I stumbled on a cushion and they fell to the floor.
“That gives you a general idea,” I said.
“Can you do more than that?” he asked.
I made a scoffing sound.
“Juggling with four balls is very boring,” I said. “You just hold two in each hand and throw them up and down with no interchanges.”
“What about five?”
I made my scoffing sound again.
“Five is for mad people. To juggle five balls you need to sit in a room alone for three months and do nothing else. I’m saving up five balls for when I get sent to prison or become a nun or get stranded on a desert island. They’re only toddlers, and in any case it’s only a phase I’m going through while I work out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”
“That’s no excuse,” said Stadler. “We want to see five balls, don’t we?”
“Minimum,” said Grace.
“Shut up,” I said. “Or I’ll show you my magic tricks.”
SIX
I can’t explain what happened next. Or at least I can’t explain it so it makes proper sense.
Grace Schilling left. She put her hands on my shoulders when she said good-bye and stared at me for a moment, as if she were going to kiss me, or cry. Or say something deeply serious. Then Stadler told me that they had arranged for a policewoman, Officer Burnett, to keep an eye on me.
“She’s not going to stay here, is she?”
“No, I wanted to explain this to you. Lynne Burnett will be the officer primarily assigned to your protection. At night she or, more often, other officers will be placed outside your house, mainly in a car. Not a police car. During the day she may spend some time inside, but that’s a matter for you and her.”
“At night?” I said.
“It’ll just be for a while.”
“What about you?” I said. “Will you be around?”
He looked at me for just a couple of seconds too long, so that I almost started thinking about saying something else, and then the doorbell rang. I started, blinked, smiled blearily at him.
“It’ll be Lynne,” he said.
“Aren’t you going to answer it, then?”
“It’s your flat.”
“It’ll be for you.”
He turned on his heel and opened the door. She was younger than me, although not much, and rather lovely. She had a large purple birthmark on her cheek. She didn’t dress like a police officer. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and carrying a light blue jacket in her hand.
“I’m Nadia Blake,” I said, holding out my hand. “Sorry about the mess, but I wasn’t exactly expecting visitors.”
She smiled and blushed.
“I’ll keep out of your way as much as possible, unless you want me for something,” she said. “And I’m rather good at tidying up. Only if you want things tidied,” she added hurriedly.
“Everything’s got a bit out of hand,” I said. I glanced across at Stadler and smiled, but he didn’t smile back, just looked at me thoughtfully. I went into my bedroom and sat on the bed, waiting for him to go. I felt tired and odd. What was going on? What was I supposed to do all evening with Lynne hanging around? I couldn’t even feel relaxed going to bed early with cheese on toast.
It could have been worse. We ate fried eggs and baked beans for supper, and Lynne told me all about her seven brothers and sisters, and her mother, who was a hairdresser. She did some tidying up, almost as if she needed something to do with her hands. Then she left. Not to go away, of course. She went and sat outside in the car. After tonight, she said, there would be other officers instead; after all, she had to sleep sometimes. I had a long bath, until the tips of my fingers were shriveled, and when I got out I looked out between the crack in the curtains. I could see her silhouette in the car. Was she reading or listening to the radio? I couldn’t tell. Probably nothing distracting was allowed. I wondered if I should go out with soup or coffee. I went to bed.
The next day Lynne followed me to the shops; she sat around while I wrote letters. There was a hint of embarrassment when Zach rang up and arranged to come round to go through the appointment book. I put the phone down, looked round at her, and said: “Um…”
She instantly responded: “I’ll wait outside.”
“It’s just that-”
“That’s fine.”
Early in the evening the doorbell rang and she went to answer it. It was Stadler. He was carrying a very serious briefcase, I saw, and wearing a somber suit.
“Hello there, Detective,” I said sweetly.
“I’ve taken over from Lynne for a spell.” His expression was impassive. No smile. “Everything all right?”
“Just fine, thanks.”
“I thought I’d ask some questions.”
He sat on the sofa, and I sat opposite him in the armchair.
“What are your questions, then, Detective?” He had lovely hands. Long, with smooth nails.
He opened his briefcase and fumbled with some papers.
“I wanted to ask you about previous boyfriends,” he said.
“You’ve done that already.”
“I realize that, but-”
“You know what? I think I’d prefer talking about my past relationships with Grace Schilling.”
He took a deep breath. He seemed ill at ease. I didn’t mind that.
“You might find it useful-” he began, but I interrupted him.
“I don’t really want to tell you any more details of my sex life.”
He gazed at me then, and didn’t look down at his notes anymore. I stood up and turned away from him.
“I’m going to have a glass of wine. Do you want one? And don’t say, Not while I’m on duty.”
“Maybe a very small one.”
I poured us both a glass of white wine, neither of them small. We walked out into what there was of the garden. My yard backs onto an industrial unit where containers are stored, but it made a change from being trapped indoors. The rain of yesterday and today had stopped and the air felt fresher than it had for weeks. The leaves of the pear tree glistened.
“I’m going to do lots of work out here soon,” I said, as we stood among the bolted plants. “It’s like The Day of the Triffids. The weeds are taking over.”
“It’s private, though. No one can see in.”
“True.”
I took a sip of my wine. He knew a lot about me. He knew about my work, my family, my friends, and my boyfriends; my exam results and my affairs. The things I wanted, like an open-top sports car and a better singing voice and more dignity, and the things I was scared of-like lifts and heights and snakes and cancer. I had talked to him, and to Grace, in the way I would talk to a lover, lying in bed after sex, with quiet dark outside, telling secrets and intimate nonsense. Yet I knew nothing about him, nothing at all. It made me feel giddy.
We began to lean toward each other. Here I go, I thought: another big mistake about to happen. But as I leaned I caught my foot on a thick bramble and stumbled badly. I dropped my glass and landed on my knees in the long, wet grass. He knelt down beside me and put a hand under my elbow.
“Come on, get up,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Come on, Nadia.”
I put my arms around his neck. He didn’t look away. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, what he wanted. I kissed him full and hard on his mouth. His lips were cool; his skin was warm. He didn’t push me away and he didn’t kiss me back at first. He just knelt there letting me hold him. I saw the lines on his face, the wrinkles round his eyes, and the grooves round his mouth.
“Help me up then,” I said.
He pulled me to my feet and we stood together in the wild garden. He was much bigger than me, wide and tall, blotting out the low sun.