Rosa Recha Meijer.
‘Will you be able to get used to it?’
She took his hand and very slowly ran her finger along the outline of his. She held her head tilted, and a strand of hair fell into her face.
‘You have good hands,’ she said at last, and even though she might not have answered his question, he was still pleased.
At the next station two noisy women pushed their way into their compartment, talking about their husbands and their neighbours and paid no heed to the couple by the window.
‘They’re all equally annoying,’ said one, and the other agreed and confirmed that that was how it was, but you had to take them as they came, there were no others.
Anyone who was under illusions about people had only themselves to blame, said the first, and the other one nodded and said, they weren’t as stupid as that any more, by no means.
Then they took thick sausage sandwiches out of their baskets, and choked their irritation with humanity down with them.
Rosa and Arthur looked at each other, and Rosa squinted very slightly. Nothing connects two people more than being able to laugh at the same things.
There were no problems at the Swiss border. The border guard looked at their marriage certificate, studied the date, paused, then put his hand to his cap and said, ‘Many congratulations.’
They changed in Basel, and soon they were sitting in the train bound for home. ‘Home,’ repeated Rosa, and that too was a new word.
‘What sort of flat do you have?’
‘Too small for four people,’ he said, too hastily. ‘But perhaps Désirée will swap with us.’ Now, of course he had to explain to her who Désirée was, and why she was called Déchirée, what had happened with Alfred and why his brother François was a goy. He grew talkative without noticing.
‘I think I’m going to get on with Désirée,’ said Rosa.
Then they were already pulling in to Baden, where there was also much to tell, they passed through Dietikon and Schlieren, the train slowed down, it wasn’t even afternoon, and they were in Zurich.
They got out, he carried her big suitcases and she his small one. Suddenly he stopped and said, ‘We should take them to the left luggage office.’
‘Why not home?’
‘We could take a detour via Rorschach.’ And in response to the question in her face, ‘That’s where you catch the train to Heiden.’
When she was happy, her face was much less precise.
In Heiden she ran down the gravel path to the children’s home, in completely inappropriate shoes, tripped in the rut of a cartwheel and fell over. When she struggled back to her feet, unkempt and laughing, the heel of her shoe had broken off.
‘We’re a match,’ said Arthur.
She had torn her stockings and scraped one of her knees. ‘You marry a doctor,’ she said, ‘and when you need him, he just ties a hanky around your leg.’
Fräulein Württemberger wasn’t pleased to see them. She was trying, with hourly, daily, weekly timetables, to drive from the Wartheim the chaos that lurks everywhere there are people and above all children, and now here was this Dr Meijer, turning up on a day that wasn’t even scheduled for the examination of the Women’s Association children, he just stood in her office and had even brought his wife with him, when everyone said he was a confirmed bachelor. A woman with torn stockings and broken shoes. Like a tramp. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he wanted her to call Irma and Moses, right there and then, when they were on kitchen duty, and if they were four hands short in the kitchen her whole plan would fall apart, and dinner would never be on the tables on time. And they had already had enough of a fuss with all the special treatment that Irma needed because of her illness.
‘She isn’t ill any more,’ said Arthur.
I see, said Fräulein Württemberger and searched for escapees from her bun, I see, she had recently sometimes had the impression that the girl was significantly better, but on the other hand…
‘She is quite well again.’
How he claimed to know that without even having seen the child.
‘Under your good care it could hardly be otherwise,’ said Arthur.
And then such scenes as there were — in Fräulein Württemberger’s personal office! — scenes were played out, with shouting and hugs and kisses and tears, scenes that simply had no room in a children’s home run on scientific principles. And this Dr Meijer, who was somehow to blame for it all, she would find out what sort of a game he was playing, this Dr Meijer stood there with his arms folded and looked as if he’d won a prize. And let the children kiss him too, even the girl, a grown man. Uncouth it was, yes, that was the word: uncouth.
And then, when the children’s things were to be packed away, right now, because they were going to take them away, just take them away, just like that without further ado, when any references to rules and duties were simply swept away, Fräulein Württemberger gave in surprisingly quickly. She just insisted that Dr Meijer confirm in writing that he had now assumed full and complete responsibility for the two children. You had to cover your back, whatever happened. Whatever might have been behind this matter, she was glad she no longer had anything to do with it. Yes, she was glad. Good riddance to bad rubbish, as they say.
She even sent Köbeli and his handcart with them to the station, just to be sure that they were really leaving.
On the train the children fought about who was going to be allowed to sit on Rosa’s lap. She decided, with the Wisdom of Solomon, that they should switch at each stop; whoever’s turn it wasn’t had to sit on Arthur’s lap instead. When Irma pressed up against him for the first time and put her thin arms around his neck, he had to take off his glasses and rub the bridge of his nose. His eyes were inflamed after the long journey, he explained.
Since her mother had been there, Irma seemed to have got younger. It was probably because she was able to shed her responsibilities.
‘I did that,’ she whispered in Arthur’s ear. ‘Because I was so good at being sick.’
When they changed in Rorschach Arthur bought four bags of sherbet powder at the kiosk, strawberry flavour, of course, and Irma showed them both how to spit blood. Moses was frightened of the game at first, until Arthur explained to him that sherbet powder was the best medicine there was. Then he joined in enthusiastically and slobbered it all over his pullover with great delight.
An elderly gentleman irritably folded his paper and complained to Arthur about his children making so much noise in the train compartment, where they were not, after all, alone. ‘And we’re not even his children,’ said Moses.
When they arrived at last it was already evening. They had to take a taxi, so many suitcases had come with them from Kassel and Heiden. Moses wanted to know why Arthur’s suitcase had such a big hole in it, and Rosa said, ‘So that the fresh air can get at his things.’
There weren’t enough beds in the flat. Arthur was a bachelor with no practical sense, and hadn’t thought of such things. But they put mattresses on the floor and dug out some blankets. Arthur retreated to his bedroom and Rosa and the children slept side by side on the floor, as if they were at a holiday camp. It was probably the best solution; Irma and Moses wouldn’t have let go of their mother in any case.
To be able to have breakfast the following day, they first had to go shopping together. Irma was very proud that she was able to explain Swiss money to her mother.
Arthur put the good Sarreguemines plates on the table and they all ate whatever came to hand, bread and honey and peaches and chocolate. Because they had forgotten to get cocoa when they were out shopping, the children had a little bit of coffee poured into their milk and felt very grown-up.