‘This morning, I woke to hear him shouting that everything that is happening is her fault.’
Rike waits until Tomas has finished. There isn’t much to say. Perhaps talking in a group would be good for him. She could ask about sessions at the school. ‘Conversation would help,’ she says. ‘Try using the simple past tense. Tell me more about Christos. Have you seen him today?’
‘I saw Christos this morning. But we didn’t speak because he is in a bad mood. He had an accident so he cannot drive.’
Rike asks Tomas to describe Christos’s accident in detail. Taxi, stoplights, bus. He’s lucky to be alive. The minibus is a write-off, and as the taxi driver was unofficial and therefore uninsured this is going to cost an unbearable amount of money. Now he considers himself unlucky. He can’t work without his vehicle, which leaves him at home with too much time on his hands.
Tomas shrugs, matter of fact.
Pleased, Rike leans forward, her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped. ‘Now,’ she demands, ‘let’s practise conversation. OK. I will ask you questions and you will answer me. Tell me about your parents.’
Tomas asks blankly why she is interested in his parents.
Rike isn’t sure how to answer. ‘I want to hear you talk. You can say anything. Tell me specific events. Something you remember? Your parents. Where are they from?’ She smiles in encouragement.
‘They are from Norway. And your parents?’ Tomas asks.
‘My father was an academic.’ She answers, deliberately, in the simple past tense. ‘He taught at the university in Freiburg. My mother was Italian and she was a student at the university at the same time. She was a little younger. Tell me, did you grow up in Norway? What is your first memory of Norway as a child.’
‘My first memory?’
‘Something from the past.’
Tomas looks up, reflecting, his chin set out.
‘A birthday? A holiday?’
‘My birthday is in the summer. I don’t remember anything special.’
‘A party, then. Describe a party.’
‘I don’t remember a party.’
To counter Tomas’s resistance Rike offers her own example. ‘My sister is five years older than me. When she was eleven we had a birthday party for her. We lived in an apartment — in Freiburg — and I don’t remember why, but I wasn’t happy about this party. I don’t think I did this deliberately — my sister would probably tell this differently — but I remember standing beside a table, there were other children, and there was a cake, but I had a glass, a beaker, and I must have been drinking juice, and somehow I bit off the lip of the glass. I remember it coming off.’ She gestures holding a glass to her mouth and biting.
‘And what happened?’
‘My parents were busy, but when my mother noticed she became very worried. She took the glass from me, and I remember very clearly that she thought that the missing piece from the glass was in my mouth. But it wasn’t. I remember it breaking off, but I don’t remember anything else about the glass. My mother became very upset, and it was the end of the party because they had to take me to hospital to make sure I hadn’t swallowed the glass.’
‘And did they find it?’
‘I don’t think so. I don’t know. I hadn’t swallowed it, and I had no cuts. So they thought that I’d done this deliberately for attention. We didn’t have any more parties after that.’
‘Is this true?’
A little surprised Rike says yes, the story is true, of course. ‘And you?’
‘Me?’
‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’
Arms folded, Tomas gives a firm no.
‘And now, in Norway, where do you live?’
‘I don’t spend much time there.’ Tomas shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
‘Tell me about your school.’
Of all questions, this seems the most innocuous, but his reaction, how he moves his weight from his left side to his right, unfolds his arms, tucks his hands away, and looks, she has to admit, a little irritated.
Tomas compresses his mouth, appears to be thinking. He shifts back into his original position. ‘I left school early.’
Rike isn’t sure why the conversation has become so tense. ‘If I’m asking things you’d rather not answer, please change the subject. Speak about anything you like — or ask me questions.’
‘You have one sister?’
‘One sister and one brother.’
‘And where does your brother live?’
‘He lives in Hamburg.’
‘You are the youngest?’
‘Then my brother, and my sister is the oldest. Yes. In fact I’m here for my sister. She is about to have a child.’ She stops herself from saying first, a noticeable hesitation. ‘Which is why I am here.’
‘When is your sister having the baby?’
‘Soon, in eighteen days.’
‘Why is she here?’
‘She worked until recently for the diplomatic corps.’
‘And her husband?’
‘The same. At the moment he works for the German consulate in Nicosia. He was working in Damascus but they were evacuated. He has had to go back because there is a man in hospital.’
Tomas doesn’t appear to understand.
‘There is a man in hospital in Syria, in a serious condition. It’s complicated because they don’t know who he is.’ She makes a gesture implying movement. Picking up an object and placing it somewhere else.
‘And your brother is helping him?’
‘It’s part of his work — when people are in trouble, if they’re in hospital, if they have an accident, they lose their money and passport, or if there’s trouble or a problem back home with their family. He travels all around the Middle East helping people. German people.’
‘Your brother?’
Rike gives a small corrective laugh. ‘No. Sorry. My brother-in-law.’
‘How long were you in England?’
This question surprises her, and she asks why he’s asked.
‘You have a slight English accent. You are German, though?’
Rike nods again. She doesn’t think of herself having an accent, and finds the comment interesting. She wonders how many Scandinavians there are in Limassol, and what it would take to bring a man from Norway to Cyprus — if this situation is usual or unusual. When she asks why he wants to practise his English the man smiles.
‘How will you use your English?’
His smile broadens. ‘To be honest,’ he says, ‘it’s about keeping active.’ He taps his head and Rike completely understands. After all it is a muscle, they agree.
‘How long are you here?’
‘It depends, six or seven weeks.’
‘And then you go to London?’
‘No. I’ll go back to Germany. To my brother’s apartment in Hamburg.’
‘You have work?’
‘I’m not sure what I’ll do. I haven’t decided.’
‘But you won’t stay here?’
Something about the suggestion makes her laugh. While she hasn’t considered remaining in Cyprus, it could be a possibility.
‘It depends on what happens. My sister and her husband will return to Damascus. Unless things become worse. I don’t know what they will do if that happens. The consulate won’t keep them here indefinitely. Henning has said as much. If this looks like a permanent situation they will withdraw the staff and have them return to Germany. Some will be reassigned to Turkey, but Henning, almost certainly, will be recalled to Berlin.’
‘And you would you go with them?’
‘No. I’m only here while she has the baby. Do you know Germany?’
Tomas nods. ‘Berlin. Frankfurt. I don’t know Hamburg.’