I sighed in relief. The more time I spent at the Big House, the smaller my own home seemed to become. I hated the smells that wafted from our kitchen through the whole house, and I couldn’t watch my father eat anymore. It was horrible how noisily he slurped his soup; after every bite of meat he scratched between his teeth with his fingernails. My brothers chewed with their mouths open while continuing their conversations. I was only too happy not to find any of them at home. I’d be able to prepare for my rendezvous with Rutger undisturbed. The chauffeur would pick me up at four o’clock.
Rutger’s marriage with Anna Frick had scandalized his family, and only Frick’s money had finally convinced Bruno von Kamphoff and his wife to relent. Anna had been one of us, a village beauty with rosy cheeks and without manners. I knew what happened when girls like us got mixed up with people like the von Kamphoffs. And even though I sensed that Rutger meant well, I had not entirely given in to his greed. My dad wasn’t as rich as Frick. I had only my young skin and my brown hair. Nobody had touched me yet.
This is what I thought while washing myself and putting on a new dress, one that Rutger hadn’t yet seen dozens of times. I brushed my hair and pushed away pictures of my friend Linde. How much better was I prepared to take advantage of the opportunity I was given. She would only have squandered it. And, anyway, her face was disfigured—she had even less to offer the future heir of the Big House.
Around three o’clock I heard a car in front of the house, and with surprise I saw that it was really the von Kamphoffs’ black Mercedes. The driver got out, walked slowly toward our door. Had he been given the wrong time?
With hair loose and without any makeup, I ran down the stairs and opened the door. How big was my surprise when I found not the elegant young man I was used to but Alex Frick taking off his black cap and grinning at me. “Anke?” he said. “The car is ready.”
“You?” I said. I couldn’t explain Alex’s appearance. “What is this?” I knew that Frick’s younger son had returned to Hemmersmoor, but I hadn’t seen much of him in the village. My parents had not frequented Frick’s Inn since Broder’s death; Alex’s light punishment, they said, had been bought from the authorities. Three years for a son. What kind of justice was that?
“Indeed,” Alex said. “I’m the new chauffeur. Can I come in?”
“The chauffeur?” I asked.
“Oh, are you already one of them?”
“You are too early,” I said and heard how stupid this sounded. “That’s not what I meant. You shouldn’t be here. If my mother comes home…”
“Not before dinnertime.”
“You don’t know that.”
“And your father is working in the fields. You’re all dolled up.” Alex inspected me from top to bottom. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old, but he had grown a lot and was as heavy and slow moving as a much older man. He looked funny in his uniform, funny and somehow adorable, like a circus bear. He had the lazy movements of a man who knows he can punch holes into a wall.
Alex crossed the doorstep without my invitation. I had to move to avoid him. “Go, get yourself ready,” he said. “I’ll wait down here.”
“If my parents find out…,” I said.
“I know what I did. But I’ve lost a sister.” Alex looked around our entrance hall. “I know how it feels.”
“I had nothing to do with that,” I said angrily.
“I didn’t say you did.” He smiled. “But it looks as if you might take her place. Rutger was very particular when he gave me instructions.”
I felt myself blushing. Had Rutger talked about me with Alex? I was flattered to hear that Rutger did indeed have plans for me, but how could he talk about them with his driver? What was he thinking, sending Alex to our house? Didn’t he know what had happened?
“Perhaps he’ll fire me if you ask him real nicely.” Alex’s smile grew wider, until I couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore. “I’ve paid the price, Anke,” he added. “I don’t expect your parents to like me, but what happened was nothing but a stupid prank. I was a boy. I didn’t mean to kill your brother.”
Speechless, I stood in the hall; I was still holding my brush in my left hand.
“I’ll wait in the car,” Alex finally said. “Ms. Hoffmann.” He nodded and adjusted his cap.
I was utterly confused. I wanted to tell my mom about what had just happened, wanted to run into the fields to search for my father. I wanted to meet Rutger. Finally I ran up the stairs to my room and put on makeup. I wanted to find good reasons for Alex’s appearance, and I found them all too quickly: he was Anna’s brother, he needed work, and at the Big House he was still near his father, without having to show his face in Hemmersmoor much. Besides, Rutger would never have heard of my brother’s death—our lives weren’t part of the von Kamphoffs’ conversations.
Twenty minutes after he’d arrived, Alex opened the car door for me, closed it carefully, and soon we had left the village behind us. The radio was playing with the volume turned low. A singer from Hamburg could be heard, yearning for white sails, sailors, and foreign lands. The skies hung low over the fields, rolled out like down comforters. It was one of those days that promised warmth and sun but still held back both. Light green showed on the bushes along the road; everything looked clean and polished. I was wearing only a light cardigan over my dress and goose bumps spread on my arms. Perhaps it would rain later on.
He didn’t ask once. He rolled down the window, and even though it messed up my hair, so that I had to move away, he kept it open. Halfway to the manor, close to an old barn that hadn’t been used since a fire had nearly destroyed it, Alex braked and let the car slowly roll ahead. I watched the blackened roof of the barn and the large holes in its walls.
“One day I’ll take over my father’s inn,” he said.
“Yes,” I said.
“Can I help you with something? I still have to drive the old man to a show in Bremen tonight. I don’t have much time.”
I shook my head as an answer to his peculiar question. “I don’t need anything.”
“I have some coffee with me.” He reached under his seat and a moment later came up with an orange thermos. “It’s only lukewarm.”
“No thanks,” I said cautiously.
“Not very hot.” Alex stopped the car. He unscrewed the top of the thermos and poured himself some coffee. “It doesn’t matter to me that it’s lukewarm. The body absorbs lukewarm liquids better.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Read it somewhere.”
“Fine,” I said.
Alex drank the black coffee and then switched off the engine. He opened his door and inhaled deeply. “The air gives me the hiccups,” he said, and belched into his hand and laughed. Then he got out, put his cup on the roof of the car, and stretched.
“We should continue,” I said. “Rutger is waiting.”
“Sure,” Alex said. “Sure thing.” Then he opened the left passenger door and sat down next to me.
“We’ll be late,” I said.
“Maybe.” Alex stretched out his hand and touched my breast.
“Hey.” I forced myself to laugh; it could only be a stupid joke.
“Hey,” he echoed and put his other hand on my hip. His hands were enormous, his fingers thick and short. Short hairs sprouted on them.
I scooted all the way to the right, and he followed me. I grabbed the door handle and pulled, but Alex’s left hand closed around my arm and he simply shook his head. Then his hand cupped my other breast.
I could have screamed, I could have tried to push open the car door and run away, but I didn’t want him to hit me. “Rutger will…,” I said and couldn’t finish the sentence.