Suddenly it started raining.
Katka was caught unprepared and had to huddle beneath a tree, she held her cardigan tight about herself in an attempt to keep dry. But the rain came with such force, driven by a clumsy wind that sent water hammering down the road in a great torrent that swept with it all the litter and all the dust that had collected over the summer, within a minute Katka was soaked through.
‘Oh, you poor thing, you were caught in that rain,’ the frau said the moment she opened her door. She whisked Katka inside, a gentle hand on her back, comforting words in her dripping ear, ‘let’s get you dry, get you out of those wet things.’ It was enough to make Katka forget completely who this woman was - to forget why she was here.
Just as well, really. The things she had heard.
On the train Katka had thought about the moment they would meet. Would she know? Had it been too obvious, the story she had given, the reason she needed a place to stay? Had she been too forceful, too persistent?
Too late now.
The apartment door closed shut with a thud and Katka was inside - a cuckoo in a nest - a spider in a web - there was no turning back, not until the job was done, not until the frau had paid in full.
Paid what she owed.
‘Thank you.’ Katka said as she handed over her bag. She smiled, brushed hair from her eyes and looked at her surroundings - an apartment on the first floor of a building that was about thirty years old. It felt new - the door handles were the modern sort and the floor in the hall was fitted with linoleum (which was new at the time, it’s mostly called lino now) - but the whole building was so badly built and the hallway smelt of damp and already there were cracks in the plaster. It was peeling off in places and black spots of mould had begun creeping up the walls.
But only in the hall - the frau’s apartment was clean.
‘Here, take this,’ said the frau and she handed Katka a fresh towel - also new, soft to the touch - she showed Katka to the bathroom, which was a small room, basic - it led off from the kitchen and smelt strongly of bleach - white enamel as smooth as shell, a naked bulb too bright for such a little room and a window that was locked closed. A fly buzzing against the glass, desperate to get out.
‘Thank you,’ Katka replied again and once she was alone she splashed water on her face - cold, reviving, it was time to be alert, time to be ready, she told herself - and as she dried herself she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror glass and she couldn’t believe the image staring back at her - suddenly so old and so much older than the twenty-five years she had racked up - scavenged for, stolen - her skin was blotched pink, her eyes so tired they practically hung out from their sockets, touched her cheeks.
How she hated all this.
‘So,’ said the frau, settling herself onto a cushioned chair. She had set out two cups and a teapot on the little table beneath the window, a small plate of biscuits too, and when Katka lifted her cup she noticed it was English - fine and light and perfectly undanaged - it was so fitting for such a carefully decorated room. There were china ornaments on the mantelpiece, lace and net curtains and outside a cherry tree blossomed - pink explosions beyond the window glass, a smell sweeter than any chemical, ‘you’ve come because you’re looking for work?’
‘Yes.’ Katka laughed nervously, because the frau’s question was so direct. She stared at Katka, eyes searching for an answer, ‘There is nothing now in the east, and with the Russians being so controlling - ’
‘It must have been difficult getting out.’
‘It was.’
‘I mean with paperwork. Was there a lot of paperwork?’
‘There was.’ Katka wanted to know if she believed her, if it sounded convincing - say as little as possible. Don’t say too much, don’t compromise yourself.
‘Well, I will try my best.’ said the frau, ‘but these are hard times.’
‘I know, it’s just that I have to try. The money in the east is so poor now, and I’ve heard things here are -’
‘Paved with gold,’ the frau interrupted. A smile flickered across her face, disappeared, she looked through the window at the cherry tree, then at her cup, which was empty now, ‘don’t believe everything you are told. The world now is filled with lies these days.’
Lies.
‘Yes.’ Katka said, and her fear might have shown on her face because when she looked up the frau was staring at her - hard, cold eyes, a killer’s eyes, and a frown so thin it could have been drawn on with a pencil, a single straight line - she refilled Katka’s cup with the dregs from the teapot.
‘You must be hungry,’ said the frau. She turned towards the kitchen.
‘Yes,’ Katka said - because she hadn’t eaten since this morning and it was almost a relief to tell the truth.
‘Cooking is such a release.’ the frau said and the moment she was out of the room, speaking to Katka from the other side of the apartment - from the kitchen, the soles of her feet tapping on the lino floor - the mood changed, became light, gay. ‘These days when there is such a need for release, and when I have guests,’ she said, paused, ‘it’s the only excuse I need.’
Was she so welcoming during the war? Katka thought. And she watched as the frau moved about the kitchen - her face, her chin, her jaw - it was her alright, only different from the photographs she had seen. Softer and more colourful - she had swapped her grey uniform for a floral housecoat, she had taught herself to move with the inelegance of a woman who’s dedicated her life to nothing much at all.
Nothing harmful.
It was her feet Katka noticed most. They were too small for such a solid build - but her hands were small too and her fingers as thin as a child’s perhaps. And Katka had the sudden thought that perhaps they weren’t hers, perhaps she had taken them and attached them with some perfect, invisible stitch.
A surgeon, a Frankenstein in grey.
What a stupid thing to think.
As she ate she only picked at her food - and because she was a big woman this didn’t seem right, she must surely eat more. Not because she was fat - she wasn’t fat at all - she was thick limbed and it gave the impression of strength. She was as strong as a man, tall too. She was handsome and -
The frau smiled. She had been watching Katka and was probably wondering what she was thinking.
After they had eaten they sat in silence for a while - tired, satisfied. Such a heavy meal for the afternoon and so carefully prepared. The sauce must have taken the concentration of a scientist - rich and dark - and the way she had ladelled it over the knedliky. Such precision, such purpose. ‘Did you enjoy your the dumplings?’ the frau asked, unsmiling.
‘Thank you.’ Katka nodded, wiping something from her lip with the back of her hand. She had been hungrier than she had thought - she had indulge herself, she had eaten greedily and now she felt embarrassed.
‘Now tell me why you are here?’ the frau said, ‘the real reason.’
‘I -’ Katka looked up from her plate, ‘had to come.’
‘I told you when you telephoned, you would find nothing here. If you were a journalist-’
‘I’m not a journalist.’ Katka said at once.
‘If you were a journalist,’ the frau corrected, slowly, as painfully as a teacher, ‘I said if you were a journalist, you would find nothing here. But I know you are not a journalist.’
‘No?’ Katka asked - unsure of what she meant. She had a piece of meat stuck between her teeth and she couldn’t help but try to work it free with the tip of her tongue.
‘Because like you, I have done my research. I have found out about you.’
‘Oh,’ Katka said - stupidly, unsure if she should make the sound a question or a statement. ‘you’ve been asking about me?’
The frau nodded, seemed please with herself, ‘I know where you’re from, what you did in the war.’ she said, and her words were so weighted they could almost have fallen from her mouth and shattered her plate onto the floor.
‘Jana? You’ve been speaking to Jana.’ Katka smiled fragily.
The frau said nothing.
Panic rising, leaping at her insides as if trapped in a sinking casket - slowly flooding, drowning - ‘Because you shouldn’t listen to everything Jana says.’ Katka said and her voice shook - actually shook when she said these words because it had to be Jana. if she had spoken to someone else -
‘Nevermind who I have spoken to.’ the frau interrupted, her voice suddenly louder, for a second her face flushed red, ‘I know what you did during the war and if you are here to tell me you’ll talk -’
‘No, I -’
‘ - or if you’re suffering from some remorse and all of a sudden and want to go dredging things up again, then you can leave now.’
‘No -’
‘Enough!’ the sharp bark of her words send Katka upright in her chair. It was as if the frau had let loose a dog and it was gnashing and snapping at Katka’s neck - the frau was barely able to hold it back on its lead.
But it’s OK, everything is alright, Katka told herself as she fought to protect herself. The frau had spoken to Jana, She must have - It was enough to make Katka breath, to pant ecstatically and a delirious smile broke out on her face and on seeing it the frau began to relax. She loosened her grip on the dog’s lead, she loosened the muscles in her neck, she softened.
‘You thought I was here to confront you about the war. Oh God no!’ Katka said - relieved and repeating herself. She said the same words over and over as she regained her breath. Because Jana had created a cover, a complex set of lies about Katka being an informant in the war, about her being young and naive, about how she had spent the last ten years drifting between jobs, drinking too much, slipping from one disastrous affair to disastrous affair.
Conversation faded then. Died with the rest of the afternoon.
Then evening came.
Katka watched as the frau got undressed to take a bath. She watched from the hall as she pretended to read a book from the shelf by the door, flicking though its pages in a show of interest - should I take this to my room for the evening? - ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asked.
‘Oh no, that’s quite alright.’ there are no secret here, I have nothing to hide,’ she replied and as if to prove her point she rose up from the bath, naked and unashamed - middle aged and as pink as boiled ham after the water.
She knows. She has worked me out.
The next morning Katka found herself walking. Fast enough that she was out of breath and sweat began to collect in the small of her back as she climbed the hill in the direction of the church on the hill.
‘I’m going for a walk around town, if you don’t mind.’ she had said, then stupidly said again, ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
In reply the frau had only shaken her head. She had been looking out of the living room window - something at the base of the cherry tree had gained her attention - ‘Go!’ she smiled and in the morning light, which lit her complexion so perfectly, she was at once the motherly figure of yesterday afternoon, ‘Then, when you return we will go through the small adverts in the morning paper.’
‘I don’t usually come here.’ Katka said, speaking into the silence of the church, but aware that someone had taken a seat behind her - and by the creak of the wooden pew she could tell the person was kneeling.
‘Only when forgiveness is sought.’ came the reply, a soft voice, helpful, kind.
And on these words Kaka immediately began speaking, words blurted from her mouth, ‘She doesn’t believe me, she knows who I am, I need out, I need to get out now.’ She had to stop herself from saying more.
‘Calmly, speak slowly.’ came the reply
‘She knows who I am.’ Katka said.
‘How?’
‘I don’t know, I -’
‘How is she behaving and why do you think she knows. Katka, remember your training. There are ways of identifying these things.’
‘She -’ Katka tried to think, tried to sift through the clutter of her mind, the sheer panic she had felt at the way the frau had looked at her, at the coldness of her eyes, at how she had watched Katka when she thought Katka’s attention was elsewhere - but how was this proof that she knew, ‘she suspects me.’ Katka said after a pause.
‘Of course she suspects you, these are dangerous times.’ came the reply.
‘She knows I’m hiding something.’
‘Because she is hiding something also.’
Yes, thought Katka - yes, this is true. But still, the weakness of her story, the lie that during the war she had been a guard in one of the camps, only for a few weeks before the war ended and for a short enough time that she couldn’t be questioned on too many particulars, it was dangerous, it was a risk, it made panic rise up inside Katka like water on the boil - it clattered the lid of the pan, threatened to overflow, hissed loudly.
‘Is there anything else?’
‘No, but -’ fear, just fear, ‘it’s just she acts just so strangely, the way she talks, the -’ Katka stopped. The figure behind her had gone - it was clear from the silence, a different kind now. It was as deep and as dark as the light in the church, a heavy blackness, air that’s thick warm. Katka knew at once she needed to go outside, that she had been gone already for too long and to waste any more time would be - it could be fatal.
So Katka took a different route back down the hill, passing through the little streets that made up the lesser part of town - cobbles and hanging baskets, children, cats and even some men, most of whom sat forlorn in doorways or skulking in shadows with caps pulled low enough their faces couldn’t be seen. And the women - they all seemed the same, all dressed in the same housecoats that the frau wore, always busy, always smiling.
And then she arrived at the house.
And at once she knew something was wrong - because the lights were on and the door was open. And when Katka went inside, stepping carefully over the threshold and with one hand pushing the door open with a slow creak, she saw that the frau was gone.
On the floor a mess of papers, books ripped from the shelf. Had she been searching for something - something valuable that she would want to take with her. In the bedroom it was the same - clothes hastily pulled from the wardrobe, what she didn’t need left in a pile of the floor. She had left so quickly she hadn’t even had time to close the front door - and from the kitchen the radio played, modern music from America, the oven was on.
The frau had gone.
Katka was caught unprepared and had to huddle beneath a tree, she held her cardigan tight about herself in an attempt to keep dry. But the rain came with such force, driven by a clumsy wind that sent water hammering down the road in a great torrent that swept with it all the litter and all the dust that had collected over the summer, within a minute Katka was soaked through.
‘Oh, you poor thing, you were caught in that rain,’ the frau said the moment she opened her door. She whisked Katka inside, a gentle hand on her back, comforting words in her dripping ear, ‘let’s get you dry, get you out of those wet things.’ It was enough to make Katka forget completely who this woman was - to forget why she was here.
Just as well, really. The things she had heard.
On the train Katka had thought about the moment they would meet. Would she know? Had it been too obvious, the story she had given, the reason she needed a place to stay? Had she been too forceful, too persistent?
Too late now.
The apartment door closed shut with a thud and Katka was inside - a cuckoo in a nest - a spider in a web - there was no turning back, not until the job was done, not until the frau had paid in full.
Paid what she owed.
‘Thank you.’ Katka said as she handed over her bag. She smiled, brushed hair from her eyes and looked at her surroundings - an apartment on the first floor of a building that was about thirty years old. It felt new - the door handles were the modern sort and the floor in the hall was fitted with linoleum (which was new at the time, it’s mostly called lino now) - but the whole building was so badly built and the hallway smelt of damp and already there were cracks in the plaster. It was peeling off in places and black spots of mould had begun creeping up the walls.
But only in the hall - the frau’s apartment was clean.
‘Here, take this,’ said the frau and she handed Katka a fresh towel - also new, soft to the touch - she showed Katka to the bathroom, which was a small room, basic - it led off from the kitchen and smelt strongly of bleach - white enamel as smooth as shell, a naked bulb too bright for such a little room and a window that was locked closed. A fly buzzing against the glass, desperate to get out.
‘Thank you,’ Katka replied again and once she was alone she splashed water on her face - cold, reviving, it was time to be alert, time to be ready, she told herself - and as she dried herself she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror glass and she couldn’t believe the image staring back at her - suddenly so old and so much older than the twenty-five years she had racked up - scavenged for, stolen - her skin was blotched pink, her eyes so tired they practically hung out from their sockets, touched her cheeks.
How she hated all this.
‘So,’ said the frau, settling herself onto a cushioned chair. She had set out two cups and a teapot on the little table beneath the window, a small plate of biscuits too, and when Katka lifted her cup she noticed it was English - fine and light and perfectly undanaged - it was so fitting for such a carefully decorated room. There were china ornaments on the mantelpiece, lace and net curtains and outside a cherry tree blossomed - pink explosions beyond the window glass, a smell sweeter than any chemical, ‘you’ve come because you’re looking for work?’
‘Yes.’ Katka laughed nervously, because the frau’s question was so direct. She stared at Katka, eyes searching for an answer, ‘There is nothing now in the east, and with the Russians being so controlling - ’
‘It must have been difficult getting out.’
‘It was.’
‘I mean with paperwork. Was there a lot of paperwork?’
‘There was.’ Katka wanted to know if she believed her, if it sounded convincing - say as little as possible. Don’t say too much, don’t compromise yourself.
‘Well, I will try my best.’ said the frau, ‘but these are hard times.’
‘I know, it’s just that I have to try. The money in the east is so poor now, and I’ve heard things here are -’
‘Paved with gold,’ the frau interrupted. A smile flickered across her face, disappeared, she looked through the window at the cherry tree, then at her cup, which was empty now, ‘don’t believe everything you are told. The world now is filled with lies these days.’
Lies.
‘Yes.’ Katka said, and her fear might have shown on her face because when she looked up the frau was staring at her - hard, cold eyes, a killer’s eyes, and a frown so thin it could have been drawn on with a pencil, a single straight line - she refilled Katka’s cup with the dregs from the teapot.
‘You must be hungry,’ said the frau. She turned towards the kitchen.
‘Yes,’ Katka said - because she hadn’t eaten since this morning and it was almost a relief to tell the truth.
‘Cooking is such a release.’ the frau said and the moment she was out of the room, speaking to Katka from the other side of the apartment - from the kitchen, the soles of her feet tapping on the lino floor - the mood changed, became light, gay. ‘These days when there is such a need for release, and when I have guests,’ she said, paused, ‘it’s the only excuse I need.’
Was she so welcoming during the war? Katka thought. And she watched as the frau moved about the kitchen - her face, her chin, her jaw - it was her alright, only different from the photographs she had seen. Softer and more colourful - she had swapped her grey uniform for a floral housecoat, she had taught herself to move with the inelegance of a woman who’s dedicated her life to nothing much at all.
Nothing harmful.
It was her feet Katka noticed most. They were too small for such a solid build - but her hands were small too and her fingers as thin as a child’s perhaps. And Katka had the sudden thought that perhaps they weren’t hers, perhaps she had taken them and attached them with some perfect, invisible stitch.
A surgeon, a Frankenstein in grey.
What a stupid thing to think.
As she ate she only picked at her food - and because she was a big woman this didn’t seem right, she must surely eat more. Not because she was fat - she wasn’t fat at all - she was thick limbed and it gave the impression of strength. She was as strong as a man, tall too. She was handsome and -
The frau smiled. She had been watching Katka and was probably wondering what she was thinking.
After they had eaten they sat in silence for a while - tired, satisfied. Such a heavy meal for the afternoon and so carefully prepared. The sauce must have taken the concentration of a scientist - rich and dark - and the way she had ladelled it over the knedliky. Such precision, such purpose. ‘Did you enjoy your the dumplings?’ the frau asked, unsmiling.
‘Thank you.’ Katka nodded, wiping something from her lip with the back of her hand. She had been hungrier than she had thought - she had indulge herself, she had eaten greedily and now she felt embarrassed.
‘Now tell me why you are here?’ the frau said, ‘the real reason.’
‘I -’ Katka looked up from her plate, ‘had to come.’
‘I told you when you telephoned, you would find nothing here. If you were a journalist-’
‘I’m not a journalist.’ Katka said at once.
‘If you were a journalist,’ the frau corrected, slowly, as painfully as a teacher, ‘I said if you were a journalist, you would find nothing here. But I know you are not a journalist.’
‘No?’ Katka asked - unsure of what she meant. She had a piece of meat stuck between her teeth and she couldn’t help but try to work it free with the tip of her tongue.
‘Because like you, I have done my research. I have found out about you.’
‘Oh,’ Katka said - stupidly, unsure if she should make the sound a question or a statement. ‘you’ve been asking about me?’
The frau nodded, seemed please with herself, ‘I know where you’re from, what you did in the war.’ she said, and her words were so weighted they could almost have fallen from her mouth and shattered her plate onto the floor.
‘Jana? You’ve been speaking to Jana.’ Katka smiled fragily.
The frau said nothing.
Panic rising, leaping at her insides as if trapped in a sinking casket - slowly flooding, drowning - ‘Because you shouldn’t listen to everything Jana says.’ Katka said and her voice shook - actually shook when she said these words because it had to be Jana. if she had spoken to someone else -
‘Nevermind who I have spoken to.’ the frau interrupted, her voice suddenly louder, for a second her face flushed red, ‘I know what you did during the war and if you are here to tell me you’ll talk -’
‘No, I -’
‘ - or if you’re suffering from some remorse and all of a sudden and want to go dredging things up again, then you can leave now.’
‘No -’
‘Enough!’ the sharp bark of her words send Katka upright in her chair. It was as if the frau had let loose a dog and it was gnashing and snapping at Katka’s neck - the frau was barely able to hold it back on its lead.
But it’s OK, everything is alright, Katka told herself as she fought to protect herself. The frau had spoken to Jana, She must have - It was enough to make Katka breath, to pant ecstatically and a delirious smile broke out on her face and on seeing it the frau began to relax. She loosened her grip on the dog’s lead, she loosened the muscles in her neck, she softened.
‘You thought I was here to confront you about the war. Oh God no!’ Katka said - relieved and repeating herself. She said the same words over and over as she regained her breath. Because Jana had created a cover, a complex set of lies about Katka being an informant in the war, about her being young and naive, about how she had spent the last ten years drifting between jobs, drinking too much, slipping from one disastrous affair to disastrous affair.
Conversation faded then. Died with the rest of the afternoon.
Then evening came.
Katka watched as the frau got undressed to take a bath. She watched from the hall as she pretended to read a book from the shelf by the door, flicking though its pages in a show of interest - should I take this to my room for the evening? - ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asked.
‘Oh no, that’s quite alright.’ there are no secret here, I have nothing to hide,’ she replied and as if to prove her point she rose up from the bath, naked and unashamed - middle aged and as pink as boiled ham after the water.
She knows. She has worked me out.
The next morning Katka found herself walking. Fast enough that she was out of breath and sweat began to collect in the small of her back as she climbed the hill in the direction of the church on the hill.
‘I’m going for a walk around town, if you don’t mind.’ she had said, then stupidly said again, ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
In reply the frau had only shaken her head. She had been looking out of the living room window - something at the base of the cherry tree had gained her attention - ‘Go!’ she smiled and in the morning light, which lit her complexion so perfectly, she was at once the motherly figure of yesterday afternoon, ‘Then, when you return we will go through the small adverts in the morning paper.’
‘I don’t usually come here.’ Katka said, speaking into the silence of the church, but aware that someone had taken a seat behind her - and by the creak of the wooden pew she could tell the person was kneeling.
‘Only when forgiveness is sought.’ came the reply, a soft voice, helpful, kind.
And on these words Kaka immediately began speaking, words blurted from her mouth, ‘She doesn’t believe me, she knows who I am, I need out, I need to get out now.’ She had to stop herself from saying more.
‘Calmly, speak slowly.’ came the reply
‘She knows who I am.’ Katka said.
‘How?’
‘I don’t know, I -’
‘How is she behaving and why do you think she knows. Katka, remember your training. There are ways of identifying these things.’
‘She -’ Katka tried to think, tried to sift through the clutter of her mind, the sheer panic she had felt at the way the frau had looked at her, at the coldness of her eyes, at how she had watched Katka when she thought Katka’s attention was elsewhere - but how was this proof that she knew, ‘she suspects me.’ Katka said after a pause.
‘Of course she suspects you, these are dangerous times.’ came the reply.
‘She knows I’m hiding something.’
‘Because she is hiding something also.’
Yes, thought Katka - yes, this is true. But still, the weakness of her story, the lie that during the war she had been a guard in one of the camps, only for a few weeks before the war ended and for a short enough time that she couldn’t be questioned on too many particulars, it was dangerous, it was a risk, it made panic rise up inside Katka like water on the boil - it clattered the lid of the pan, threatened to overflow, hissed loudly.
‘Is there anything else?’
‘No, but -’ fear, just fear, ‘it’s just she acts just so strangely, the way she talks, the -’ Katka stopped. The figure behind her had gone - it was clear from the silence, a different kind now. It was as deep and as dark as the light in the church, a heavy blackness, air that’s thick warm. Katka knew at once she needed to go outside, that she had been gone already for too long and to waste any more time would be - it could be fatal.
So Katka took a different route back down the hill, passing through the little streets that made up the lesser part of town - cobbles and hanging baskets, children, cats and even some men, most of whom sat forlorn in doorways or skulking in shadows with caps pulled low enough their faces couldn’t be seen. And the women - they all seemed the same, all dressed in the same housecoats that the frau wore, always busy, always smiling.
And then she arrived at the house.
And at once she knew something was wrong - because the lights were on and the door was open. And when Katka went inside, stepping carefully over the threshold and with one hand pushing the door open with a slow creak, she saw that the frau was gone.
On the floor a mess of papers, books ripped from the shelf. Had she been searching for something - something valuable that she would want to take with her. In the bedroom it was the same - clothes hastily pulled from the wardrobe, what she didn’t need left in a pile of the floor. She had left so quickly she hadn’t even had time to close the front door - and from the kitchen the radio played, modern music from America, the oven was on.
The frau had gone.