“Tomorrow,” I say. “My father is sending a plane, with a bit of luck it will be here within the next twenty-four hours. Then we’ll have made it. You’ll be able to safely make contact with the police once we’re in Australia; I’m sure Gabor’s arms don’t reach that far.” I smile at Erik, but his expression remains unchanged. “And even if they do,” I continue, “I’m quite sure that his contacts are nothing compared to my family’s.”
“Great.” He shakes his head. “I never wanted to go to Australia, you don’t remember that anymore now of course, but we had this conversation a few times. You agreed with me then; you said on more than one occasion that your family would destroy our relationship within a few weeks. And now we don’t even have a proper relationship anymore. What do you think our chances are of building it up again over there?”
I try to say something, but he stops me with another shake of his head. “I know that it’s for the best in our situation. I’m not stupid. But I’ll lose you there, once and for all.”
I want to respond, to say something, but I can’t find the right words. My feelings for him aren’t even half a week old yet; his for me, on the other hand, date back almost a year. If everything that he says is true. Some moments I still have my doubts, but this isn’t one of them.
As though my silence was proof of the fact that his fears are justified, Erik turns away again. “You mentioned Matthew earlier.”
“Yes. I told Dad that it’s over between us.”
“But you do remember him?”
So that’s it. Erik is upset by the fact that, for some incomprehensible reason, he’s the only person my memory has suppressed. The fact that everyone else got to keep their place in my head.
I would give so much to know the reason why. The trigger. A very stressful event, some trauma that is connected to the thing or person in question.
See, I can even remember Dr. Schattauer’s explanation word for word. Except that I can no longer imagine Erik being violent. On the other hand, unfortunately I now know that a violent Joanna does exist, one which was previously unknown to me.
“Yes, I remember Matthew,” I say softly. “But not fondly.”
* * *
The mood remains tense for the rest of the day. Erik is silently brooding, watching the terrorist video over and over on the laptop. Whenever I refer to the fact that this time tomorrow we’ll probably be sitting on the plane and have left all this madness behind us, he only responds with a tired smile.
Maybe it’s because my words sound halfhearted; most of my attention is focused on the noises coming from the street outside. Every time a car slows down near the house, my heartbeat quickens. At some point I hear male voices outside, and it’s only when I start to feel dizzy that I realize I’m holding my breath. By then the men are long gone and can no longer be heard.
The closer evening comes, the more Erik becomes withdrawn. I gradually realize why: his life is falling apart. Not only am I no longer an anchor in his world, but he’s also about to lose his job and his home, as well as be haunted by the scenes from yesterday.
It’s dark in the living room, and despite the approaching dusk I haven’t turned on any of the lights. I sit down on the couch and put my arm around Erik. I feel his muscles tense. He shakes his head, pushes me away from him. “Don’t.”
I try not to let show that his rejection, against all logic, hurts me. “It will be better in Melbourne than you think,” I whisper. “We don’t have to live on my family’s land, there are other possibilities. And besides—”
The ringing of my phone interrupts me. A number that seems vaguely familiar, it’s not Nadine’s, it’s—
“Gabor.” Erik has reached for the phone; the light of the screen illuminates his face and makes him seem even paler.
I hold out my hand. Erik briefly hesitates, then places the phone into it. Nods to me.
“Frau Berrigan!” Gabor sounds as though he’s incredibly relieved to hear my voice. “How are you?”
“I’m … not so good,” I stammer, turning on the loudspeaker of the phone.
“I’m very sorry to hear that. Then I guess there hasn’t been any sign of life from Erik?”
“No.” It probably says a lot about my state of mind that I now tend to start crying any time I’m not consciously holding back the tears. “What about you?” I sob. “Have you heard anything?”
“Unfortunately not. But we still can’t give up hope.” He clears his throat. “Listen, Frau Berrigan, did the police come to see you too?”
I exchange a quick glance with Erik. Should I lie? Or tell the truth? If Gabor is having the house watched, then he’ll know that I’m here and have had two visitors today.
Erik shakes his head gently.
“No,” I whisper. “I’m not at the house, after all. But I did speak to an officer over the phone, because I wanted to know if there was any news.”
“I understand.” Gabor sounds thoughtful. “Where are you then, Frau Berrigan? Is someone looking after you?”
“I’m with friends,” I say, a little too quickly perhaps. But using the plural is good. “They’re taking great care of me; I have everything I need.”
“That’s very reassuring to hear.” Gabor’s voice has sunk an octave. “But you should be prepared for the police getting in touch again. I had a visit from some officers this afternoon, because someone came up with the absurd theory that my company might be involved in the attack.” He laughed briefly. “I’d love to know where they got that idea from; I think I could make it abundantly clear to them that it’s complete nonsense. It’s shocking how far some people will go to hurt others.”
I don’t say anything, I fear my voice might betray me.… Does he know? Or suspect it, at least? Is he indirectly asking me if I was the one who tipped off the police?
“In any case, you should know they’ll be wanting to speak to you too. After all, Erik did … I mean, he does work for me.”
He corrected himself hastily, but his slip of the tongue doesn’t escape me, and it’s by far the best thing about this conversation. For Gabor, Erik is a thing of the past, he believes he’s dead.
“Yes,” I say. “Thank you.”
“If you need anything, please contact me at any time. Will you promise me that? I’d really like to help you; after all, I’m the reason why Erik was in Munich…” He sighs. “Believe me, I’m struggling a great deal with that.”
I see Erik’s jaw muscles clench. “I can imagine,” I reply. “Thank you again, I really appreciate your offer.”
Erik springs to his feet soon as I’ve ended the call. “That asshole! The way he’s always trying to find out where you are!” He turns around to me. “We have to be careful, Jo. He definitely thinks it’s possible that you set the police onto him, and then he’d also have to assume that you know more than is good for him. Maybe he doesn’t believe that you’re staying with friends. He might send someone by to check.”
I find myself holding my breath again. I listen for sounds from outside, but everything is quiet. “What should I do?”
36