Higher Ground, Anke Stelling [historical books to read .TXT] 📗

of us had been sitting in the house for three days — a genuine overbooking — because of the non-stop rain; Laueli, being up in the clouds, was misty and cold.

At lunchtime, I forced Kieran into rain gear and the buggy, and myself out of the door and up the gravel path. I borrowed an umbrella from the house’s supply but closed it again after a few metres: I needed both hands to push the buggy up the mountain. I could feel the rain coming through at my shoulder seams. Never mind; it smelled wonderful in the woods. Those who can shoulder adversity shall be rewarded with the unexpected! Kieran fell asleep, I turned back, parked the buggy under the awning, and laid my wet jacket over his legs as a blanket. An hour’s break perhaps, if I was lucky …

The living room was strangely silent. There was nobody there except for Sven and Jack, who were sitting playing Malefiz.

‘Where are the others?’

Sven said: ‘There was an argument.’

Jack said: ‘We’re playing it like Ludo, so if you get a six, you get another go.’

‘That’s good,’ I said. ‘Then it doesn’t take ages.’

I went into the kitchen to make myself a tea. There was no one in the kitchen either.

‘Have they all left?’

‘Bea drove to Adelboden with Ulf and Carolina. And the others, if I got it right, have driven off to some thermal baths. A fun pool. Spa thing. I dunno, I was outside.’

‘And you?’ I looked at Jack. He loved swimming and diving. He was friends with Silas, and Ingmar and Friederike would have had room in their car.

Jack shrugged and looked at the board. ‘You have to get all your men back home, so it still takes ages.’

‘What was the argument about?’

Sven sighed. ‘I yelled at Charlotte.’

‘You did what?’ I said, feeling sick. I quickly took a sip of my tea.

‘He said she should stop saying dumb things.’ Jack looked at me and grinned.

My chest tightened. ‘Okay. And then?’

‘Dunno,’ said Sven. ‘Emergency plan. Was about time anyway. This place needed some air.’

‘Did you say sorry?’

‘Nah. I went out for a smoke.’

‘They already think you’re short-tempered and hard to understand.’

Sven seemed unbothered by this.

‘She really got on my bloody nerves.’

‘She can’t help it.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘She just does it automatically.’

‘Yeah, so do I.’ Sven scraped back his chair.

‘Where are you going?’ Jack asked.

‘For a quick smoke.’

‘Don’t wake up Kieran,’ I said.

Jack went into the kitchen to look for lollies. With fifteen people, there was never much left over, and the only thing he found was rusks.

‘Use a plate,’ I said.

I had a feeling of dread. Couldn’t it have been somebody else instead of Sven?

I went to stand outside with him.

‘Did everybody see what happened?’

‘No, just the kids.’

‘And how come they all took off?’

‘No idea. They all just left suddenly.’

‘And Jack?’

‘He said he didn’t want to go.’

‘Did they ask him?’

Sven’s eyes were narrowed against the smoke.

‘Don’t worry, Resi, Jack’s a bright kid. He knows how things work.’

‘Don’t be too relaxed about that!’

Sven snorted. ‘Relax? As if! I’ve been playing Malefiz for seven hours!’

The less people talk, the more difficult it is to find definitions: the difference between ‘violence’ and ‘drawing boundaries’, or what was ‘legitimate’ or ‘objectionable’, hadn’t been clear between us for a long time.

I thought Sven’s behaviour was authentic; Ellen thought he was brutal. Whereas I thought Ingmar was brutal beneath all his tolerance — driving his fast car to the thermal baths and cutting corners at high speed to keep the balance.

I didn’t know where you were, Bea, but I hoped you were having a nice time with Ulf and Carolina, and that, as our child, nothing Sven or I did would be blamed on you.

Having said that, though, I blamed Charlotte’s parents for her irritating behaviour. They gave detailed answers to even her dumbest questions, praised her every fart, and simply shrugged if she was mean. ‘Love’ is what they called it. I called it ‘fear of conflict’ — then panicked at the idea of our conflict if I told them how I saw things. I loved Sven’s courage. And was afraid it would risk our place in the group.

Do you see how we couldn’t say even the tiniest thing anymore?

There were fifteen of us, fifteen egos between zero and forty, all desperately trying to take hold of the reins.

I could have used that as a reference, but Vera would’ve had to be there, and she was trying to take hold of the reins by driving to Lausanne. Which wasn’t a problem, don’t get me wrong.

You see, Bea? That’s how it starts all over again.

Once again, just to be sure: it was absolutely no problem. I would’ve done the same in Vera’s shoes.

And then?

Things would have turned out the same. Unfortunately.

It makes no difference whether I’m envious or happy for the others. When tempers clashed in Laueli, Vera wasn’t there; she was sitting in the sun in Lausanne. And I wasn’t there either; I was in the woods. And then thankfully, the sun came out again, and not a word was spoken about the incident — at least none that reached my ears.

We didn’t talk about it, and I’m sick of hearing that I should’ve said something and that if only I had, things would have been okay.

Speak, don’t write. Whether in our confirmation lessons, at school, in Laueli, before Carolina’s fortieth birthday, at Vera and Frank’s housewarming party.

Just to say out loud for once: ‘That vanilla façade — seriously? It’s a pathetic, shoddy compromise.’

But I didn’t need to say it. Everybody knew. They got what they deserved: the façade, the house, the children, the money.

This is the awful realisation that everybody is running away from, me more than anybody: there is nothing to talk about, let alone discuss. It was all fated. It was as it was. It was true.

The misery contest

Bea comes home first as usual. She finishes school at four o’ clock, like Jack and Kieran, but doesn’t hang around at school,