Amberville - By Tim Davys Page 0,99

paid, it was worth it.

Before the second verse the door to the narthex was opened and Emma Rabbit and her mother appeared. Emma was a revelation. The guests sitting in the pews were listening to the exquisitely beautiful singing and for the time being didn’t see the bride. The church was almost full. A few hundred stuffed animals. Most of them were friends of Mother and Father. There were seventy-eight animals invited to the dinner afterward.

The Red Bird Singers concluded the introductory hymn and the singers sat down. The procession with Odenrick, Emma, and Emma’s mother began its short but symbolic course along the middle aisle of the church. Mother and Father sat in the first row. They didn’t turn around. Mother was already crying and didn’t want to show it. Father sat next to her, straight-backed.

A murmur went through the church. A collective inhalation that spread in time with Emma’s measured progress.

I’ve already written it.

I’ll write it again.

She was so beautiful.

The bridegroom stood at the altar, waiting. He looked terrified.

The guests didn’t see his sweaty paws or his shaking knees. However, he couldn’t conceal anything from my critical gaze.

The bear was fingering a small etui that he had in his trouser pocket. It was an inappropriate gesture that expressed nervousness and uncertainty. When he assured himself that he hadn’t forgotten the rings, he took out his paw. He nodded toward the congregation, toward Emma and toward Mother, but he didn’t appear relieved.

In the bear’s eye was the expectation and happiness shared by everyone in the church. But for the bear at the altar, that feeling was diluted with anxiety. It wasn’t obvious, a sharp gaze was required to notice it.

I saw it.

It was my twin who was standing up at the altar. He couldn’t conceal anything from me.

He had taken my place.

We had an agreement.

I myself was concealed inside the sacristy, peeking out through a crack in the door. Neither Emma Rabbit, Archdeacon Odenrick, Mother, Father, nor anyone else in the church was aware of what was about to happen.

Emma Rabbit was getting married to the wrong twin.

I didn’t promise anything that I couldn’t keep. Eric promised without caring about it.

I sat hidden behind my door and saw my brother get married to the she I loved with all my deplorable heart.

The tears I shed were not from melancholy or sorrow.

I was weeping for joy.

One morning in December, Wolle Hare threw open the door to my office and shouted, “Now you can’t hide yourself anymore!”

Then he laughed his snorting sales-laugh that he’d been practicing for many years. It wasn’t particularly contagious. On the other hand, it induced thoughtlessness and made it feel less dramatic to make a decision. Let’s make the deal, the customer who heard Wolle Hare’s laugh would think. Let’s make the deal, life isn’t so terribly serious.

I wasn’t affected by his laugh. For me, life was serious.

“Hide myself?” I repeated.

“We need you,” shouted Wolle Hare, “you and no one else.”

“You have for a long time,” I answered quietly.

I had worked at the advertising agency for almost eighteen months and knew my position. I didn’t need to be flattered by either Wolle or Wolle.

After the first six months I realized how things stood. Everyone in the agency wanted to be in the spotlight. The animals competed in proving themselves smart, smarter than each other. Those who weren’t part of the competition that day sat on an invisible jury and judged the others. It was a matter of being creative or successful. Certain ones strove to be both. Everything could be measured in money.

No points were awarded for administrative tasks. No points to the one who saw to it that the rent was paid on time, that the pension allocations were taken care of, or to the one who had the welcome mats changed when they got dirty. No points to the one who took care that the green plants stayed green.

When I started working at Wolle & Wolle we had stretched our suppliers’ patience, and credit limits, to the breaking point. The authorities awaited an opportunity to sic the sheriff on the gentlemen Wolle and Wolle.

I became the firm’s rescuer in distress.

It didn’t happen overnight. Slowly I won the confidence of our external suppliers. I convinced them. The hedgehog who came with new doormats relied on the fact that from then on he would be paid within twenty days. An eagle at the tax office knew that I was always available to take his questions. The animals