The blind side of the heart - By Julia Franck Page 0,137

ground floor told me she saw you last week in Schuhstrasse coming out of that draper’s shop, what’s his name, Bader? Helene felt herself going red in the face. Baden, Herbert Baden, I’ve been buying from him since Christmas, he has very high-quality goods; you don’t get buttons like that anywhere else. Wilhelm had not looked at Helene; he had taken a long draught from his beer glass and said: My God, then you’ll just have to buy different buttons, Alice. Do you realize that you’re putting us both in danger? Not just yourself, me too.

Next morning, as soon as Wilhelm had left the apartment, Helene set to work. She scrubbed and scoured the stairs from the top floor to the entrance of the building. Finally she polished them until they gleamed and everything smelled of wax. When Wilhelm failed to notice the clean stairway that evening, she did not mention it. She was glad she had something to do; she did not just obey Wilhelm’s orders readily, she did so gladly. What could be better than the definite prospect of things that must be done, tasks where her only worry was that there might not be enough time to do them all? And Helene knew what to think of as well: the brown shoe polish, the streaky bacon for supper. What she liked best was to do jobs waiting to be dealt with before Wilhelm missed anything or had to go without. When he came home from work he said he was happy to know she was here at home and to have her around him. My little housewife, he’d taken to calling her recently. There was just one small thing he didn’t have yet, he said, smiling. He was eagerly waiting for the month of May.

The wind on the Hakenterrasse turned, and now it was blowing right in their faces. Wilhelm didn’t want her to cut up the second apple, he wanted to eat it properly, round the core. She handed him the whole apple.

And the big ship there, isn’t that a fine sight? Wilhelm took out his binoculars. He watched the gigantic freighter and said nothing for an unusually long time. Helene wondered whether she might tell him she was freezing; it would spoil his good temper. But his mouth was twisting anyway. I don’t quite like that name, though, Arthur Kunstmann. Do you know about Kunstmann?

Helene shook her head. Wilhelm raised his binoculars again. The biggest shipping company in Prussia. Well, that’s about to change.

Why?

Fritzen & Son do better business. Suddenly Wilhelm shouted: Get a move on, lads! He slapped his thigh, as if anyone rowing down there could hear him up on the hill. Our boys are going too slowly. Wilhelm lowered the binoculars again. Aren’t you interested? He looked at Helene with surprise and a little pity; at this distance she could make out only that he was talking about an eight rowing past the opposite bank down below. Perhaps he would lend her the binoculars so that she could share his pleasure? But Wilhelm had come to the conclusion that Helene wasn’t interested in rowing. He jammed the binoculars to his eyes and rejoiced. Gummi Schäfer and Walter Volle, they’ll win for us. Get a move on, for God’s sake! It’s a pity I have to be here to supervise the finishing touches to the work. I’d love to be in Berlin in August.

Our boys? Why would they win, what does it mean to you? Helene tried to pay no more attention to the crying baby and followed the direction of Wilhelm’s glance, looking down towards the water.

You don’t understand, child. We’re the best. The fair sex has no idea about competitive sport, but once Gummi’s won gold you’ll see what it’s all about!

What what’s all about?

Alice, darling! Wilhelm lowered the binoculars and looked sternly at Helene. He spoke menacingly, he liked to threaten Helene in fun when she asked too many questions. Helene couldn’t summon up a smile. Just thinking of the approaching night, their first night together as man and wife, kept her from even looking at him. Perhaps he took her questions as implying doubts of what he said, or as doubts of his own pleasure in it. Certainly his wife ought not to doubt him, she ought to respect him, and now and then be happy to keep quiet for him. A little jubilation wouldn’t be out of place either, just a very little quiet, cheerful, feminine jubilation, she