The blind side of the heart - By Julia Franck Page 0,22
and on her back.
They had walked to the causeway lying concealed beyond the vineyard; you could reach it only by passing the willows that grew there. The ground was black and slippery. Come on, called Martha, several metres away, and she ran ahead with Arthur. They jumped from tree stump to tree stump, the soft ground yielded, their bare feet sank into it. Little puddles of gurgling water stood everywhere. Swarms of tiny midges were swirling in the air. Here, at this bend of the river, the Spree had made itself a small bay where the ground underfoot was not firm, land on which few people out for a stroll would ever tread. Marsh marigolds were flowering wherever you looked. The daisy chain that Martha had made Helene on the meadow by the river bank threatened to slip off her head; she held it on with one hand, using the other to carry her shoes and hold up her dress to keep it from getting muddy. It was difficult to see where the ground was at all firm, it kept giving way and, fast as they ran, putting their toes down first, their feet were soon black up to the ankle. The sword-shaped leaves of water lilies had a silvery sheen in the sunlight.
Arthur had put on his bathing costume behind a willow tree and was first into the water; he had flung himself into the current and was flailing about frantically with his arms to keep from being carried downstream. He looked as if he were treading water. The wind blew through the reeds, they swayed and bent down to the surface. Next moment the wind blew everything the other way, the yellowish-green twigs, the curving blades of grass as they bowed down. The rushing sound broke against Helene’s ears. Although Arthur kept calling to them, Martha couldn’t make up her mind to follow him. She didn’t have a bathing costume, she had grown so fast last year that her old one didn’t fit any more.
Let’s leave our petticoats on and just paddle in the water.
Martha and Helene took off their dresses and hung them over the branch of a low-growing willow. The water was icy cold, the chill went right through their calves. When Arthur came close to the bank and made as if to splash them with water, the girls fled. Martha squealed and laughed, and kept calling Helene’s name. Arthur wanted to lie on the grass with Martha at the foot of the slope further downstream, but Martha took Helene’s hand and said she couldn’t go anywhere without her little sister. And there might be grass stains if they lay down in their petticoats. Arthur said she could sit on his jacket, but Martha declined. She pointed to her mouth and showed Arthur how her teeth were chattering.
I’ll warm you up. Arthur put his hands on Martha’s arms, he wanted to stroke them and rub them, but now Martha made her teeth chatter as loudly as she could.
Arthur brought Martha her dress, told her to put it on again and Martha thanked him.
Later the two sisters sat snuggling together on the slope, side by side. A little way further up, Arthur had found some small wild strawberries, and now he was crawling around the meadow on all fours. From time to time he came back to the girls, knelt down in front of Martha and offered her a handful of berries on a vine leaf.
No sooner had he left again than Martha took the berries and put them alternately in Helene’s mouth and her own. They fell on the grass and looked up at the clouds. The wind had died down around them and now carried only a faint scent of wood from the sawmill. Helene breathed in the aroma, mingled with the sweet perfume of some kind of flowers. Martha saw the shape of a hussar in the sky; his horse had only forelegs and even those disappeared if you watched for any length of time. While there seemed to be almost no wind down here, the clouds up above were driving eastwards faster and faster. Helene said she could see a dragon, but Martha said dragons have wings.
No wonder everyone’s talking about mobilization, Arthur called down to them. Seeing you two lying there like that, I don’t feel as if picking berries were difficult!
The sisters exchanged meaningful glances. Arthur’s main interest was in being close to them, they were sure, not in mobilization. Neither