kilometres per hour. Overtake, hear the sound of the engine, go on and on. Breathe. Die.
ten
Blum wanted to understand him. Why he liked and needed that sense of speed. She wondered why he was prepared to die. Every time he accelerated, every time he broke the speed limit, he must have felt he was flying. But he had a family, children, love. A moment would have been enough, a brief moment of inattention.
I love it
, he said.
It’s like a song, like dancing, like champagne. You must try it, Blum, just once. I’ll look after you.
He’d been trying to persuade her for years to get on the bike and share that sensation with him. She’d said no for so long. Now she has felt what he felt. It was like falling, like nothing else mattered, nothing existed but herself.
She has been riding for an hour. No one has stopped her; no police, no speed camera. She has been gambling with her life for an hour, has imagined her head striking the central reservation, crashing into the windscreen of an oncoming vehicle. She pictured her death as she rode. She died in full colour, and came home uninjured. The world is in order. Karl is putting the girls to bed, Reza is unloading a body from the van.
‘Thank you, Reza.’
‘You don’t have to say that.’
‘Yes, I do, Reza. Nothing here would work without you.’
‘It’s all right.’
‘Who do you have there?’
‘A woman from the care home. We had to carry her out through the kitchen.’
‘Why through the kitchen?’
‘They didn’t want the other inmates to see that someone had died.’
‘Inmates?’
‘Residents.’
‘Why through the kitchen, for God’s sake?’
‘Because they didn’t want to remind the inmates that their days are numbered too.’
‘We agreed on
residents
, right?’
‘That’s fine by me.’
‘Her family?’
‘Coming tomorrow. They want to see her one last time. The grave’s booked, the funeral’s organised.’
‘Reza, you’re the best. If you need more help, just say so.’
‘Everything’s fine.’
‘Is it really?’
‘Well, no.’
‘You don’t talk about how you’re feeling.’
‘Mark was my friend. It’s like a cake without candles.’
‘A cake?’
‘Mark was the candle on the cake.’
‘I know.’
‘He was just blown out.’
‘I know. It’s dark without him. But today Karl said that we’ll get through this.’
‘Did he? That’s good. Very good.’
‘We will, Reza. We’ll get through it together, you, Karl, the girls and me.’
‘Yes.’
‘It will get better.’
‘When?’
‘Soon, Reza, soon.’
Blum goes upstairs. She almost believes it herself; for a moment something positive flares in her, something like hope. Riding the motorbike was an intoxicating sensation. She has survived, she has felt what he felt, she has challenged her fate. She knows she is meant to live not die. The decision has come down in favour of life, of the children, of everything that hasn’t happened yet. And in favour of Dunya. She is going to find out what happened, find out about that woman and what terrifies her so much. Blum wants to know; something tells her that it is important, that it is not delusion but truth. Mark believed that, so she believes it too. He wanted to help the woman, and so does she. She has no alternative, she has heard what happened to Dunya, and she can’t pretend that it didn’t. She pressed Play. There’s nothing else she can do; she will listen to everything again. She looks in on the children, lies down with them for a little while, kisses them and disappears into his study.
She sits in his chair, the telephone in her hand, listening to that incredible story. The abduction of three people, rape, imprisonment, horror for years on end. It had all begun harmlessly enough; they were supposed to start a new life working in the mountains, escaping an impoverished country. She had been smuggled into Austria, and wanted to leave her native Moldavia far behind. There were no prospects for her
ten
Blum wanted to understand him. Why he liked and needed that sense of speed. She wondered why he was prepared to die. Every time he accelerated, every time he broke the speed limit, he must have felt he was flying. But he had a family, children, love. A moment would have been enough, a brief moment of inattention.
I love it
, he said.
It’s like a song, like dancing, like champagne. You must try it, Blum, just once. I’ll look after you.
He’d been trying to persuade her for years to get on the bike and share that sensation with him. She’d said no for so long. Now she has felt what he felt. It was like falling, like nothing else mattered, nothing existed but herself.
She has been riding for an hour. No one has stopped her; no police, no speed camera. She has been gambling with her life for an hour, has imagined her head striking the central reservation, crashing into the windscreen of an oncoming vehicle. She pictured her death as she rode. She died in full colour, and came home uninjured. The world is in order. Karl is putting the girls to bed, Reza is unloading a body from the van.
‘Thank you, Reza.’
‘You don’t have to say that.’
‘Yes, I do, Reza. Nothing here would work without you.’
‘It’s all right.’
‘Who do you have there?’
‘A woman from the care home. We had to carry her out through the kitchen.’
‘Why through the kitchen?’
‘They didn’t want the other inmates to see that someone had died.’
‘Inmates?’
‘Residents.’
‘Why through the kitchen, for God’s sake?’
‘Because they didn’t want to remind the inmates that their days are numbered too.’
‘We agreed on
residents
, right?’
‘That’s fine by me.’
‘Her family?’
‘Coming tomorrow. They want to see her one last time. The grave’s booked, the funeral’s organised.’
‘Reza, you’re the best. If you need more help, just say so.’
‘Everything’s fine.’
‘Is it really?’
‘Well, no.’
‘You don’t talk about how you’re feeling.’
‘Mark was my friend. It’s like a cake without candles.’
‘A cake?’
‘Mark was the candle on the cake.’
‘I know.’
‘He was just blown out.’
‘I know. It’s dark without him. But today Karl said that we’ll get through this.’
‘Did he? That’s good. Very good.’
‘We will, Reza. We’ll get through it together, you, Karl, the girls and me.’
‘Yes.’
‘It will get better.’
‘When?’
‘Soon, Reza, soon.’
Blum goes upstairs. She almost believes it herself; for a moment something positive flares in her, something like hope. Riding the motorbike was an intoxicating sensation. She has survived, she has felt what he felt, she has challenged her fate. She knows she is meant to live not die. The decision has come down in favour of life, of the children, of everything that hasn’t happened yet. And in favour of Dunya. She is going to find out what happened, find out about that woman and what terrifies her so much. Blum wants to know; something tells her that it is important, that it is not delusion but truth. Mark believed that, so she believes it too. He wanted to help the woman, and so does she. She has no alternative, she has heard what happened to Dunya, and she can’t pretend that it didn’t. She pressed Play. There’s nothing else she can do; she will listen to everything again. She looks in on the children, lies down with them for a little while, kisses them and disappears into his study.
She sits in his chair, the telephone in her hand, listening to that incredible story. The abduction of three people, rape, imprisonment, horror for years on end. It had all begun harmlessly enough; they were supposed to start a new life working in the mountains, escaping an impoverished country. She had been smuggled into Austria, and wanted to leave her native Moldavia far behind. There were no prospects for her
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