Frau Kessel’s death put an end to the gossip about me, but I had not quite heard the last of the affair with Kai von Jülich. On the whole I was relieved that Kai had left the town. In a way my wish had been granted; I had wished him away and he had gone. He would no longer be able to propagate his own repulsive version of events, while I was spared the embarrassment of running into him and perhaps provoking an ugly scene. I was not particularly interested in where Kai had gone, just as long as he stayed away. All the same, I should have realized that not everyone would feel the way I did.
One morning, about a week after Frau Kessel’s funeral, I was clearing a table at the front of the cafe when I became aware that there was someone standing on the other side of the big plate-glass window, looking in. We were so close that if there had been no glass between us, we could have reached out and shaken hands. For a split second, when all I had taken in was a tall shape with bright sunlight behind it, I thought it might be Jochen or one of the others come to confront me with their demands. I jumped and knocked over a coffee cup, spilling dark dregs on to the tablecloth. While I was blotting the mess with a napkin I hazarded another glance at the person outside the window and this time I recognized her.
It was Frau von Jülich, Kai’s mother. As far as I could recall, she had never set foot inside the bakery in her life, but still I would have known her anywhere. She was distinctively tall, with the same dazzlingly blonde hair and high cheekbones as her son, the same brilliant blue eyes, although hers were framed with a network of very fine lines. As usual she was dressed like a visiting countess, in a dark woollen suit which had probably cost more than my mother’s entire wardrobe. I was just as surprised to see her peering through the bakery window as if Max’s wish had come true and Heidi Klum really had turned up in Bad Münstereifel with a beseeching look on her face. I could not help glancing around to see what it was that had caught her interest, but there was nobody else around. My mother had vanished into the kitchen and I was alone in the bakery.
A minute later the bell jingled as Frau von Jülich entered the cafe, pausing for a moment on the threshold with the cautious air of a pedigree cat about to cross a farmyard.
I abandoned the table I had been clearing.
‘Guten Morgen,’ I said as politely as I could, although I had a sinking feeling.
Frau von Jülich did not look like the sort of person who pops into the local bakery for a cheese and ham roll in a paper bag. I guessed that she had other business here, either with myself or with my parents, and it was hard to say which was the worse option.
‘Guten Morgen,’ returned Frau von Jülich. She stood before the counter, not making any move towards a table. For what seemed like a very long time she simply studied me. Then she said, ‘Are you Stefanie Nett?’
There was no point in prevaricating. ‘Yes,’ I said.
Frau von Jülich glanced around her, as though she were looking for something. Her manner was oddly uncertain, considering her formidable appearance. Then she tried a smile.
‘May we sit down for a moment?’ she asked.
It was the first time a customer had ever asked me to sit with them. I was nonplussed.
‘Would you like a cup of coffee?’ I asked.
She shook her head. ‘No – thank you.’ She put a slender hand on the back of one of the chairs at the nearest table. ‘Shall we sit here?’
I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. I wished with all my heart that my mother would reappear from the kitchen and rescue me, but there was no sign of her. Reluctantly I took my place at the little table, sitting ramrod-straight, my hands clasped in my lap, where the folds of my apron hid their nervous twisting.
‘I’m not really supposed to sit down,’ I stammered rather idiotically.
The carefully plucked eyebrows rose just a fraction, although the faint smile was still on her lips. ‘I’m sure you can spare two minutes from your work,’ she said.
Since the cafe was deserted apart from the pair of us, this was undeniably true. I said nothing.
‘I have something to ask you,’ said Frau von Jülich, and now she really was smiling at me, all her perfect white teeth showing, although there was something in her eyes which told me that the smile was put on. She was anxious about something – perhaps even as nervous as I was. ‘You are a friend of Kai’s, aren’t you? My son, Kai?’
A friend? I stared at her.
‘Not really,’ I said, and since something more seemed to be called for, I added reluctantly, ‘I know Kai, though. Sort of.’
She leaned forward. ‘You met Kai once or twice, didn’t you?’
‘Once,’ I said. ‘We went out once but … it didn’t really work out.’ That’s an understatement, I told myself, recalling Kai’s handsome face distorted with fury and the shower of gravel as he had driven past me in the Eschweiler Tal. All the same, I didn’t have the nerve to tell his mother the truth, that her son was a brute, a peacock with the soul of a pig. Probably she would not even believe me.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, although I was not sure what she was sorry about: for asking me something personal or for my ill luck at not managing to net such a prize.
I said nothing. There was nothing I could possibly think of to say to Kai’s mother. The moment of silence stretched out between us.
Suddenly she put out one hand and touched me lightly on the shoulder. ‘Please,’ she said, and with astonishment I realized that she was near to tears, ‘if you know where Kai has gone, or why, please tell me.’ Her brittle manner was cracking like a thin veneer. In spite of her perfectly coiffed hair and expensive clothes she was still just someone’s mother, worrying about her child.
I hated to be blunt, especially to this sophisticated woman, who would probably think me a guttersnipe once she had calmed down. I saw, however, that I would have to speak plainly.
‘Frau von Jülich, I know what people are saying.’ I was conscious of the gaze of those blue eyes, so like Kai’s. I swallowed and made myself go on. ‘That I’m – pregnant. And that Kai had to leave because of it.’ I couldn’t look at her. Instead I studied my clasped hands with their white knuckles. ‘It’s absolutely not true. We just went out once and –’ I winced – ‘nothing happened. I don’t know where he is and I haven’t heard from him. I swear it.’
Silence. I wondered whether Frau von Jülich had finally succumbed to tears and risked a glance at her face, but she simply looked tired, very tired.
‘I’m really sorry,’ I added.
‘No,’ she said, turning that vivid blue gaze on me. ‘There’s nothing to be sorry for. Thank you for being frank.’
She stood up and I rose too.
‘Frau von Jülich?’ It seemed too brazen to ask, but I had to know. ‘Have you heard anything from Kai?’
She nodded wearily. ‘He texted his father. He says he’s not coming back – but he doesn’t say why, or where he is.’
I could not ask her anything else. I stood at the door of the bakery and watched her walk away up the street, a slim, elegant figure who could have passed for much younger than her fifty years, head held high in spite of her burden of worry. I wondered what she would say if she knew I had wished her son dead.