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Monika took her shoes off and padded into the cold water of the lake. She was still shaking slightly from her altercation with Martin.
‘Going for a swim?’ asked her sister as she did her buttons.
‘No, just wanted to cool down a bit.’
‘It’ll cool you down all right – it’s icy. Lovely though.’
‘Mama said we had to hurry.’
Helene rubbed her towel through her hair, her head cocked to one side. ‘OK, let’s go then.’
Helene walked ahead briskly, as she always did, and Monika had to trot to keep up. ‘Those twins were here,’ she said. ‘They were watching you.’
‘I know. I saw them.’
‘Didn’t you mind?’
‘No, they’re only boys.’
‘Shouldn’t we tell Mama?’
‘You can if you want to.’
She fully intended to. ‘One pushed me against a tree.’
‘Really? Why did he do that?’ Helene asked, sweeping away strands of wet hair from her face.
‘Because I said I was going to tell on them.’
‘So he pushed you against a tree? You poor girl.’
‘Yes. And he was going to hit me but his brother stepped in.’
‘Oh. In that case, you should tell mother. Nasty boys.’
They walked for a while in silence. Helene with her towel flung over her shoulder, surged ahead, the sun shining through her yellow blouse. The village came into view.
‘They come from Berlin,’ said Monika, running to catch up.
‘I know that.’
‘I want to live in Berlin one day.’
‘What’s wrong with here? Don’t you like it with us?’
Monika knew her sister was teasing but still, she answered carefully. ‘Of course, and I would come back all the time but think, Helene, think of all that excitement – the dance halls and the theatres and all those shops.’
‘Only any good if you can afford to go in them. You’d have to get a job.’
‘I will. I want to be a dancer.’
Helene laughed.
‘What’s so funny about that?’
‘Oh, Monika, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. If you want to be a dancer, you go ahead, go to Berlin. Become a dancer.’
As they walked down through the village, they saw Mr Fischbacher. ‘That’s the twins’ father,’ said Monika.
‘I know. He’s going to the café.’
‘Should we tell him – you know, about the boys spying on you?’
‘God, no. Don’t talk to him; he looks horrible.’