The Valkyrie Song

7

Ute Cranz examined herself in the mirror. It was like looking at a stranger.

She was tall and slim. Beneath the expensive clothes her body was lithe and sleek. She had spent a great many hours working on her body. Making it strong, supple, graceful. But she felt disconnected from it. Dislocated from the person who stared back at her, cold and blankly, from the glass.

As a little girl, Ute, like her sister, had excelled as a gymnast. She could have gone far — international competition — but her parents had not approved of what they saw as the abuse of her body. Enjoy your sport for what it is, her father had once told her, but don’t let them abuse your body, damage your health, for the sake of a falsehood. She hadn’t understood then, but she did now. She had seen what they had done to her sister. Margarethe had told her what they had done. Each visiting time a little more, a new horror.

They had stolen Margarethe’s life. What they had done to her was like rape. No, it was worse. They had destroyed her, taken away her humanity. Then, when it became clear to them that she wasn’t up to what they wanted, they cast her away.

Ute turned from the mirror and crossed the lounge to the window that looked down onto the street. No sign yet. She looked at her watch. A few more minutes. Crossing back to the mirror, she applied a little more make-up and pushed at her hair with her hands.

She had planned her costume carefully: it was dressy without looking too much for this time of afternoon on a Wednesday. And it was exactly at this time of afternoon on a Wednesday that Herr Gerdes came home. He lived in the top-floor apartment — the one with the roof terrace. Ute had established that Herr Gerdes lived alone, although she had no idea if he was divorced, a widower or a confirmed bachelor. He really was a quiet neighbour: the only sound she had ever heard issuing from his apartment was the music he listened to — Brahms and some Bruch, she thought — and she had only heard that occasionally when making her way up to her own apartment.

Ute laid her hand on the brass snib, eased the door open and listened. After a moment she heard the outer door downstairs slam shut and the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She stepped out onto the landing just as Herr Gerdes reached it.

‘Oh, hello, Frau Cranz,’ he said, and smiled. He was wearing a chunky polo-neck jumper under an expensive-looking tweed coat. He carried pale pigskin gloves in one hand. ‘It’s a cold one today. Are you going out?’

‘I’m glad I caught you, Herr Gerdes,’ she said formally and ignoring his question. ‘As you know I’ve not long moved into the apartment and I have a problem with the lease. I wondered if you could explain it to me.’

‘Well,’ he said, frowning. ‘I would love to, but at the moment…’

‘Oh no — not right now.’ She gestured an apology. ‘I wouldn’t impose on you at such short notice. I was thinking… well… I wondered if you would join me for a meal on Saturday evening.’ There was a short silence and she rushed to fill it. ‘You see, I don’t get the chance to cook for anyone any more and I’ve got these fillets…’

He silenced her by taking a step towards her, his smile broadening. ‘Frau Cranz, I would be delighted.’