Therapy

Would Josy be alive if I'd kept a closer eye on her?

  A:

  Vodka.

  Q:

  Why did I wait for half an hour in Dr Grohlke's clinic instead of sounding the alarm?

  A:

  Absolut or Smirnoff. Doesn't matter so long as there's enough.

  Viktor leant back and stared at the ceiling. He was impatient to hear the end of Anna's story. There was still no news from Kai about the car crash, but he wasn't prepared to wait. He had to know what happened next. He needed more details, details that might reveal new connections, no matter how remote. And he needed a drink.

  He chuckled again. It would be easy to convince himself that there were valid medical grounds for adding a dash of rum to his tea. Some varieties of alcohol were supposed to help against colds, but Viktor had left his trusted helpmates on the mainland and come to Parkum alone. Over the past few years most of his conversations had been conducted with Jim Beam and Jack Daniel's. In fact, he had come to depend on them so completely that his mind had been filled with a single obsessive thought: when could he call on them again?

  Isabell had tried to intervene. She had talked to him, looked after him, commiserated with him, and pleaded with him.

  When the angry phase was over, she did what anyone would advise an alcoholic's wife to do: she dropped him. Without so much as a goodbye, she upped and moved to a hotel. She didn't even call. He only noticed her absence when he ran out of supplies and felt too wretched to make the trip from the house, past the busy Wannsee lido, to the service station.

  Then came the pain of sobriety – and with it, the memories.

  Josy's first tooth.

  Her birthdays.

  Starting school.

  Unwrapping a bike at Christmas.

  Car journeys.

  And Albert.

  Albert.

  Viktor gazed out of the window at the dark sea. He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the light footsteps in the hall.

  Albert.

  If there was one reason why he had stopped drinking, it was him.

  Back in the days when Viktor had a life and a job, he would leave the office at five o'clock and take the motorway in the direction of Spanische Allee. Shortly after the Funkturm interchange he would pass the dilapidated grandstands that in times gone by had been packed with spectators enjoying an evening out at the Avus speedway, now converted into highway A115. As he drew level he would see an old man with an ancient ladies’ bicycle standing by a gap in the fence. The old fellow waited in the same place almost every evening, gazing after the passing cars. It was the only section of motorway from Wedding to Potsdam that hadn't been blocked off by noise barriers and tall screens. And whenever Viktor hurtled past at a hundred kilometres per hour, he would find himself wondering why a person would be interested in watching the rear lights of car after car. Viktor never had time to look at him properly. He passed him on hundreds of occasions, but he was always driving too fast to make out the expression on his face. In spite of their almost daily encounters, he would never have recognized him on the street.

  One evening, after a family outing to the Franco-German Volksfest in Reinickendorf, Josy noticed him too.

  ‘What's he doing?’ she asked, leaning round to watch through the rear window.

  ‘He's confused,’ was Isabell's phlegmatic response.

  It didn't seem to satisfy Josy. ‘I think he's called Albert,’ she murmured softly, just loud enough for Viktor to hear.

  ‘Why Albert?’

  ‘Because he's lonely and old.’

  ‘I see. And lonely old men are called Albert, are they?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said simply, and so it was settled. From then on, the old man was no longer a stranger and Viktor caught himself nodding at him as he drove home from work.

  ‘Hello, Albert!’

  Several years later, when he woke from an alcoholic stupor on the marble bathroom floor, it dawned on him that Albert was looking for something too. Whatever Albert had lost, he was obviously trying to find it in the stream of passing traffic. He and Albert were two of a kind. Viktor jumped into his Volvo and raced to the gap in the fence. Even from a distance he could tell that the old man wasn't there. He wasn't there the next day or the next day either. Albert was nowhere to be found.

  Viktor knew exactly what he wanted to ask him. ‘Excuse me, I was wondering what you were looking for. Have you lost someone too?’

  But Albert steadfastly refused to show himself. He was gone.

  Like Josy.

  On the eighteenth day of driving to Albert's old haunt, Viktor gave up and drove home to start another bottle. Isabell was waiting at the door. She handed him a letter. It was from the editor of Bunte, requesting an interview.

  ‘Dr Larenz?’

  The voice scattered his thoughts. He stood up suddenly, ramming his right knee against the desk, then breathed in a mouthful of tea and spluttered frantically.

  ‘Oh goodness,’ said Anna who was standing right behind him. ‘It's my fault, Doctor, I shouldn't have startled you again.’ She stayed where she was, watching passively as he struggled for air. ‘The door came open as soon as I knocked. I'm awfully sorry.’

  Viktor knew full well that the door had been locked, but accepted her apology with a nod. He raised a hand to his head and realized that he was pouring with sweat.

  ‘You look worse than yesterday, Doctor. I should probably go.’

  He could feel her looking at him and he suddenly realized that he hadn't said a word.

  ‘No, stay,’ he said, his voice a little louder than intended.

  Anna tilted her head to the side as if she hadn't fully understood.

  ‘Stay,’ he said again. ‘I'll be fine. Take a seat. I'm glad you came. There's a couple of things I'd like to ask you.’

  12

  Anna took off her scarf and coat and made herself comfortable on the couch. Viktor returned to his usual position at the desk. He clicked his mouse and pretended to be scrolling through her case notes when really the information was saved in his head. It was just a ploy to buy himself time – he needed to steady his nerves if he was to quiz Anna about what she knew.

  As he waited for his heart to slow to an acceptable rate, he realized it would take a supreme amount of concentration to focus on Anna's words. He was experiencing the kind of frazzled fatigue and achey lethargy that generally came from partying all night. Worse still, it felt as if the back of his skull was being squeezed in a vice. He clutched his head to stop the pounding and gazed at the sea.

  The crashing waves were an inky blue, darkening by the minute as clouds accumulated overhead. Visibility was already restricted to two nautical miles and the horizon seemed to be creeping steadily closer to the shore.

  Viktor studied Anna's reflection in the window. She poured herself a cup of tea and waited for him to begin. He angled his chair towards her. ‘I'd like to pick up where we left off, if I may.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Anna raised the delicate cup to her mouth and Viktor wondered whether her lipstick, a conservative shade of red, would leave a smudge on the Meissen china.

  ‘You said that Charlotte left without telling her parents.’

  ‘That's right.’

  My daughter wasn't a runaway, thought Viktor. After pondering the matter all night, he had come to the conclusion that there had to be more to Josy's disappearance than a childish attempt to run away from home. She simply wasn't the sort.

  ‘Charlotte set out on a quest to discover the cause of her illness,’ said Anna. ‘That's the gist of the story – or the opening twenty-three pages at least. A little girl falls ill, can't be cured, and runs away from home. That's as far as I got.’

  ‘You said you weren't able to finish the story. Why do you think that was?’

  ‘Just the usual, I'm afraid. I ran out of inspiration and abandoned the project. I saved the opening chapters in a folder on my computer and didn't give them another thought.’

  ‘U
ntil Charlotte showed up.’

  ‘Exactly. Her appearance marked a turning point. I wasn't new to schizophrenia – I'd seen colours, heard voices, met characters from my stories, but Charlotte was different. This time the hallucination was incredibly real.’

  Because it wasn't a hallucination?

  Viktor raised his cup and wondered whether the bitter taste came from the tea or from the nasal spray that he was using to clear his catarrh. Even his taste buds had been affected by his cold.

  ‘You said that Charlotte was nearly run over by a car.’

  ‘Yes, that was the first time I saw her.’

  ‘Where did you take her after that?’

  ‘It was the other way round,’ said Anna firmly. ‘She took me. I just followed.’

  ‘How would you explain her motivation?’

  ‘She wanted to know why her story only had two chapters. She said, “I want to be well again. What happens next?” She told me to finish the book.’

  ‘In other words, you were instructed to keep writing by a character created by you?’

  ‘Precisely. In any case, I was perfectly honest with her. I told her I didn't know how the story ended, so there was nothing I could do.’

  ‘What did she say to that?’

  ‘She took me by the hand and promised to show me where the story started. She said, “Maybe you'll think of an ending when you see where it all began.”’

  Where what began?

  ‘Where did she take you?’ he asked.

  ‘I don't know the name of the place, but we drove for a while to get there. It was a bit of a blur.’

  ‘Tell me in as much detail as you can.’

  ‘We went back to my car and joined the motorway heading west. God knows which exit we took. The main thing I remember is that Charlotte was strapped in. Crazy, isn't it? My imaginary character was afraid of getting hurt. The absurdity of it struck me at the time.’

  To Viktor, it made perfect sense. Josy had been taught by her mother to wear a seat belt at all times.

  ‘How long did it take to get there?’

  ‘Over an hour. We went through a little village. I remember seeing some old buildings – Russian architecture, I think.’

  Viktor stiffened, waiting nervously for what he was about to hear. He was gripping his seat like a patient at the dentist's.

  ‘There was a Russian Orthodox chapel on a hill in some woods. We crossed a bridge, continued for a couple of kilometres on the road, then turned on to a forest track.’

  He listened incredulously. No . . .

  ‘We drove another kilometre and stopped in a narrow lane. I parked the car.’

  No, there's no way on earth that . . .

  Viktor had to force himself not to leap out of his chair and shout at the top of his voice. He knew the place she was describing. He had driven there most weekends.

  ‘Where did you go after that?’

  ‘We walked down a path. We had to go in single file, but I could see she was taking me to a building. It was a little wooden house, like a cabin only nicer. It couldn't have been located in a more beautiful spot.’

  A log cabin in a clearing. His thoughts were coming faster than Anna's words.

  ‘It was the only house for miles. The forest went on forever; evergreens, beeches and birch. Some of the trees had shed their leaves, and there was a springy carpet of richly coloured autumn foliage on the ground. The weather was cold for November, but there was a cosiness to the place. At the time it seemed real, but everything was so luminously beautiful that I can't help wondering whether it was part of the delusion – like Charlotte.’

  Viktor was wondering the same. It was hard to know which explanation would be preferable. Did he want Anna's hallucinations to be connected to his daughter's disappearance? Or was it better to think that the parallels were coincidental? He had to be careful about projecting his memories of Josy on to Anna's story. After all, the cabin she was describing wasn't necessarily his. There were scores of similar properties all over the Havelland.

  He knew exactly how to find out.

  ‘So you and Charlotte were standing outside the cabin. What could you hear?’

  Anna looked at him doubtfully. ‘Do you think it will help with my therapy?’

  No, but I need to know.

  ‘Yes,’ he lied.

  ‘Nothing. I couldn't hear a thing. I remember thinking how quiet it was. It was like being at the top of the tallest mountain with nothing for miles.’

  Viktor acknowledged her answer with an earnest nod, barely controlling the urge to bang his head wildly like a heavy metal fan. It was exactly what he had expected her to say. He knew beyond a doubt where Charlotte had taken Anna. Sacrow Forest, midway between Spandau and Potsdam, was renowned for its tranquillity. The stillness was the first thing that city dwellers noticed about the place.

  Anna seemed to guess his next question. ‘I asked Charlotte where we were, but she obviously thought I should know. “Don't you recognize the house?” she said crossly. “We used to come here most weekends, especially in the summer. I had my last good day in this cabin – before it went wrong.”’

  ‘Before what went wrong?’ probed Viktor.

  ‘I assumed she was talking about her illness, but I didn't like to ask. The subject seemed to make her angry. “You're the novelist,” she said irritably, pointing to the cabin. “Something happened in there, and it's your job to write it down!”’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘I had to find out what had happened. Charlotte had made it clear that she intended to plague me until I finished the book, but I couldn't very well describe the cabin without going inside. I broke the glass in the back door and walked in.’

  Josy let her break into the cabin? Why didn't she use the spare key?

  ‘I thought I'd be able to find out what was making Charlotte ill.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘No. I didn't know what to look for. I was surprised by the size of the cabin. I was expecting to find three small rooms, but there was a spacious kitchen, two bathrooms, a lounge with a fireplace and a couple of bedrooms at least.’

  Three, he corrected her silently.

  ‘I went through all the cupboards and drawers – I looked everywhere, literally everywhere, including the toilet cistern. It didn't take long because the place was pretty bare. The furniture was expensive – but plain.’

  Isabell's choice: Philippe Starck and some quality Bauhaus.

  ‘Did Charlotte come with you?’ asked Viktor.

  ‘She refused to cross the threshold. Whatever had happened must have been really traumatic. I hunted about inside while she stood on the porch and shouted instructions.’

  ‘Can you give me an example?’

  ‘It was all a bit cryptic. She said things like, “Don't look for what you can see; search for what's missing!”’

  ‘Did she explain what she meant?’

  ‘No. I wanted to ask her, but there was no time for questions.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I don't like to talk about it, Dr Larenz.’

  ‘It's important to try.’

  The hesitation in her eyes reminded Viktor of how she had clammed up completely the previous day.

  ‘Can we talk about it tomorrow?’ she said pleadingly. ‘I want to go home.’

  ‘That wouldn't be wise. It's better to get it over with.’ He was shocked at himself for deceiving a patient. Anna had come to him for therapy, but this was an inquisition.

  There was silence while Anna considered.

  At first he was sure that she would stand up and leave, but then she placed her hands in her lap and sighed.

  13

  ‘I hadn't noticed the light was fading,’ she continued, ‘but suddenly I couldn't see a thing. It was probably only half past four – sundown was pretty early at that time of year. In any event, it was dark in the cabin, so I went back to the sitting room, borrowed a lighter from the mantelpiece and used the radiance from the s
mall flame to light my way down the hall. At the far end was a door I hadn't noticed before. It looked like a broom cupboard or something.’

  Josy's room.

  ‘I wanted to take a closer look, but then I heard voices.’

  ‘What sort of voices?’

  ‘Actually, it was a single voice, a man's voice. He wasn't talking; he was crying. It sounded as if he was whimpering to himself. The noise was coming from the room at the end of the hall.’

  ‘How could you tell?’

  ‘The whimpering got louder as I approached.’

  ‘Weren't you frightened?’

  ‘I managed to stay calm for a bit, but then Charlotte started screaming.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Viktor hoarsely. He could feel the rawness in his throat when he talked.

  ‘She wanted me to leave. She was yelling at the top of her voice, “He's coming! He's coming!”’

  ‘Who did she mean?’

  ‘I don't know. In the same moment that Charlotte started shouting, the whimpering stopped. I was right outside the door and the handle was moving. I felt a draught and the lighter went out. Then a terrifying thought occurred to me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The danger that Charlotte was warning me about had been there all along.’

  The telephone rang. Viktor, who was itching to ask the next question, hurried to the kitchen to take the call. The touch-tone phone had been installed at Isabell's insistence. She refused to stay in a house without a modern phone.

  ‘Hi. I'm not sure whether this is good news or bad,’ said Kai without preamble.

  ‘Just be quick,’ whispered Viktor, not wanting Anna to overhear.

  ‘OK, the traffic accident: I put one of my best fellows on it, and I made a few enquiries myself. We know two things for certain. First, a couple of cars rear-ended on Uhlandstrasse on the afternoon of November 26.’

  Viktor's heart missed a beat, only to speed up alarmingly.

  ‘Second, it had nothing to do with your daughter's abduction.’

  ‘What makes you so sure?’

  ‘A guy stumbled into the road and nearly got run over. According to the witnesses, he was drunk. There was no sign of any kid.’