Gretel and the Dark (12 page)

Still nothing. He sighed. Presented with a sympathetic listener, his female patients were usually eager to provide him with information far in excess of what was necessary, glad of an opportunity to air their problems and disparate griefs, tentatively to voice hopes and dreams, to talk and talk, and then talk some more. The ‘talking cure’, he thought, wryly, and then wished he hadn’t. With a sinking feeling Josef recalled his stern issuing of orders during their previous session. The role of a parade-ground sergeant did not come naturally. He raised his voice, enunciating each word so clearly he achieved a harshly staccato effect that made Gudrun gasp and drop her mending.
‘You must answer my questions immediately, Lilie. Tell me
now
– have you remembered your given name?’

Startled, she shifted her gaze to his waistcoat buttons. ‘I told you, we don’t have names. Our numbers are all that’s needed.’ Josef glanced at the smudged digits on her exposed arm but didn’t comment.

‘Very well. In that case, let’s continue to call you Lilie.’ He leaned back, then changed his mind, bringing himself upright, adopting a more formal tone and a pose more in keeping with the barking of commands. ‘Your parents, then, Lilie. First, your mother.’

‘A mechanical girl has no mother. It is constructed not born.’ She continued to stare at his chest, at his fob pocket, perhaps. So her mother was dead, or had abandoned her. To a child these things were one and the same. In spite of that, Josef could detect no show of emotion.

‘Very well, Lilie. Continue. What profession did your father follow?’

‘Father?’ The slightest of frowns creased her forehead and her voice became that of one reciting a learned text. ‘
He collected bones from charnel-houses and disturbed, with profane fingers, the tremendous secrets of the human frame
.’

Josef blinked and leaned forward, suddenly excited. ‘Ah, a quote from Mary Shelley – you allude to
Frankenstein
.’ He hesitated. They were approaching quagmire ground. Dead mother, unnatural father – the very situation warned against in old fairy stories. It was, moreover, Sigmund’s territory. ‘So this is the monster, then? Your father?’

For a fraction of a second, Lilie lifted her eyes to his. ‘Frankenstein wasn’t a monster. He was the
maker
of monsters.’

‘Agreed.’ Josef nodded, noting how skilfully she’d evaded his
question. He was no longer certain the girl was experiencing any form of amnesia. This was something else … something new to him and therefore far more interesting. ‘And yet weren’t Frankenstein’s actions monstrous enough to make him one in his own right?’

‘Because he used parts of dead human bodies? Or was it because he dared to create life? What he did, others now do better.’ Lilie made a gesture that encompassed her entire body. ‘As you can see.’

Gudrun had sworn to stay silent, but her rabbinical mutterings could be clearly heard between the weary ticks of the clock. Josef shot her a look of deep reproach, which was ignored. In future, different arrangements would have to be made. To Lilie, he said: ‘An interesting subject, and one to which we will undoubtedly return. However, now I would like –’ He stopped to adjust his voice. ‘Answer the question, Lilie. Is the monster you seek your father?’

‘I have no father.’

‘Very well. Then we’ll talk about the monster. Is he human?’

‘He was once.’

‘How did he lose his humanity?’

‘That’s what happens to self-made monsters. This one’s no exception. And every time he opens his mouth he spawns more monsters.’

‘Like Zeus?’ Josef made a note of this new diversion. He also observed that, as had happened before, once Lilie started to fantasize there was no longer any need for compulsion.

‘No, Zeus had his skull split and produced one warrior.
This
monster only spews out creatures like himself.’

‘Is that so?’ Josef tapped the notepad with his pen. ‘Frankenstein’s monster had no name. Does this one?’

‘He does.’

‘And what is it?’

Lilie didn’t answer for a long moment. ‘
Adi
.’

Unlikely, Josef thought, that a monster would have a pet name. In all likelihood she’d invented it on the spur of the moment. Another evasion? Nevertheless, he made a note of it.

‘Will you help me to find him?’ asked Lilie.

Josef hesitated. He was considering employing the storytelling methods he’d used with Bertha Pappenheim, another one possessed of strong imaginative powers: apparently there’d been an outpouring of little allegorical stories since, some privately published. For a brief moment he wondered if Bertha was involved in this. Could she –
would she
– have planted an actress here as part of some complicated revenge strategy? If so, what damning errand was it that Lilie wanted him to embark on? And why attack him now? Since that terrible night of self-humiliation she’d maintained a dignified silence. Even after his
Studies on Hysteria
had been published and it was possible for anyone in the Pappenheim circle to work out who Anna O must be – even then she had said nothing. Josef tugged at his beard, forcing his attention back to the present. Lilie was still staring at him.

‘Will you help me?’ she repeated.

Her eyes met his and Josef felt them working an age-old magic. His gaze dropped to her pretty mouth. A man might promise away his soul rather than refuse a request from such lips. It was his turn to be evasive.

‘In a sense, Lilie, yes. Or rather, I will help you to confront what he represents.’

‘But that’s no good. What he represents doesn’t need explaining to me. I have to stand before him in the flesh.’

‘Oh, and what happens when you do?’

‘I’m going to destroy him,’ she said, her voice laced with the slightest tinge of impatience.

‘You’ll take away this monster’s malevolent powers – bring bell, book and candle against him? Or fetter him like Azazel, the fallen angel?’ He smiled. ‘Or do you mean to simply trap him in a bottle and bury him in the Red Sea?’

‘It’s no joke,’ Lilie said, looking at him askance. ‘I’m going to kill him.’ She brought both hands together as though wrapping them round an invisible column. Josef watched, fascinated, as she wrung the air. ‘I shall put the
Unmensch
out of his misery –’

‘But –’ Josef swallowed hard and decided against mentioning the law. ‘
Can
such an evil creature as you describe exist in a state of misery? Surely he relishes his actions. They make him what he is. Do you mean there are mitigating factors?’

‘They say he screams in his sleep, reliving old terrors. He counts aloud the strokes as the night passes. He –’

‘It sounds,’ said Josef, ‘as if you pity him.’

‘I merely state the facts. A machine has no emotions.’

‘And yet you wish to kill him?’

‘That is my task. It’s why I’m here. Will you help me?’

It was Josef’s turn to be evasive. ‘To take a man’s life is not an easy thing –’

‘It’s the easiest thing in the world,’ said Lilie. ‘It’s much easier than giving birth. And considerably quicker.’

Josef’s hackles rose on hearing such a chilling statement delivered in the girl’s sweet voice. For once, Gudrun’s huffings and puffings of protest at his back were a relief. He said nothing, simply waited.

‘Will you help me?’ Lilie asked again.

‘I can’t be a party to murder, Lilie,’ he said gently. ‘And neither can you.’

She smiled, as if to herself. ‘Hanna told me how it would be.’

‘Hanna?’ Josef scribbled the name on his pad. ‘Who is Hanna?’

‘Your granddaughter.’ Lilie looked away and closed her eyes as if battling with some strong emotion. She gave a long, juddering sigh, like one who’d only recently ceased weeping. At last, Josef thought … then suddenly took in what she’d said. He looked up, alarmed.

‘You’ve been misinformed, my dear. I have no –’

‘Margarethe’s daughter,’ said Lilie, screwing the fabric of her skirt into a tight knot.

Josef laughed out loud, almost drowning Gudrun’s tut-tutting. ‘But she’s not even married.’ He sat back, strangely relieved. And yet a vague disquiet lingered. ‘Do you imagine yourself able to see into the future?’

‘A machine isn’t ruled by time. If you stand outside it, past, present and future events can be viewed as a tableau, so I can see enough.’ She looked him straight in the face. ‘What I’ve told you is the truth. Laugh if you like, but the monster poses a grave threat to at least four women in your family.’

Even though he knew this was all part of Lilie’s fantasy, a small frisson of fear ran up Josef’s spine. ‘Go on.’

‘To tell you more would sour your life. But I ask you again, in the light of what I’ve told you, will you help me carry out my task?’

‘I will give the matter more thought.’ Josef glanced at the clock and found to his surprise that it was well past midday. ‘
Mittagessen
,’ he announced, capping his pen and closing the notebook. He doubted Lilie would eat any lunch, and who could blame her
if Gudrun served up, as promised, her noxious
Knoblauchcremesuppe
. Garlic soup! Already his digestion was rebelling at the thought of another surfeit of the stuff. ‘That’s enough for now. We’ll talk of it again later. Ah,’ he added, in response to a bout of throat-clearing from the window, ‘one other thing. I think, Lilie, that you’d benefit from gentle physical activity. Would you be willing to help Gudrun with some light household duties?’

‘If you wish,’ said Lilie. ‘After all, don’t they say work liberates one?’

‘The cheeky young
Fratz
!’ exclaimed Gudrun, springing to her feet. ‘Hear that? She’s been listening at keyholes. You know what happens to eavesdroppers, my girl? They hear no good of themselves, that’s what.’

Lilie kept her eyes cast down. But Josef was almost sure she smiled.

Lilie stood at the table, head averted, eyes closed. Tears streamed down her cheeks. One hand gripped a large knife with which she blindly hacked to pieces a peeled onion held by the other. In spite of her obvious discomfort, Benjamin, peering round the open door, thought he’d never seen a lovelier sight than Lilie clothed in domesticity. After a few moments she mopped her eyes with a corner of apron, sniffing loudly.

‘For pity’s sake, girl!’ Gudrun roughly pushed her aside. ‘What sort of job do you call that? Think I want finger ends in the stock? Out of my way. You’re about as much use as a sundial in a cellar. And don’t just stand there, daydreaming. There are still the peas to be podded.’

‘All of them?’ asked Lilie, looking at the heaped basket. ‘There’s enough here to feed –’

‘We can never have too many. The master is very partial to
fresh green peas with spearmint. Also, my own special version of
Erbsensuppe –’

‘So many soups,’ said Lilie, wrinkling her nose. ‘Every single day.’

‘You’re the only person who doesn’t enjoy them,’ retorted Gudrun. Still out of sight, Benjamin stifled his mirth too late, for she called: ‘If that’s you at last, slacker, stop your spluttering and coughing and get in here. The knives need sharpening.’

‘Try using your tongue,’ he muttered, stepping into the kitchen.

‘What was that?’

‘Here I am,’ said Benjamin cheerfully. ‘Ready and willing.’ He took the proffered whetstone and lined up the knives. ‘Good afternoon, Lilie.’

‘Once upon a time –’ whispered Lilie, snapping open the first pod.

‘Play-acting again,’ said Gudrun, shaking her head as the onions were ferociously diced and flung into the stockpot. ‘If you could have heard the nonsense this morning …’ She made a great show of looking around the room. ‘And where are the herbs I asked for earlier – the sage, thyme, marjoram and the chives?’

‘– the prince of a far-off kingdom wanted a wife who, in addition to being beautiful and well-educated, also had to be a
real
princess. He sought high and low but couldn’t find –’

Gudrun clicked her tongue. ‘Hurry up with those peas. We haven’t got all day.’

‘– a princess who wasn’t
too old
,
too ugly
or a
peasant
in disguise,’ continued Lilie, head bent over her work. ‘One dark, stormy night –’

‘I know this story,’ put in Benjamin. ‘Doesn’t the prince –’

‘– a beautiful young woman, dressed in rags, soaked to the skin and looking as unlike a princess as you could imagine, knocked at the palace door. She claimed to be the most real of all real princesses. The prince’s mother decided to test her –’

‘The knives,’ snapped Gudrun. Seizing a metal bowl, she cracked a dozen eggs into it and began whisking vigorously, glaring at Benjamin until he started whetting the blades. Lilie’s lips continued to move as the noise in the kitchen crescendoed into something resembling an attack with steel rods on a hornet’s nest. It stopped abruptly.

‘… said she’d had a sleepless night,’ Lilie whispered, into the silence, ‘for she’d been kept awake by something hard in the bed.’ Benjamin snorted. Gudrun scowled. ‘And her entire body was a mass of bruises. The prince rejoiced, for only a real princess would have the sensitivity to feel a tiny pea through so high a stack of feather mattresses. They were married the same day. Which proves’ – here Lilie threw the last peas into the basin, the empty pod into a bucket – ‘you should never judge a person solely by the evidence of your eyes.’ She folded her hands in her lap.

‘You’ve finished them,’ Gudrun said, amazed. ‘So you can exert yourself, when you’ve a mind to.’

‘Good story,’ Benjamin said admiringly. Last night he’d persuaded himself she was simply a maidservant, that there was a chance for him. He wondered now how he could ever have thought such a thing. His heart sank. Still, for her sake, he’d put even more effort into ferreting out the truth. He’d visit Hugo again in a day or two. The fat journalist was the nose and ears of Leopoldstadt: sooner or later every bit of slimy gossip slithered within his reach. And, before that, he’d tackle the Thélème, that latter-day Gomorrah. There must be some way
of getting inside. He was struck by a sudden realization: when he’d told the doctor the club didn’t take on young men because of all the girls, it hadn’t been strictly true. Men of a certain type were employed … those who had no interest at all in the charms of women. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering what damage it might do to his reputation. Never mind. Others could think what they pleased about him, if only Lilie would look his way.