Read The Other Side of Silence Online
Authors: André Brink
R
outine is also what
marks her years in service. Soon after she has recovered from the
pneumonia, even before she has completely regained her strength,
she is placed out for the first time. Frau Agathe has found ‘just
the right people’ for her – a couple with four small children, a
fifth on the way. Hanna is still devastated by the knowledge that
she will never go to school again; but there is some consolation in
the prospect of leaving the Little Children of Jesus for good. And
she persuades herself that the couple who will be employing her,
the Klatts, do not seem too daunting. Frau Hildegard,
straight-backed, with steely eyes, her blonde hair drawn into a
tight bun behind her head, is emphatic about her belief in strict
discipline; one would have to step carefully with her – but then,
Hanna is used to that. And Herr Dieter appears friendly enough, a
jovial, prosperous-looking banker with a large smooth pink
face.
There is one problem at the beginning, but it does not, at least
not at first, seem insurmountable. The orphanage does not allow her
to take anything away with her when she leaves – with the sole
exception of the shell from the little foreigner on the
Weserstrand, which Frau Agathe scornfully dismisses as childish
nonsense. Even her worn and frayed clothes must be left behind for
some sad successor. Which means that Herr and Frau Klatt will have
to provide a new outfit and at least one change; this is readily
resolved when Frau Hildegard and Frau Agathe come to an agreement
that whatever is supplied by the Klatts will be deducted from
Hanna’s wages at a fixed rate. As it is standard practice for half
of the wage of 40 marks per month to be paid directly to the
orphanage, it leaves a mere pittance for Hanna’s own use. This
doesn’t bother her much, as she has never had money anyway. But it
does become problematic when she discovers that there are all kinds
of hidden expenses she has to meet: small items like soap and
candles and even sugar, and her meals over weekends, when she is
theoretically off duty (although with nowhere to go she has little
choice but to stay on in her cubbyhole of a maid’s room in the
cold, dark attic of the Klatts’ home; which also means that she
remains at their beck and call). And of course she is expected to
bear the cost of all breakages. Given her habit of dropping plates
and dishes and cups, and even more expensive objects like the vases
or ornaments she is required to dust every other day, the
deductions very soon exceed her wages. In addition, Frau Hildegard
has devised a system of fines for everything she regards as a
transgression or a dereliction of duty: oversleeping in the
morning, arriving late for meals, forgetting to bring in the
washing, neglecting to clean up after the children, reading during
working hours, or simply ‘causing a nuisance’.
These costs mount up so rapidly that after the second month
Hanna realises she will not be able to work off the debt in a whole
year. When she raises it with Frau Hildegard, the woman dismisses
it laconically:
“No need to worry about it. If you behave yourself you’ll be
with us for many years.”
“But with no money at all?”
Frau Hildegard shrugs. “That’s entirely up to you, isn’t
it?”
By this time Hanna has established that Frau Hildegard is not a
happy person. More precisely, that her only happiness derives from
being unhappy. She bears the world a permanent grudge. The reason
is not quite clear, as Herr Dieter has assured her a comfortable
enough life – mough not, as she is always quick to point out, as
comfortable as the life she was used to in her father’s home. She
has a grudge against her children, she has a grudge against most of
her friends, she has a huge grudge against her in-laws, she has a
grudge against her dark house and, above all, she has a grudge
against her husband because he always grins as if life need not be
taken seriously. Very soon, inevitably, she also develops a grudge
against Hanna.
At the end of the third month, when Frau Hildegard mentions in
passing what her accumulated debt now amounts to, Hanna asks to see
her account.
“Account?” asks Frau Hildegard. “What do you mean, your account?
Isn’t it enough if I tell you what you owe?”
“Please, I want to see a paper,” says Hanna.
“I don’t have time for it now.”
“Then can I have it tomorrow?”
After four days of polite enquiries Frau Hildegard brusquely
deposits a handwritten statement next to Hanna while she is doing
the washing. “I trust you will find it in order,” she snarls.
That evening after work Hanna carefully studies each item and
marks with a cross what she finds unclear. When she serves
breakfast the next morning she places the amended statement next to
Frau Hildegard’s plate.
“I marked the things I don’t understand,” she says quietly.
“I didn’t drink you could read,” snaps the woman.
“This little one is cleverer than you think,” remarks Herr
Dieter, laughing.
“I don’t see anything funny in it,” his wife hisses at him. She
turns to Hanna: “I’ll attend to it when I have time.”
When after another two days she appears to have dismissed the
matter Hanna gently reminds her just as she prepares to go out
shopping.
“I made out the statement myself. I’m sure it is correct,” says
Frau Hildegard, turning away to put on her hat.
“Then if you don’t mind, I’d like to go through it with you,”
says Hanna.
The paper, it turns out, has been misplaced.
“I remember what was wrong,” says Hanna, unperturbed. “First,
you said I broke three cups. It was only two. And that I lost one
of Herr Dieter’s shirts in the wash. But it was only a sock, which
little Gretchen took to make a puppet. And…”
Frau Hildegard explodes: “Are you telling me I’m a liar?”
“No, Frau Hildegard. I’m only saying there were some mistakes:
And when one has as little money as I have a single pfennig can
make a difference.”
“Are you complaining about your wages now?”
This is when Herr Dieter comes in from the garden to go to the
bank, leaving mud-tracks all over the floor, which Hanna will have
to mop up later. “What’s all this squabbling about?” he asks
benignly, winking at Hanna.
“This – this
wench
is accusing me of cheating her!” (The
word she uses is
Dirne
.)
“It was only a few mistakes, if you please, Herr Dieter,” Hanna
points out in a faltering voice. “She says I lost one of your
shirts in the wash…”
“I can’t remember missing a shirt,” he says. “A sock, yes. But I
think I saw Gretchen making off with it.”
“Are you siding with a young guttersnipe against your own wife?”
asks Frau Hildegard, nostrils flaring. “And in my condition…”
“I’m just trying to be fair,” he says jovially. “Anyone can make
a mistake.”
“I do not make mistakes,” Frau Hildegard hits back, tearing the
hat from her head and marching off to her bedroom where, they both
know, she will now spend the rest of the day with compresses on her
forehead.
“I’m so very sorry, Herr Dieter,” stutters Hanna. “But I need my
money, and in this way I shall never earn anything.”
“I’ll sort it out with her,” he promises. And he gently pinches
her cheek. “Leave it to me.” Just before he turns away he appears
to change his mind and comes back. “Would you be interested in
earning a few pfennig on the side?”
She looks hard at him, but there seems to be no guile or threat
in his smiling pink face. “I’ll do anything, Herr Dieter.”
“At what time do you finish your work?” he asks.
“At eight o’clock, Herr Dieter. But sometimes Frau Hildegard
wants me to do the darning after mat.”
“Not tonight,” he says firmly. “Come to my study just after
eight.”
She doesn’t move. “Herr Dieter…?”
“Now off you go,” he orders with a bright smile.
All kinds of uneasy thoughts keep tumbling through her mind as
she picks her way through the day’s tasks: making the beds and
sweeping the floors, taking the children to the park, going to the
market, cooking lunch, doing the washing, polishing the silver,
preparing dinner, putting the children to bed. And then it is eight
o’clock.
He looks up when she appears in the doorway to the
Herrenzimmer.
“Close the door, Hanna,” he says, pushing away his ledgers,
leaning back, folding his arms on his broad chest. “Come closer.
You’re not scared of me, are you?”
She shakes her head, swallowing hard. The scene suddenly reminds
her so much of Pastor Ulrich’s parsonage that she breaks out in a
sweat.
“How old are you, Hanna?”
She tells him. Then adds in a hurry, “I don’t do bad things,
Herr Dieter.”
“I wouldn’t dream of expecting bad things from you,” he says, so
kindly that her misgivings begin to seep away. “Come, sit down.” He
points to an easy-chair at the other side of the desk.
She approaches, but chooses not to sit down.
“I’ll be frank with you, Hanna,” he says. “You’re not what one
would call a particularly pretty girl.”
She looks at him without expression.
“But you do have lovely hair.”
Still no reaction from her.
“Show me your titties,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone as if
he is asking to check her fingernails.
Hanna takes a few steps back, turning her head fleetingly to
calculate the distance to the door.
“I promise you I’m not going to lay a finger on you,” he says.
He thrusts a hand in the pocket of his house jacket and takes out a
small assortment of coins and puts them on the corner of the desk.
She does not count them openly but even a quick glance tells her
that this may amount to several days’ wages.
She makes no movement.
“Take off your shirt,” he says again, tapping one finger very
lightly on the small pile of coins.
“Please, Herr Dieter,” she says, her voice catching in her
throat.
“I’m sure you have very charming little tits,” he says.
“You really are not going to touch me?” she asks.
“I give you my word.” He remains sitting in his big chair behind
the desk.
She stares at him for several seconds, then at the money, before
with a little shrug – what strange creatures men are – she raises
her hands and starts unbuttoning, with dumb fingers, her plain
white shirt. Again she looks at him, then draws apart the two
flaps.
“Take it off.”
She takes a deep breath and shakes the garment from her
shoulders, still briefly, instinctively, covering her breasts with
her hands, then resigns herself, her eyes fixed on a spot on the
floor. Embarrassed, vexed with herself, she feels her nipples
stiffen.
He is silent for such a long time that she finally has to look
up. There is a curiously intense expression on his fleshy face. But
he says nothing. At last he gives a small, stifled moan, moves one
hand across his face, and says, “You can go now. Thank you.”
She is in such a hurry that she only does up half the buttons;
and she is already at the door when he says, “Your money.”
Flustered, she turns back, glances cautiously at him – but he
seems to have lost interest in her and has returned to his ledgers
– and shuffles hurriedly to the desk, scoops up the money, dropping
a few coins, bends over to retrieve them, bangs her head against
the desk as she straightens up too quickly, and scurries out.
Nine days later (Hanna keeps count), when she is summoned to the
study again after the day’s work is done, she once more,
perfunctorily, as if she is taking off a sock, bares herself to the
man’s command; but this time he gets up behind the desk and says,
“Would you mind if I touched them?”
“Just touch?” she asks.
“Just touch.”
“All right. But that will cost more.”
In the weeks that follow, his touching, which at first is a mere
brushing with the fingertips, becomes bolder; some times, when he
has been carried away somewhat by the squeezing and kneading, her
breasts feel tender and painful and keep her awake during the
night.
She never lets on though, but she does insist, very
apologetically, on a few extra pfennig.
The time comes, soon after Frau Hildegard has been confined with
her fifth child, when Herr Dieter asks, as a special favour, if she
would mind taking off all her clothes. Only if he promises not to
touch her below her navel, she says. He accepts. Later he will
offer her double the past rate for the privilege to touch, but
Hanna refuses. It is a difficult decision, because it may mean two
whole marks more, and Frau Hildegard has really gone crazy with her
fines in recent weeks; but in the end she remains resolute. She
will not have another Pastor Ulrich, not even if he pays.
I
n the meantime the
daily routine becomes ever more charged with chores and duties.
Since the birth of the new baby the other children have grown more
demanding; it is seldom before ten o’clock that Hanna is allowed to
creep upstairs with her meagre light. (She has considered giving up
the candle to save money, but she is too scared of the dark where
terrible things lurk.) Many nights she is required to carry the
baby upstairs with her, if Frau Hildegard, who bears the child a
most unconscionable grudge, needs an undisturbed sleep. And he
seems to have permanent diarrhoea, which means so much more
washing. In addition there are all the errands to be run, what with
Frau Hildegard incapacitated most of the time.
The only escape, on some of her rare days off, is the visits
Hanna pays to Fraulein Braunschweig at her old school. It means
spending a few of her hard-earned pfennig on the tram, but there is
no other way as the Klatts live far from the centre and if she goes
on foot it will take the whole afternoon. They talk non-stop. There
is always so much to tell, not about the work because it is not
worth wasting time on that, and not about Herr Dieter, because she
finds that too embarrassing; but about the children whom she likes
even in spite of the trouble they cause and the pranks they play on
her; and about her thoughts, and the books the teacher has lent
her, and her dreams of a distant future when she will be out of
service and working in a library or a bookshop, earning money for
her travels around the world.