She had no choice but to wait, ration her energy and hope that Sigart was underestimating the police.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
Beatrice counted her breaths. If the time was passing down here, it would be up there too, up where the darkness was endless.
But it couldn’t possibly be as slow as down here. She counted on, counted and wished she had a watch so she could see how long she had already managed to hold out.
The worst thing was the cold. Her teeth were chattering uncontrollably and her fingers and toes had long since gone numb, which meant that any more attempts at climbing would be futile. She had already tried, again and again.
I’m so tired.
But going to sleep meant death. Not moving meant death. Despite that, Beatrice turned over onto her back in the water and propped herself against the shaft with her shoulders and knees, still paddling her hands to keep herself awake. She looked up and wondered if she would be able to tell when the sun rose. Whether a beam of light would push its way through the seams of the well cover.
That would give her some hope.
She paddled on half-heartedly. Once the world woke up again, someone would miss her. Florin would wonder why she hadn’t come into the office. He would probably call her at around nine or half-past. So late.
Unless there was news. Then he might get in touch sooner, maybe even around eight.
She flexed her fingers. Open, shut, open, shut. Were they even responding? She couldn’t feel a thing.
She tried to float. It didn’t work; it was much too narrow here. But her arms hurt so much.
Suddenly her mouth was full of water; she spluttered, gasped, spluttered again. Had she drifted off? The cold was paralysing her body and her thoughts; she had to keep herself awake somehow.
Beatrice began to sing. The first song that came into her mind was ‘Lemon Tree’ by Fool’s Garden. Her voice was loud, louder than she had expected, presumably because of the well shaft.
If someone was out there – maybe they would hear her?
She sang whatever songs she could think of, holding her breath now and then so as not to miss any sounds that might make their way down from above.
No. There was only silence, and the endless gurgling of her movements in the water. The world was a long way away and had no idea she was down here.
Beatrice only stopped singing when she realised it was using a dangerous amount of energy. But she could hum at least… the first English song that Jakob had learnt at school came into her mind.
He had sung it to her in the kitchen, hopping around with a beaming smile, and when he got to the words ‘diamond in the sky’ his eyes had got so big and round and…
Was she crying now after all? Her eyes were burning, and her nose felt swollen. The hum stuck in her throat like a cold, half-chewed lump of food.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
One. Two…
Mina doing a cartwheel on the living-room carpet. ‘Look at me, look at me!’
Jakob pulls three squashed dandelion flowers out from behind his back. ‘I picked them for you.’
‘Chin up, sweetheart,’ laughs Evelyn, and Achim says, ‘None of them look as beautiful as you in your uniform.’
Five. Six.
A croissant without jam. Crooked fingers. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ calls Evelyn cheerily. ‘Hold your head high, my girl. Even if your neck’s dirty.’
Head. High. Chin. Up. Cold, completely cold.
A cup with steaming coffee, the milk foam frothing. Florin places his hand on hers, a dark strand of hair falls forwards onto his forehead, uniting with the arc of his brow. ‘Beatrice.’
‘Yes.’ She says. She thinks. Has he heard her?
Jakob flings his arms around her neck. ‘Frau Sieber gave me a gold star.’
That’s true, Beatrice can see it shining. Twinkle, twinkle.
Now something falls. So loud.
Evelyn is singing Spandau Ballet’s ‘Gold’. She has such a beautiful voice.
‘Bea. Look at me.’
David is here too. What does he want? He’s pulling and tugging at her, it hurts. If she could speak, she would say she doesn’t want to see him any more. That she can’t.
He pulls at her, and she can fly.
‘We’ve got her!’
‘Bea!’
Don’t disturb me, not now.
‘We have to wake her up. Bea!’
Shaking. Pressure on her face. Light.
‘She’s opened her eyes. Thank God. Everything’s okay. Can you hear me, Bea?’
Yes. No. Slow.
Then things come back, the shapes, the names. Florin.
The cold.
Beatrice felt firm ground beneath her feet. Headlights cut through the dark grey of an early morning. People were walking close to her, many people. ‘Wha-w-w-’ Her mouth wouldn’t obey her.
Someone lifted her upper body and peeled off her shirt. ‘Where are the blankets? Why is it taking so long? Stefan, give me your jacket.’
The scent of chewing gum.
Florin was kneeling next to her, dripping wet. Bechner handed him a woollen blanket, and he put it around her shoulders, wrapping it so tightly that she couldn’t move her arms. Then he pulled off his own wet shirt.
‘The ambulance is on its way. It shouldn’t be too long now.’ Florin pulled her close to him, holding her tight against his chest. ‘We have to keep you awake, do you hear me? You’re hypothermic.’
‘H-h-how di—’
He held her tighter. ‘Your text message sounded strange. I brooded over it for five minutes and then called you, but your phone was turned off. You didn’t answer the landline, but I know that Achim—’ He left the sentence unfinished. ‘We had to look for Sigart, of course, and I had an uneasy feeling. Who could have kidnapped him from the hospital, completely undisturbed, without anyone noticing? So I spoke to his doctor on the phone and asked him what his condition was. ‘Not bad at all,’ the doctor said. He said he had recovered quickly, that the amputation wounds had been operated on, and that he could be released in two to three days if he didn’t get any infections. I asked about the blood loss and he said it wasn’t that bad. And the wound on his neck? He said it wasn’t that deep, and that no major arteries had been affected.’ Beatrice could feel him shaking his head. ‘Then things started to drop into place in my mind. I got in the car and drove round to Sigart’s flat, but there was no one there. Then I went to your place. I’m not sure exactly why.’
Florin’s chest rose and fell slowly and calmly. Beatrice tried to match the rhythm of her breathing with his. All around them, policemen were roaming around the meadow, and from snatches of their conversation she could tell they were looking for Sigart.
‘I kept a lookout for your car, but I couldn’t see it anywhere, even though there were plenty of parking spaces free in front of your building. So I rang your doorbell and tried to reach you on your mobile again. Then I drove back to Sigart’s flat and scoured the surrounding streets. That’s when I found your car.’
And you immediately worked out what had happened? Beatrice tried to get her question out clearly. It took a while, but she managed it.