De Reuter made a short note. A tiny crease of anxiety appeared between his eyes.
‘Don’t mention that in court,’ he said.
‘No?’
‘People may take it the wrong way.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘They may think you’re a bit mad. And we must avoid that. So, you can see in the dark, can you? Well I never. I’ll go and make a fair copy of these notes now and get to work. I’ll visit as often as I can. Let me know if there’s anything you need; don’t be afraid to ask. I’ve got quite a number of clients, but your case is an interesting one, so I’ll be following it closely. Apart from that, are they treating you with respect?’
I gave him a sour smile, and wondered if he was naive, or if it was simply that he was living in a completely different world.
After he left, I stood and looked around my cell. I realised I could choose one of three ways to pass the time. I could lie on my bed with my hands behind my head. I could pace the small floor with calm, deliberate steps to keep my circulation going. Or I could sit at the desk in front of the window, and watch the sun’s reflected glow in the panes of the sanatorium.
Chapter 26
I was remanded in custody by the court for four weeks. When the time was up, it was extended by another four weeks. De Reuter had prepared me, and I didn’t let myself get worn down, I was ready to fight. I had a series of interviews with Randers, repeatedly declaring my innocence, and constantly reassuring him of my first-class qualities as a carer. But he continued to remain cocksure that I’d committed the murder. This worried me, because I couldn’t understand what it was based on. I clung to de Reuter, which was distasteful to me, since he who stands alone is strongest, well, that’s my theory. But he was my only hope in this difficult situation. And I felt he believed in my innocence, even though he claimed that it wasn’t exactly that he was interested in. He was simply working on damage limitation, as he put it. Nelly Friis was dead. Someone had to pay, but not more than necessary, that was his thinking. He had little time for revenge. And in his view that was the sole concern of our legal system. Society took revenge on behalf of the injured party. As if that could achieve anything, apart from ruining another human life.
It would be wrong to say that I and my lawyer became close. I’d heard of that sort of thing happening, but it didn’t happen in our case, I’m fairly stand-offish. But I was quite talkative during my interviews with Randers. Time and again I tried to explain that the others had gone behind my back. No one had breathed a word that there was anything unusual about Nelly’s death. She was collected by the undertaker and driven away, and we got on with our work. A new patient was being admitted because we had an empty bed. Randers often wanted to talk about my previous job at another nursing home, where I’d been employed for more than six years. There, too, they’d ganged up against me in a most unpleasant way. Until finally I’d decided to leave of my own free will. I’d like to point out that I’m not the argumentative type. I got on well with Janson. I never caused trouble in my cell, and I followed all the rules to the letter. As de Reuter had recommended.
Don’t be a difficult prisoner.
It never pays in the long run.
I’d habituated myself to the small space, the view from the window and the hard bed. The prison food was excellent. So good, that I had to ask Janson who worked in the kitchen.
‘Margareth makes the food,’ he told me. ‘And she has an assistant to help her. Oh yes, she’s a dab hand at the cooking. We’re glad she’s here, because we pinch a bit of grub ourselves, the staff here do, I won’t deny it. You mustn’t let on if there’s an inspection, because it’s against the rules. How’s things apart from that? Are you managing to get through the nights OK?’
I mentioned the moaning from the adjoining cell, but he only gave me a blank look.
‘No moaning persons in here,’ he said. ‘You must’ve dreamt it.’
I mentioned the ventilator on the wall just below the ceiling, and that at times a foul smell had seeped into the cell while I was sleeping. He glanced up at the wall, then shook his great head.
‘The only thing that comes in through that ventilator is fresh air,’ he maintained, and stared sympathetically at me because that was the sort of man he was.
‘I’ll tell you something,’ he said. ‘Many of the people who’ve been here a long time have problems when they finally leave. The world is too large, things happen too quickly, the noise is unbearable, the crowds in the streets are overwhelming. One of our charges finally got prison leave after serving four years. He hadn’t been in town half an hour before he collapsed.’
Chapter 27
Once again my life took a new and unexpected turn.
Janson, who worked tirelessly for the inmates, had managed to convince the other staff that I be allowed to work in the kitchen. With Margareth. For a few hours each day. Because I had no family, no friends who came to visit me and no relatives who wrote or phoned.
I had no one.
Other inmates occupied themselves in the workshop, making bookshelves and furniture. Others again used the gym, or studied in the library, trying to better themselves. But I was going to get kitchen work. I imagined that this Margareth must be rather a special person, as she’d chosen to cook for murderers and bank robbers.
Margareth was about the same age as me, and she wasn’t much to look at, at least not at first glance. Perhaps I’m being unkind, but I know beauty when I see it, and sadly, she was no beauty. She had dry, carrot-coloured hair and pointed elf-like ears. Dr Scholl’s on her feet, a faded apron with pockets and an old-fashioned, mauve blouse. The mauve made her own colour seem pale and slightly bluish. She came forward to meet me, her arms folded over her stomach, tight-lipped and with a sharp, appraising eye.
‘Can you use a knife?’ she asked.
‘I’m charged with murder,’ I said and smiled. Trying to be funny. ‘But I’m innocent,’ I added. ‘Just so you know.’
‘That’s what they all say,’ was Margareth’s response. ‘Nobody in here is guilty of anything. I’m not guilty, either,’ she went on, ‘but I have to come here and work myself to the bone just the same. That’s what things have come to.’
She weighed me up from top to toe, as if to see what sort of stuff I was made of. Then she turned and went to the work surface and began tidying. One of her stockings had a ladder in it. I said nothing. One doesn’t insult a woman in that way.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘we might as well make a start. We’re preparing lunch. You can chop fruit and vegetables for the salads. Wash your hands over there, and do it properly, I’m keeping an eye on you. We don’t want any food poisoning here, because when twenty people are ill all at the same time, it’s a nightmare. And I’m speaking from bitter experience.’
I nodded like some mechanical puppet, clenched my teeth and did as I’d been told, while Margareth got out a chopping board and two knives. A small one with a short, pointed blade, and another slightly larger one with a serrated edge. She went to the fridge and took out fruit and greens, sweet peppers, mushrooms and cucumber, lettuce, beetroot, apples, oranges and grapes. She placed them on my work surface, and nodded. Her movements were swift and efficient, she was obviously used to working quickly.
I found myself in an oasis. Of course, there was a lot of steel and plastic, and the ceramic tiles glinted coldly, but after endless weeks alone in that bare cell, the fruit and vegetables crowding my work surface were like a fresh and luxuriant world.