"Our grandfather had that double name, Claus-Lucas. Our mother, who had a great deal of affection for her father, gave us these two names. It's not Lucas standing here before you, Peter, it's Claus."
Peter gets up. "Very well, Claus. In that case I must give you something that your brother Lucas left with me. Wait here."
Peter goes up to the apartment. He comes back shortly after with five large school notebooks.
"Here. These are meant for you. He had a lot more to start with, but he took them back, corrected them, erased everything that wasn't indispensable. If he'd had the time I think he would have eliminated everything."
Claus shakes his head. "No, not everything. He would have kept what was essential. For me."
He takes the notebooks, he smiles. "At last, here is the proof of Lucas's existence. Thank you, Peter. Has anyone read them?"
"Apart from me, no."
"I'm staying at the hotel across the way. I'll be back."
Claus reads all night, occasionally raising his eyes to look at the street.
Above the bookshop the light stays on for a long time in two of the three windows in the apartment. The third stays dark.
In the morning, Peter raises the metal shutter of the shop. Claus goes to bed. After noon, Claus leaves the hotel. He has a meal in one of the bars in town where they serve hot dishes all day.
The sky is overcast. Claus goes back to the playing field, sits next to the river. He stays there until night falls and it begins to rain. When Claus arrives back at the main square the bookshop is already closed. Claus rings at the front door of the apartment. Peter leans out of the window.
"The door is open. I was expecting you. Just come up."
Claus finds Peter in the kitchen. There are pans boiling on the stove.
Peter says, "The meal isn't ready yet. I've got some brandy. Would you like some?"
"Yes. I've read the notebooks. What happened afterward? After the death of the child?"
"Nothing. Lucas kept on working. He opened the shop in the morning, he closed it at night. He served his customers without saying a word. He hardly ever spoke. Some people thought he was mute. I often came to see him. We played chess in silence. He played badly. He didn't read or write anymore. I think he ate very little and hardly slept. The light was on all night in his room, but he wasn't in. He went walking in the dark streets of the town and in the cemetery. He said that the best place to sleep was the grave of someone you'd loved."
Peter is silent; he pours the drinks.
Claus says, "And then? Go on, Peter."
"Five years later, in the course of the work being done to lay out the playing field, I heard that the body of a woman had been discovered buried in the riverbank, near your grandmother's house. I told Lucas about it. He thanked me, and the next day he disappeared. No one has seen him since. On his desk he left a letter entrusting the house and the bookshop to me. The saddest thing about this story, you see, Claus, was that Yasmine's body was never identified. The authorities botched the whole affair. There are bodies in the ground everywhere in this unhappy land since the war and the revolution. This body could have been any woman who had tried to cross the border and stepped on a mine. Lucas wouldn't have been questioned."
Claus says, "He could come back now. There's the statute of limitations."
"Yes, I suppose so. After twenty years there is a statute of limitations." Peter looks Claus in the eyes. "That's right, Claus. Lucas could come back now."
Claus counters Peter's gaze. "Yes, Peter. Lucas will probably come back."
"They say that he's hiding in the forest and that he roams the streets of the town after dark. But that's just talk."
Peter shakes his head. "Come to my room, Claus. I'll show you Lucas's letter."
Claus reads: "I entrust the house and the bookshop that forms part of it to Peter N.-on the condition that he maintain the premises in their present state-until my return or, failing that, the return of my brother Claus T. Signed: Lucas T."
Peter says, "He underlined 'in their present state.' Now, whether you are Claus or Lucas, this house belongs to you."
"Listen, Peter, I'm only here for a short time, on a thirty-day visa. I'm a foreign citizen, and as you know, foreigners are not allowed to own any property here."
Peter says, "But you can accept the profits from the bookshop which I've been depositing in a bank every month for the last twenty years."
"What do you live on, then?"
"I have a government pension, and I rent out Victor's house. I only take care of the bookshop for you two. I keep careful accounts, you can check them."
Claus says, "Thank you, Peter. I don't need the money, and I don't wish to check the accounts. I came back only to see my brother."
"Why didn't you ever write to him?"
"We decided to separate. It had to be a total separation. The border wasn't enough. We needed silence as well."
"Yet you came back. Why?"
"The test has lasted long enough. I'm tired and ill. I want to see Lucas again."
"You know that you won't see him again."
A woman's voice calls from the next room.
"Is there someone there, Peter? Who is it?"
Claus looks at Peter. "You've got a wife? You're married?"
"No, it's Clara."
"Clara? She isn't dead?"
"We thought she was, yes. But she was just in prison. Shortly after Lucas disappeared she came back. She had no job and no money. She was looking for Lucas. I let her stay at my place, that is, here. She has the small room, the child's room. I take care of her. Do you want to see her?"
"Yes, I'd like to see her."
Peter opens the door of the room.
"Clara, a friend has come to see us."
Claus goes into the room. Clara is sitting in a rocking chair in front of the window, with a blanket over her knees and a shawl around her shoulders. She is holding a book, but she's not reading it. She is staring into space through the gap in the window. She is rocking.
Claus says, "Hello, Clara."
Clara doesn't look at him; she recites in a monotonous voice, "It's raining as usual. Fine, cold rain, falling on the houses, the trees, the graves. When they come to see me the rain trickles over their distorted faces. They look at me and the cold grows more intense. My walls no longer protect me. They never protected me. Their solidity is mere illusion, their whiteness is stained."
Her voice changes suddenly. "I'm hungry, Peter! When do we eat? With you the meals are always late."
Peter returns to the kitchen.
Claus says, "It's me, Clara."
"You?"
She looks at Claus, holds out her arms to him. He kneels down at her feet, rests his head on her knees. Clara strokes his hair. Claus takes Clara's hand, presses it against his cheek, against his lips. A thin, wizened hand, covered with the marks of old age.
She says, "You left me alone for a long time, too long, Thomas."
Tears run down her face. Claus wipes them away with his handkerchief.
"I'm not Thomas. Have you no memory of Lucas?"
Clara closes her eyes, shakes her head, "You haven't changed, Thomas. You've aged a little, but you are still the same. Kiss me."
She smiles, revealing her toothless gums.
Claus draws back, stands up. He goes to the window, looks out to the street. The main square is empty and dark in the rain. Only the lighted entrance of the hotel is visible in the dark.
Clara starts rocking again. "Go away. Who are you? What are you doing in my room? Why doesn't Peter come? I want to eat and go to bed. It's late."
Claus leaves Clara's room, he finds Peter in the kitchen. "Clara is hungry."