Celia

Chapter 56

Lies and love

 

Christine and Philip were standing slightly behind Celia looking down on the mobile photo – each of them from over one of her shoulders. Mai and Simon remained seated, but they leaned sufficiently over the table to be able to see the picture clearly. At the police station Celia briefly told Mai what she considered to be the motive for the two murders, but she did not show her the message from the overnight cup club.

 

Several seconds passed before Philip was the one to break the silence – with an observation. -It’s remarkable how she’s like her present-day look. Features of her face – her smile. I can well understand why Linda recognized her.

 

He was about to add that «she was beautiful», but he held back – it didn’t feel appropriate on the occasion.

 

-She arrived, by the way, here at the club about twelve years after this photo was taken. Mai looked up at Philip. -I checked this morning.

 

-I think she told her story almost immediately coming here. Celia continued as Christine and Philip were about to sit down again. -Maybe Johnny was the one to receive her when she came. So she probably told him first. These may in part be my guesses, but ...

 

-It’s fair to assume that she has in various contexts – perhaps just as an additional remark – mentioned her past as a gymnast champ. But I think she first and foremost used Johnny to make sure people knew. And Johnny readily did so. In fact, he continued to run her errand – even now close-to thirty years later.

 

Philip intervened when she made a short break. -I know that before long she became a key figure in this club. For a period she ran a small gymnastics group. Has been a member of our board for as long as anyone can remember. When the cafeteria was started, she took charge of the activities there. Participated in arranging all cups and tournaments. And even more. I guess she used most of her spare time here. She became a person everyone related to the club – in the same way as ... Johnny.

 

-And she was of course respected for all the things she did here, Celia went on. -But I think that at the same time she relished the acknowledgement of being a former champion – talked about or not. They all knew – and they were all meant to know – even if no one cared about the details. This background was in a way part of what she was here – what became her life.

 

Scratching against the floor from a chair being pushed backwards – as Christine were stretching her legs. She looked up into the air as if she did not know to whom she was speaking.  

 

-But would there be any reason to ... kill ... anyone? What if she’d just responded with a good smile? --- just laughed at Linda? Okay – I made a couple of things up a hell of a lot of years ago - so what? No one cares about that any longer.

 

-The full moon. Everyone is looking at it. You’re bound to notice it.

 

The unexpected response to Christine’s objection made four heads turn to stare in astonishment at Celia.  

 

She understood that they needed an explanation. -On our way home ... from the school prom. Beatrice. She wanted to be something ... so that people spotted her – and watched her. Like the full moon. I think maybe she was trying to ... impress Simon.

 

A fast glance towards her right-side companion. -And she went on to say that if you do something when you’re young - making lots of folks pay attention to you - you can live on that for the rest of your life.

 

-I think the important thing is … She turned to Christine. -...how Emma was thinking.  How she viewed the possibility of someone revealing her secret. Imagine Linda – or Peter – going to people in the club telling them something like «what they say about Emma once being a gymnast champ – that’s just bullshit ... now listen to this ...». I’m convinced that in Emma’s head she could not live with that – she would lose everyone’s respect, at least she believed so herself – she would lose what she’s got here.

 

-And the man she cared about.

 

Celia looked in surprise over at Simon. Even though she instantly understood what he meant, he was probably the last person she would have expected to say it.

 

-You are right that what she’s got in this club has been her life. For once Simon was trying to meet and catch Celia’s glance. -And I think the most important part of all this, is Johnny. They’ve been around here ... both of them ... for how long – almost thirty years? Close to each other. Having each other. In a way she used him as well – to create the image of her as a former gymnast queen. But I’m certain it was not just cynical. I think she was ... terribly fond of him.

 

-Like a good friend? Or more than that? … a relationship? Christine challenged his thoughts.

 

Celia stepped in to conclude before letting Simon respond. -And she was convinced that she would lose Johnny if Linda was allowed to gossip about ... the lie of her life.

 

-No, Christine – good friend … relationship – neither. Simon shifted his eyes from his school mate to the newspaper lady obliquely behind her. -Well ... I’m ... far too young to know for certain, but ... it wasn’t what we normally mean when we talk about a ... relationship. But it was real ...  He removed his glance from Christine to focus on the tabletop before pronouncing the last word. -... love.

 

-So you’re saying that Emma was hopelessly in love with Johnny for several decades?

 

-No, no. Simon shook his head. -In no way hopelessly. It was absolutely mutual. Yes – they were here together. Worked together. Did a lot of things together. And were ... fond of one another. Yesterday – the expression in Johnny’s face. On the doorstep. When Emma was crawling towards him. Grasping his trouser legs. I’ve never seen anything ... worse.

 

Christine was not finished. -Do you suggest that it’s possible to keep on being in love for so many years – from a distance and close by at the same time – without anything more happening? – in one way or another?

 

-Yes, I believe so. His voice was calm and clear.

 

Celia sensed that she sat – unconsciously – watching his face. Intrigued – and with some wonder.

 

There is something in here which ... I don’t know what it is ... it seems like starting to get loose ... if only ...

 

Philip brought her back to the others. -Wasn’t there a certain risk? --- I mean ... for somebody to find out?

 

-In the end someone did. Celia produced a cautious smile. -And as we have seen – things got bad. But in the beginning? Then it would probably not have mattered too much. She could’ve got away with it – as a joke, like Christine proposed. And it would take a bit. Even at the time she came here a rather decent time had passed – and upon that we are not talking about a sports discipline followed closely by too many people.

 

-Over the years I guess it grew into being a part of her. And along the way Johnny as well became a part of her – and of her story. After that there was no way to back – it was too late. But no one asked. No one found out. Until ...

 

-In addition I’m sure there were pictures. At least one. For her to show. To Johnny in particular. Since that’s the way it is – mates you are celebrating a victory with, are allowed to hold the trophy for a moment – and take a photo with it.

 

Mai grasped the cake lifter from the plate obliquely in front of her. -Now I’m planning to have another slice of chocolate cake. And I’m not going to say that it isn’t good for me. There are for you as well.

 

The soft laughters around the table proved that Mai succeeded in making them all relax.

 

-I’m certain that Emma will tell us about the years she’s had here. And about the lie – which was maybe trivial at first, but then became part of the image on which she built her life here in this club. In fact, I think she will want to tell her story.

 

-But now I would like to hear the final chapter from you, Celia.  Bring us along on your journey – tell us how you came to your conclusions. Since I guess it wasn’t just Beatrice and the full moon.

 

Celia noticed that Mai for a tiny moment cast her eyes on Simon – a little uncertain as to whether there was a supressed smile in the left corner of her mouth.

 

She is difficult to read. But I like her.

Chapter 57

Celia’s journey

 

For a second time Mai had handed her the initiative, and once again she watched the faces around the tables. In a way there was even more anticipation now.

 

This will be more difficult. What made me figure out who did it? --- and how it is all connected? Do I really know that? – at best it will be bits and pieces.

 

-As I told you, I have dreams.

 

Probably not the start remark they were expecting from me.

 

-But before going on – getting at who it was and how it was done – those are of course two parts of the same story. So we have already talked about much of what you call «my journey».

 

She cast a fast look at Mai.

 

-Who did you think was behind the killings? Christine’s question was direct as she intervened. -Because we all had our thoughts. And we spoke with each other.

 

Celia tried to put her mind straight.

 

I have to do this the right way.

 

-I must admit I couldn’t avoid having thoughts about Mariam’s dad. The father of Michael as well. Even though ... Well, I’ll get back to that.

 

-Laura. She behaved strangely. I challenged her with questions. At least twice. The last time it all ended down here in the locker room – with Sonia and ... yes, as Philip told you some minutes ago.

 

My God – less than two days and nights have passed since then. It feels much longer. Has so much really happened in just a couple of days?

 

-There might be ... several others. But after the second ... killing ... It was still a little difficult for her to pronounce the word. -... I knew that it had to be someone related to the club here – no one from outside. At least as far as what was done to Peter. And I’d become convinced that the two ... were connected.

 

-And then for a while I ... She tried – and managed – to catch the eyes of Mai. -was scared by the thought that it might be ... one of us – I mean ... one of my own age –  from my football team – or a school mate. Sonia tried to reassure me on this point - when we were sitting here – and I was glad she did. Even though I still was unable to put the idea completely off.

 

I have to tell them about my head. Whatever opinion they might get.

 

-I think I’m … put together in such a way that things I see or hear – happening around me – it may be quite casual or ordinary ...

 

-I sense in a way that something is being placed into my head – I think of them as rooms in my brain. I know that what has been stored in there is important, but I’m not capable of getting through – the paths to these rooms are blocked.

 

Mai was still following the eyes of Celia – the contact was broken – then restored. The stream of thought of the eighteen-year-old fascinated her – in such a way that she did not notice what was otherwise taking place around her – including the youngsters now walking past right outside the window, on their way home from school.

 

Yes, I guess a talk with our police psychologist might be interesting. Maybe you could give her one or two useful hints.

 

-In the evening – after the thing with Laura – I was not in my best shape. So much had occured – I had got aware of ... relations ... which might not have come as a big surprise, but which still ... Sonia called me as well - by the way.

 

-Maybe all of this triggered me – made something start happening inside me. Because I stayed up pondering – sitting in my sofa corner - until early night. And that was as well the night when I saw Kelvin - when he entered our living room two times in a row. As I told you about earlier.

 

-And then – I guess I’d been asleep for two or three hours – I suddenly woke up from my dream. I even think I screamed, since Kelvin heard me.

 

She could not let be passing a tiny smile to Christine. -You know – he doesn’t exactly work eight-to-four.

 

-The odd thing about dreams is that they are incoherent – but even so there is coherence. And you forget most of the contents terribly fast – they’re like images rapidly passing through in your brain.

 

-I like doing long raids with the ball – when I play. And I did just that out here on the turf – in my dream. I dribbled past one opponent after the other. They were coming at me – almost all of them. They were carrying objects, they shouted at me, they pointed with their fingers. I don’t think any one of them was able to take the ball away from me. But all of it had to do with ... this case.

 

-I woke abruptly – as you often do from special dreams. I guess I understood that the dream was important, since I ran down the stairs and into our living room  - and started to write down everything I remembered. Much of it was probably already gone, but I did scribble down quite a lot. And the curious thing is – I do in fact still recall some of what happened ... on the pitch turf.

 

I hope they don’t think I’m about to lose my senses. Mai - I am afraid this will not do in a testimony.

 

But there were no objections – they all sat watching her intensely.

 

-I think my dream disclosed - and connected - what was hidden in the rooms in my head – which I knew was there, but was unable to grasp – in a way my dream succeeded in clearing the paths inside my brain.

 

-So I kept sitting – in my favourite corner on the sofa – remembering ... and writing. Pondering. I walked around in the living room. Kelvin popped in once more as well. And then I suddenly knew. Or at least thought I knew. That was when I ... called Simon.

 

-That was about half past two, as I’ve understood?

 

It was not really a question, and this time Celia had no doubts about the lurking smile on Mai’s face.

 

-I went past Mariam’s dad – in my dream – he was carrying a photo ... and a trophy. That was no coincidence. Since he told me – I mean – for real. Linda had called him that evening – from the overnight cup. They talked about the house. And money. But some of what she said was out of context, the way he heard it – she mentioned among other things photographs ... and trophies.

 

-I asked him where the cup took place – he gave me the name of the small town, but the club had another name – which he was not able to remember at the time.

 

The wrinkles had reappeared above the brows of Mai. She was uncertain whether she ought to ask. But she chose to do so.

 

-When did you talk to the father of Mariam?

 

Celia had already decided to come clear on this point – if the question should be asked.

 

-I paid him a visit – in his apartment. I called and made an appointment in advance.

 

This time the expression on Mai’s face was impossible to interprete. But there was no smile.

 

-So you walked – on your own – into the apartment of a man in his prime being under suspicion of two killings?

 

-Yes. The word came softly, but clearly, and Celia made no attempt at looking in a different direction. -I had to speak with him. You see, I never really thought it was him. Or – I rather wanted it not to be him. I’ve always looked upon him as ... kind. And Mariam ...

 

She made a short break. -But I guess I’m not a good judge of character.

 

The way I’ve come to know you, your ability to read and understand other people is excellent. But nonetheless – even though you trust someone, it’s a good rule to ensure having some backup. So you do deserve a stern reproach. But in time you will learn.

 

I won’t share these thoughts with her right now. She does not deserve that. There’ll be a time for it – later. But one fact I can tell her.

 

-He got the message from us today that he is cleared of all suspicion. And it has been agreed that he’s taking Mariam home from school this afternoon.

 

Celia sensed the tears intending to press forward, but she forced herself to contain them. They all noticed, but they gave her the time she needed, so there was no remarks from any of them. She read the silence as a sign for her to continue.

 

-Johnny – he was by the way as well in my dream – told me about Emma when I was sitting in the cafeteria before I was to referee at our cup. I was dreading a little – he soothed and encouraged me – I think he is fantastic at doing exactly that. And he gave me praise for doing what I did. Emma entered the cafeteria together with Laura. In a way he compared me with her – she was a big star, but all the same she chose to use her abilities here with us. So you see – Johnny was still telling Emma’s story. He even told me the name of the place where she came from.

 

She turned to Simon. -You know ... Shakir ... at the party ... he told me that Johnny had called him «the king of gymnastics» when he trained them as small kids. It struck me that night – before I rang you – that it might be some kind of reflection of «the queen of gymnastics» – the one he knew so well.

 

-I’d come to a point at which I was positive that the overnight cup was the reason behind all that had happened. Peter told me they talked together – and he got to know things he wasn’t meant to know. But my head was swinging between the two fathers – yes, I was even touching the idea that Linda and Peter might have had ... a relationship ... up there, and that Michael’s father killed them because of that.

 

A sudden feeling of her head tiring came upon Celia, and she stretched out her right hand to make herself another glass of soda from one of the bottles Philip had placed on the table before they sat down. Simon beat her to it, grasping the bottle and doing the job for her. She cast a quick glance at him, but could not quite bring herself to say thanks.

 

-I guess it was circling in my head for a while before I made the connection – Linda’s talk of trophies and photos and Johnny’s story about Emma and her wins and trophies – what if it was a photo of Emma with a trophy cup? So I checked Google Maps.

 

-I may be going a little back and forth – sorry about that. Because Peter took part in my dream as well – I saw his well-known face. But suddenly his face was no longer there – I could only see clotted blood and empty eyes. And it bumped into me – Peter is not the one I thought him to be. In a way that is both true and false. But maybe it not only goes for Peter? Since there should be no reason for Linda to harass Emma even if she happened to see an old picture of her holding a champions trophy cup.

 

-Google Maps.

 

Her mobile was still lying on the tabletop in front of her. She swiped, tapped and swiped once more – a map image of a small town and the closely surrounding areas.

 

-Look here – this is the town Mariam’s dad named for me. But in the lower left corner – here you can see a rather small area on the outskirts of the town – and the green spot is a sports ground. The club carries the same name as this community – and this was the name Johnny mentioned to me in the cafeteria before my first referee job.

 

Christine and Philip had walked over and were once again standing behind her.

 

-If this were to convey any meaning, the same observation had to apply to Emma. As to Peter. Emma is not the one we thought her to be. Which is also in a way both true and false. And as we have seen – Emma was not the one to celebrate a win in the photo.

 

-But the two names on the map – and Emma not being the one we thought her to be ... Those things came in fact after another image – actually two images – convinced me of the real motive for ... what happened to Linda and Peter. The family of ducks. In my dream there was a family of ducks – they were swimming on the blue-grey artificial turf. And in the far corner of our living room there is a picture of mom, Kelvin and me by the small lake when we were kids – Kelvin is busy throwing breadcrumps to some ducks in the water.

 

Christine was about to sit down again – wondering somewhat as to which direction Celia was heading.

 

-A motive so simple, but so extremely strong. And I can thank this guy here ... for a brilliant observation – Simon gave me the motive.

 

She turned once more towards Simon, and suddenly – without her really being conscious about it – her face burst into a huge smile. It took him so by surprise that he jerked abruptly in his chair and did not quite know where to fix his eyes.

 

-You understand – a couple of weeks ago – well, I think it was the day before Sonia, you and I were speaking together here in the cafeteria, Mai – I was sitting ... thinking and contemplating ... on an old bench up by the small lake. Simon spotted me and came over. He sat down by the waterfront, and a family of ducks came swimming – duck mom, duck dad and two ducklings. You were reflecting, Simon – like a philosopher. You asked me to look at them. You said to me that they were just fine. That all of this is theirs – this is what they’ve got – and that they live their lives to preserve it.

 

-The other night – I recall sinking down onto the sofa and sitting like that for a while – a strange feeling streaming through my body. All of a sudden I knew how it was all related – the motive, who did it and how it was done. I knew that Emma had to do away with them because they threatened to take away from her what she was living her life to preserve.

 

There were several seconds of stillness. It was broken by Celia herself tilting her head backwards and looking up into empty air – seemingly not focusing her eyes on anything in particular.

 

-We tend to say that people want change – that they keep dreaming of something better. I guess it goes for some – and at times for most of us. But I think that it’s often the other way round  - more than anything else we want to preserve what we’ve got and are scared stiff to lose it.

 

She burst out laughing. -Now I’m becoming the philosopher.

 

-But yes, Mai – you are right. I checked my phone clock – it was half past two when I rang. And Simon, I immensely appreciate you answering my call.

 

Christine was on her feet once more. She walked slowly over to the window at the far side of Simon, sat carefully down on the sill and looked at Celia with a tiny and wondering smile.

 

-This is the most extraordinary story I have ever been told. And I doubt it has occured too many times that a bunch of fairly intelligent men and women – as I assume we are – have had the privilege of listening to an eighteen-year-old telling a true tale in a way like this.

 

Some minutes later they were gathered outside the cafeteria door – all of them except Philip, who took the job of tidying up inside.

 

Mai turned towards Simon and stretched out her hand. He responded tentatively.

 

-Thanks for all your contributions, Simon – it’s far beyond what anyone could expect.

 

She withdrew a couple of steps and looked at Celia who was standing so close to the worn wooden table as to touch it. Then she abruptly addressed Simon once more. -And you have to promise me – keep on looking after her!

 

She walked towards Celia, but halted a few yards from the young girl.

 

-And as for you there is no use giving any advice.

 

For a moment she was afraid that her voice sounded a bit too hard.

 

But her next move took Celia by surprise. She went on up to the eighteen-year-old, put both arms around her neck and produced a massive hug.  

 

When she released her grip – after several seconds – she kept standing resting one hand on each of Celia’s shoulders and looking into her eyes.

 

-It’s just that, Celia – I don’t know what to say. But – you’re in your final grade at high school, am I right? The application deadline for the police university college is on March 1st – if you need a reference, you know who you should call.

 

Then she turned around and walked towards the stairs – to meet with the small blue el-car waiting for her down at the club square.

 

Celia sat down on the wooden bench at the age-worn table, and almost like being invited Simon went over to sit right across her.

 

Christine approached them somewhat – it was her turn now.

 

-I must be off – I’m taking the walkway down from the square.

 

Then she suddenly changed the subject.

 

-You know, Celia – I’m going out with Kelvin once more. This Friday. Though we don’t quite know where.

 

The leftover food. No – I’m shutting that book for good.

 

-Thinking about it – couldn’t you come with us?

 

It was an idea conceived on the spur of the moment. She nodded towards Simon. -And you can bring him.

 

Before addressing directly the young boy at the other side of the table. -You’ve become her boyfriend now?

 

-No, no … Simon shook his head several times. Then he peered quickly over at Celia before focusing his eyes on the ground.

 

She sensed a feeling inside her which she was not quite able to spell out – a mixture of ... annoyance? ... and something else.

 

Why was he objecting so quickly? And so strongly? He might at least have smiled a bit, and ...

 

-Well then. Christine did not give way. -It doesn’t matter. If so you can be a couple for the evening.

 

-Because you know, Simon … She let a teasing look glide from one to the other of them. -There’s a rumour around … she’s got a habit of calling you in the middle of the night.

 

Christine started to walk in the direction of the club stairs. About halfway she turned for a second displayng a joyful smile.

 

-That’s settled then? The two young heroes of our city pretending to be lovers and two old exes who haven’t a clue what to do with one another – it’s going to be a splendid double date!

 

She waved at them when she was on her way down the stairs.

 

Celia and Simon was left by themselves at the wooden table between the cafeteria and the half frozen pitch turf.

Chapter 58

Up quarks

 

Two youngsters somewhere between eighteen and nineteen were on their way up the path from the club pitch in the direction of the small lake. It was a fairly broad path – close-to a walkway – so they were strolling side by side. The frosty weather of the latter days had created some icy patches on the ground, but the young ones seemed to take heed of neither the slipperiness nor anything else around them – they walked quietly and fully relaxed, as if the world around them should not exist.

 

It is over. I can feel it in my body. In my head. As if it has all been emptied. My brain has been brought to rest – there are no blocked paths any longer.

 

But it is nice walking here next to Simon. And maybe I still have a couple of things to talk to him about.

 

The path flattened somewhat as it passed the big-stone, and without having any conscious purpose of doing so, Celia turned to look across the club ground below them. The pitch. The club building with the cafeteria, the office entrance and the youth teams’ locker rooms. The club stairs. Her eyes continued towards her right – to the area where the sales booth was erected during the cup – some of the wooden boxes used for the stand were still not tidied away.

 

The bag. The bottle and the cup.

 

-There’s one matter we need to put straight.

 

She looked at Simon who had stopped on the far side of the big-stone. He was close to reading her mind.

 

-We are both sure it was Samir, right?

 

-At first I was positive. But at the school prom – you know I ... was speaking with Shakir.

 

She made a break before going on. -I ... danced with ... Shakir.

 

Another stoppage. A few seconds. But Simon did not look in her direction – he was standing with his face turned towards the pitch.

 

-After that I was in doubt, since as I understood Shakir he had as well put his training bag by the booth. While he was refereeing. So I thought it might be him. But then I guess I’ve come back to Samir as the most likely one after all – probably Shakir ought to have picked up his gear before ... Linda.

 

Celia attempted a tiny smile. -So the truth is I’m not as sure as I pretended to be talking to Mai a few minutes ago. I thought maybe you could try to find out. But Samir appeared to be a little uneasy when he came to me by the school fountain – as if things were a bit ... troublesome.

 

-I think you’re right – I’ve noticed it myself. He turned towards her and replicated her short smile. -Okay – I take the challenge. I’ll talk to Samir first. And if it’s him – as I reckon as well – I think it’ll be very good for him to come clean about it.

 

He took two or three steps onto the path again and started to walk on upwards. But he halted when he realized that Celia was not following – she remained standing still by the stone staring down towards the club house – at the worn wooden table with the rounded benches.

 

I watched them when I was walking up the hill right here. After my training. Johnny came out first. Then Emma. They sat down on opposite sides of the table. The interaction between them. Their relationship. It must have been more than a week before the cup. Everything was as it should be. As it used to be. Between them.

 

Or – had Linda already been talking to her by then?

 

She turned and approached Simon. -I saw them. Down there by the table. Emma and Johnny.

 

-I suddenly got a feeling of – well, when she thought that she would lose everything ... and him – I ... feel sorry for her.

 

She came up next to Simon. He gave her an oblique look, tilting his head somewhat. -If it were not for ... the kitten. What she did to it – it seems almost like ...

 

-… wickedness? She pronounced the word for him.

 

They came past the trees at the top of the hill and could see the lake right in front of them.

 

-Should we take a stroll to the bench? Simon took the initiative.

 

She nodded, and they walked quietly next to one another along the edge of the lake to the small curve – and the old bench located two or three yards from the waterfront for as long as anyone could remember. Celia sat down – even though she felt the cold from the bench penetrating her clothes. 

 

There was still a lot of rime ice on the trees. One twig was so close to the bench that she could grasp it and feel the ice crystals. But since neither the sun nor the moon was present in the sky, they had no light to reflect on this early afternoon.

 

I was sitting right here. When Peter was ... gone. When Mariam’s dad had been arrested. When Simon came.

 

He is doing exactly the same thing now. As that day.

 

She looked at Simon who was bending down to a squat close to the edge of the lake. The surface had turned into ice for a few yards out, but at the point where the ice was giving way to open water, four ducks were floating – moving slightly up and down in line with the tiny waves. They were lying close to each other, and they made no attempts at climbing onto the ice to come over to the new arrivals on shore.

 

They are doing fine. With one another.

 

-Do you think it’s the same … family?

 

-Oh yes. Simon’s face displayed a mix of grinning and subdued laughter as he responded. -I recognize them. Remember that I’m the one – to be the animal philosopher.

 

-It was a fantastic observation, Simon. You gave me the motive ... I needed.

 

-I think you exaggerate my importance, Celia. But maybe ... as we go on ... I can handle the animals, while you take care of people.

 

There was no irony in his voice. It was the usual ... honest ... Simon voice. It sounded almost like ...

There is something in here.

 

But it passed away.

 

Some thirty or forty yards off a man and a smallish girl came up the path from the pitch. Celia spotted them as they entered the walkway along the lake. She lifted her right hand waving. The man halted for a brief moment – and she received a wave back from both of them – she imagined as well hearing a «hi» being cried. Then they turned the other way to move on, and she kept viewing them for a while as their backs grew slowly smaller.

 

He has picked her up at school. He is holding her hand. In two or three years she will not want him to do that any longer. But right now she needs it. And perhaps he does as well.

 

They will manage. He’s a good man. I’m still positive of that.

 

Celia turned once more to Simon who was still squatting by the icy waterfront.

 

I want to share my secret with him. Do I break a promise if I do so?

 

-You know, Simon – I think the police had a much stronger case against him than we have maybe assumed. You can hold on to a small ... confidence thing?

 

It was more of a statement than a question. Simon rose and smiled at her. -After my call to Sonia last night?

 

-And very well it was that you had the wit to do just that, Celia countered. -Otherwise we would both of us have been lying in the locker room with our sculls smashed.

 

-He was listed in a DNA file, she continued. -And even if you may possibly be registered in such a file voluntarily, I don’t think many people do that. So I guess there has been some wrong-doing – one way or another. But I’m convinced that the listing was not the consequence of anything ... really wicked ... on his part.

 

-And he told me something he never mentioned to the police. When I paid him a visit in his apartment.  The biological traces did not come from any handling of equipment for Mariam’s team. He came to the women’s locker room that afternoon – when Peter was killed. He asked me not to inquire of him what he was doing there, so I let it rest.

 

Simon sat down next to her on the bench. -It’s a great quality to have, he said, -knowing when to trust someone and when you are to be sceptical.

 

-And it resolved ... perhaps ... a tiny – should I call it an oddity? --- which I told Mai and which I don’t think she was quite able to find an explanation for. When I saw ...

 

She started over. -The blood on Peter’s face was clotted. But there was a small patch which seemed ... fresher.

 

-I imagine that Mariam’s dad found Peter dead, and that he touched his face. And that this happened not long before ... the others ... found him. He probably panicked and hurried off.

 

-What business did he have in the women’s locker room?

 

-Your guess is as good as mine – but we know that a young lady came there shortly afterwards – the woman everyone thinks discovered Peter – and who strictly speaking had nothing to do in the locker room that day.

 

Simon shook his head softly while at the same time displaying a little smile in one corner of his mouth. -In that case it’s important to believe that there doesn’t need to be anything wrong about it.

 

She nodded. -I’m having the same thought.

 

-That afternoon, Simon – after you’d left. I suddenly realized I was sitting here ... weeping.

 

It was an admission uttered completely on impulse. The last thing she had meant to tell him. He responded by half getting up from the bench.

 

-Because of me? What I said to you? And that I left so fast – and never even said «bye».

 

She noted the slight change in his voice – conscience? Unease?

 

So he does remember.

 

She shook her head. -No, no – don’t take that upon yourself. If I’m to be honest, I don’t know why. Didn’t know at the time either.

 

-But now I’m about to get a little cold.

 

They started to walk back along the edge of the small lake.

 

Ten minutes later they entered a crossing at which a narrow road took off for the churchyard.  Celia stopped abrubtly.

 

-I didn’t plan to, but I – with everything that has happened ... I feel like going down to the cemetery for a few minutes. But we’ll see each in the morning – or speak on the phone.

 

-I’m waiting for you here. He looked straight at her.

 

-You can’t do that, Simon – you’ll be standing here getting cold – getting ill, and ...

 

But he was persistent.

 

-Can’t you come along?

 

It was a bit special – she had never been to the churchyard with someone but Kelvin and mom – and most often she was on her own.

 

-Do you mean it? – wouldn’t it be better for you to be there ... alone?

 

-I’d like you to come with me. Unless you have to go straight home.

 

She pulled his sleeve, though releasing the grip fast. Shortly afterwards he was walking down the small hill some yard behind her.

 

The road levelled right before the gate leading into the churchyard. The half frozen gravel gave away a crackling sound as Celia entered the gate and started to head towards the standalone church steeple. A few yards from the foot of the tower she turned left down a sloping path – then she halted in front of a medium-sized headstone with a fresher look compared to the other stones nearby.

 

-Come close. She turned her head towards Simon who was still a small yard behind her. He took two steps forward, making them stand side-by-side as near the gravestone as was possible.

 

Simon viewed the white and black stone with rounded corners and a decoration carved into it at the top. Contrasts, yet at the same time peaceful. He read the name. He saw the dates. He took in the memorial poem which was engraved. And despite being several degrees below zero, there were nonetheless fresh flowers raised along the foot.

 

-He used to train us at times, he said quietly. -When we were kids, nine ... ten years old. When our head coach couldn’t make it.

 

Celia was on the verge of saying that Shakir told her a similar story at the school prom – about his own team – but swiftly held back.

 

I’m done mentioning Shakir.

 

She peered tentatively at his face. It was halfway turned towards her. But she was not able to read it.

 

I sense some kind of ... motion. Something stirring. Growing. I don’t know what it is. And I don’t know what it’ll be like. What I’m going to do about it. If I can handle it.

 

-Maybe it’s a little strange. She made an attempt at catching his eyes – there was contact for the fraction of a second, before his glance shifted away.

 

-But that’s the way I am. And I don’t believe I want to quit doing it. I stand here – or squat down – and talk to him – with him, I think.

 

Now I guess he thinks I’m half out of my mind. No, on second thought – I’m positive he is not going to believe that.

 

Then he suddenly took her by surprise.

 

Simon bent down. He placed his right knee on the frozen blades of grass in front of the headstone while keeping his left foot in a squat position. He looked straight at the engraved name.

 

-Celia dad. I don’t know if you remember me – actually yes, I’m certain that you do. You trained me several times. I was a small kid.

 

Celia stared down at him - intrigued by his calm face. The way she stood she could not see its expression properly, but she sensed the suggestion of a tiny smile. She realized being absolutely still – unable to move.

 

I’m about to lose control of my body.

 

-There was a training. I think I may have had ... a bad day. I was terrible. Behaving awfully. Towards the other boys. And you. Things were going to pieces ... for me – inside me.

 

He was silent for a few seconds. A man and a woman were passing on the gravelled path a few yards off – they looked with a certain curiousness at the two youngsters in front of the gravestone. But neither Celia nor Simon noticed the couple walking past them.

 

-You could have yelled at me. I’d deserved nothing less. You might have put me on the side line. Even sent me home.

 

-But you didn’t. After the training you sat down with me – a little apart from the others. At first I dared not look at you. Not a single harsh word. You asked me softly – what was wrong – if there was something wrong. If there was anything you could do. You took your time. You told me I was a decent boy. That I was doing well. That I was good. And that anyone can have a bad day. You asked me to think about things I was looking forward to – things I was hoping for – or dreaming of.

 

-Yes – you said even more. And you let me speak. Say what I needed to tell.

 

-It’s like it happened - today. I will never forget it. I remember walking home – despite all the troubling things – I felt so glad inside me.

 

-That day did something to me. Which has been there ever since. It’s one of my best memories – from the football and the club.

 

Even though she was watching him from above, there was no way to be mistaken – the slight arc in the corner of his mouth all of a sudden burst into a smile covering his face.

 

-So Celia dad – I’m not the least surprised that you’ve got such a wonderful daughter – the best and most beautiful girl I’m going to know ... ever.

 

He was completely still for a moment – then he lifted his right knee from the ground and rose carefully.

 

It started somewhere deep inside her. She didn’t quite know where. But that the seed – from which it all originated – had been sown some time ago. Presently it was all streaming through her – a bit softly at first – then increasingly forceful. Wave after wave. Hitting her. Only that – the waves did not come from outside – they were created by an instant storm in herself.

 

She sensed it in her head. In her hands. In her feet. In her whole body. What the waves brought along, was about to fill all space anywhere within her.

 

I’m not able to stop what is coming. But I don’t want to stop it either – even if I could.

 

I’m trembling. But my arms – and hands – are motionless.

 

She turned towards him and took the one small step forward.

 

And looked into two dazzling and warm nut-brown eyes.

 

Where on earth did he get those eyes? – I’ve never seen those before.

 

Holding back was no option any longer, so she close-to threw her arms around his neck pressing hands and fingers against his shoulders. For a brief moment a thought flashed through her – what if he’s not responding to me? But the idea was flushed away as she felt his arms – and hands - starting to gently stroke the back of her winter jacket - up and down – left and right. She pressed her right cheek tightly to the side of his neck. And sensed another wave as she perceived his left hand – that was the one he injured last night? – stroking her head and hair softly. 

 

I want to kiss him. No – not now. I’m not afraid he won’t counter. But I’ll keep it for next time.

 

I don’t know what this is. Or what they call it. But I couldn’t care less. I want it. And now I have it.

 

She had no idea for how long they stood still embracing one another. But having as tenderly as she could released her grip, she turned towards the headstone – and this time she was the one to bend to a squat.

 

-Daddy – thanks for meeting with Simon. Thanks for receiving ... my friend.

 

She looked at the name. And the date. Barely more than one year ago. And she noticed the gravestone slightly reflecting the image of Simon and herself.

 

-Dad – I’m fine now. I want you to know that I’m really fine. And we will come back – many times – to speak with you.

 

Simon stretched his hand out to her as she started to rise. She grasped it, and he pulled her carefully up. Then they began to walk slowly up the gravelled path, past the foot of the church tower and towards the gate.

 

Celia suddently perceived her right cheek being wet. She picked her face by her free hand. No doubt – there were tears on her cheek.

 

Oh my God – am I to go on crying every time I’m with him?

 

She moved her forefinger up to her eye. And got surprised at finding it – at least fairly – dry. The other one then? No – nothing there either.

 

She peered at Simon, and he met her glance immediately. The nut-brown eyes. And the smile. And there was no doubt. Small streams of tears occupied both his cheeks. And he made no attempt at wiping them off.

 

It started from the same place – she believed. Yet another wave. Even stronger. Bursting through her. Filling each and every minute part of her body.

 

I never thought I would feel so good about seeing a boy weeping.

 

Thoughts and feelings. All that’s inside me. They are nothing but energy waves and elementary particles. Spinning and combining. Up quarks and down quarks.

 

But right now they are all up quarks.

 

Two youngsters somewhere between eighteen and nineteen were on their way up the narrow road from the church gate to the crossing where they were to turn homebound. They lived not too far apart, so it was natural to keep each other company. But one detail was new this afternoon -  they were holding hands. And they were about to spend a long time walking home.

Chapter 59

Bus line eighteen

 

The road beyond the lower side of the churchyard was by no means a main street. Still there was a bus running here, and the bus stop was located right outside the fence close to the gravestones farthest away from the church steeple.

 

A woman was coming onto the small platform with its roof shelter meant to provide some protection against rain and wind. There was no one else waiting there, so she wondered whether she was just late for a departure. But a quick look at the digital display right below the small roof told her that the next one would be here within a few minutes.

 

«The Church Crossing». The name of the bus stop and the time for the upcoming departure took turns rolling across the display.

 

She sensed the fatigue in her body. Heaviness in her head. And there was a strange blend of sadness and – contentment? – inside her.

 

But above all I feel relief. It’s over now. We can move on.

 

The two or three most recent days had been very special. Packed with events. First Laura. Then the locker room last night. Following the call from Simon.

 

I will never in my lifetime forget the sight of Emma – with her hammer raised above Simon’s head. And a few moments later – when she was crawling towards Johnny – their faces ...

 

I’m glad I went to visit him today – like I promised yesterday evening.

 

They had been sitting in the fairly small, but almost overly tidy living room of his. Just down the street from here. When she left, she was surprised seeing the amount of time elapsed since she arrived.

 

She did not go directly from the police station to Johnny’s apartment. There were a couple of errands to be made in between. And she had to call Armin.

 

He will be home today by the time Sara is coming from school. So the time I’m spending does not matter too much.  In any case – Sara has grown good at making it on her own.

 

Mai called while she was on her way to the apartment. After the statements by Simon and Celia. And briefly retold Celia’s short description of the motive. -She lived a lie. She was never the queen of gymnastics.

 

-Do you think I ought to tell him?

 

-As for that your judgment is just as good as mine. I’ll be calling you later – we still have a great deal to discuss.

 

So when the question was asked, she made a decision.

 

-Why? The eyes looking at her were filled with bewilderment.

 

-I know far too little about it, Johnny. But they think that it has to do with her gymnastics story. You see – she was never – a champion.

 

The confusion displayed in his eyes transformed into complete disbelief. -So it was a story she invented? In order to ...

 

-But ... oh my god, Sonia! He got up from the sofa as he yelled his words into the empty air of his flat. -It wouldn’t have mattered – not in any way you can think of! Emma was Emma whatever ... and ...

 

He almost fell down onto the sofa cushion again – but his voice was all of a sudden calm.

 

-I’ve been very fond of her, Sonia. I am fond of her.

 

-I know, she replied quietly and caught the tormented look of his eyes.

 

Upon which he had began talking about Emma. About their encounter when he first met her. When she came here. About the very first years. He retold the gymnastics tale. He even went over to one of the wall unit drawers and picked up an old somewhat faded photograph. Showing Emma with the trophy.

 

And he talked about all the years which had passed since that beginning. What they were doing together in the club. Being here together.

 

Sonia tried to stop him when he finally came to the previous night – and the shock when standing on the doorstep of the locker room. -You need not talk about that just now, Johnny. Let it rest for a while.

 

-We will come to know it all, she’d said. -And you will be able to visit her. Maybe not during these first days. But later – and then ... let her tell you her story in her own way.

 

-Promise me that you’ll get yourself back to the club and the club house.  

 

That was when she was about to leave. -As early as possible. We need you there – all of us.

 

She felt like giving him a hug when she was standing on the doorstep to say «goodbye», but she held back.

 

I am glad I made the visit. I think he will be all right. But he will need time.

 

If they had entered a relationship? Many years ago – for real. Like an ordinary couple. Would she have been honest with him then? And left the secret as a story just between the two of them – never to be mentioned any more?

 

If so, would Linda and Peter be still alive?

 

I’m not sure. And I don’t want to speculate.

 

It started getting somewhat chilly standing on the small platform without moving. So she began strolling quietly back and forth – she was still the only person waiting for the bus to arrive.

 

Once more she sensed the tiredness.

 

I seem to be totally exhausted. It’ll be good getting home – to Sara and Armin.

 

The churchyard stretched fully down to the street with the bus stop. It was encircled by tall trees, and there were as well many trees inside the cemetery between rows of gravestones – from a distance it was almost like watching a fairly large grove in the woods. Therefore she could hardly see the people being inside the area, and the gravelled path between the gate and the church with its standalone steeple was completely hidden behind the trees.

 

But she enjoyed a free sight towards the walkway leading from the churchyard exit and further up the slope. And she spotted the two youngsters as they were coming out between the gate posts. The distance was barely more than about fifty yards, so she recognized them immediately.

 

She was about to wave and shout «hello». Then she all of a sudden noticed their hands.

 

They are holding hands. I can’t be wrong. I can see it – clearly.

 

In the fraction of a moment  it was all swept away – the sadness, the fatigue and the exhaustion. She only just managed to hold her tears back as pure and sheer joy forced all other thoughts and feelings out of her mind and body.

 

She stifled her «hello». And kept her hands quiet.

 

I will leave them in peace right now. This afternoon their time belongs exclusively to one another.

 

They are the two finest youths we’ve got in our club. With them we shall build from here.

 

Several of the passengers travelling on line eighteen were somewhat wondering why the woman just entering the bus – and who might possibly be in her mid thirties – was displaying a huge joyful smile on her face, being all on her own as she was.