The Rabbit Girls(69)

The honesty of her statement holds true in the air and Miriam, coming out of her fog a little, feels better. ‘He is a very bad person,’ she repeats.

‘There are other people you can trust, Miriam, not just Axel. What about Eva?’

‘She doesn’t trust anyone, either,’ Miriam says petulantly. But in the back of her mind she thinks, Eva trusted me. Miriam continues, saying sharply to Hilda, ‘I trusted you and you called Axel!’

‘He called me,’ Hilda corrects. ‘I am so sorry, Miriam, really I am. I should leave now.’ Hilda turns to go.

Alone and clearer in thought, Miriam walks to the table and all the letters. She picks one up and places it back down. She paces the house, trying to find some cohesive thoughts. Remembering her harsh words with dismay. This will all end, and soon. No more Eva and soon no more letters, no more Dad. But there will always be Axel . . .

And with Eva’s words in her head and Frieda’s voice in her heart, she completes the paperwork from the solicitor.

She puts the radio on and checks the door multiple times before she trusts herself to sit and pick up a flaking, thin letter, almost brown at the edges, and the counterpart Eva has transcribed, attached.

Henryk

Twenty-five days later, I am told, I have returned to the light. I am held now as I held Hani. Hani is better and she tries to warm me, nothing can warm me now. I am very near death. I can feel it. I cannot write again, I have Hani and Eugenia at my side.

I love you.

Miriam reads back and over again. The previous letter was about rainbows. She looks through the pile, this one is numbered in sequence. She looks to the next for explanation.

A knock at the door makes her jump. She expects it to be Eva. She raises the letter in her hand as a greeting, but she sees two male police officers, in pristine blue uniform.

‘Frau Voight? Can we come in?’

She opens the door wider and drops the letter on the mantel. They smell of men, a smell that conjures the image of a mechanic’s workshop: of denim and wood. They are both holding their flat hats in their hands as they walk in, their heavy boots making imprints on the pale carpet.

‘This is Officer Snelling and I’m Officer Nikolls,’ says the older one. ‘Can we sit?’

Miriam motions to the dining room chairs as she perches on the edge of another one.

‘Our colleague, Officer Müller, advised us of the’ – he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a notebook, flicking through the pages, he removes a pen – ‘attack. The attack you sustained on the twenty-third of December.’

Miriam looks to her feet, clad in tights, her toes covered in silk.

‘We spoke to Herr Voight this morning. What with Christmas and you not answering your phone, we thought we would do this the old-fashioned way.’ He smiles showing large teeth. ‘Herr Voight has an entirely different version of events.’

‘Of course he does,’ she says.

‘Would you be able to go over what happened in your own words?’

‘Do I have to?’

‘We could get a female officer to attend, if you would feel more comfortable. That won’t be until tomorrow, though, I’m afraid.’

She shakes her head.

‘He frightened me.’ She swallows hard as the younger officer, who hasn’t uttered a word, takes out his notebook and makes notes with a scratch of his pencil. Officer Nikolls looks directly at her. She talks to her toes. ‘He twisted my arm and pushed me into the corner, behind a cabinet. He tore my clothes and forced me to the ground. You have the rest?’ Her face feels hot and she looks at Officer Snelling making notes. He nods without looking up.

‘Thank you, Miriam,’ Officer Nikolls says. ‘But I need to tell you that your husband states that at around seven p.m. he received a call from you inviting him to meet you at the hospital. Did you call him?’

She swallows a lump the size of a mountain and runs her gloved fingertips across her lips.

‘He has phone records to prove that a phone call from this address was answered by him and the conversation lasted the duration of three minutes.’

‘Yes, I did. I wanted to find out where my dad was.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He was meant to go to the hospice, but he didn’t get there and I called Axel because I thought he might know.’

‘Why would you think Axel would know? It says here you have been separated a month, was he in contact with your father?’

‘No. My father is dying. I assumed when my father was missing that Axel had been involved. He’s . . .’

‘Your father was missing?’

‘In the ambulance, they took him to hospital, not to the hospice, as he was unwell.’

‘And the professionals didn’t tell you. Did you try to contact them?’

‘Yes, and when I found out he was at the hospital I went straight there.’

‘Did you inform Axel you were going there?’

‘No.’

‘How did he know where to meet you?’

‘Hilda, Dad’s nurse, told him.’

‘He says you asked him to meet you?’

‘Did I?’ Miriam thinks, what did she say on the phone? She remembers holding it tight and the bite of his smile heard through the phone line. She shakes her head. ‘I wouldn’t have told him to meet me. I am sure.’