To the Back of Beyond(9)
He must have sensed Astrid’s hesitation when he held open the door of the patrol car for her. If you prefer, we could take the other car, it is less obtrusive. Astrid told him the address and gave him directions during the drive, although he seemed to have no trouble finding the house. He parked on the roadside and got out. It’s nice here, he said, as Astrid led him down the garden path to the door. I haven’t uploaded the vacation pictures yet, she said, and walked into the lounge. The policeman stopped in the corridor and asked if it was all right if he took a look around. Shall I take my shoes off? No, said Astrid. She couldn’t imagine a policeman in stockinged feet getting results.
She took the card out of her camera and transferred the pictures onto the family laptop, which was mostly what the children played games on. She looked over the pictures, but most of them were of Ella and Konrad. In one shot you could see Thomas and Konrad from behind, racing into the sea, another was of a massive paella pan that Astrid had taken in a restaurant, and you could see the bottom half of Thomas’s face, with a rather strange half smile. Then she went through the pictures of the skiing holidays, Christmas, and last year’s summer vacation, but there was not one proper shot of Thomas. Perhaps he had deliberately avoided being photographed and leaving traces in their shared life, evidence that could be used against him later on.
At long last she found a photograph from a Sunday walk that Konrad or Ella must have taken. It wasn’t absolutely in focus, but Thomas looked very lifelike and alive in it. He was smiling, looking as though he had just said something and was waiting for a reply. She printed the picture on the little photo printer that Thomas had given her for Christmas, after she had complained about the way all the pictures might as well be locked up in the computer because no one ever looked at them.
Hearing the policeman walking down the stairs, she went out into the corridor. Is this the way down to the basement, he asked, pointing to the basement door. Don’t bother, he said, as Astrid made a move to accompany him downstairs, and it suddenly dawned on her what he was doing. He didn’t really believe that Thomas was hiding anywhere but that he might have committed suicide, maybe hanged himself in the basement or the attic. She shuddered at the idea, and even though she felt quite sure that Thomas would never harm himself, she stood there with pounding heart until the policeman came back up and shook his head in apparent relief. Nope. Nothing.
He wouldn’t have a cup of coffee, just a glass of water, which he left untouched. He examined the photograph. I’d really like it if you could send me this as an attachment, he said, and gave her an e-mail address. Will it appear in the newspaper? Astrid asked. She felt ashamed of the question, but it was one she had to ask. No, replied the policeman, we’ll just put it in our inquiries file. Anytime he produces his passport, either at a frontier or in the course of a traffic control, my colleagues will draw his attention to the fact that he’s being sought. Then, if we get his consent, we’ll be able to tell you his whereabouts. Is that it then? asked Astrid. An adult has the right to disappear, said the policeman. If there was a suggestion of criminality or self-harm, then we could track him with a dog. But after thirty-six hours have elapsed that’s not a straightforward matter. What about the children, asked Astrid, what do I tell them? As I say, most missing persons tend to surface after a few days, he said, and got up. And with that he drank his water too, all in one gulp. Ruf, he said, at your service, and gave Astrid his card, after they had shaken hands and she muttered something. You’re welcome to call anytime. Will I get put through to you directly? she asked. Sure, if I’m on duty. He took the card and wrote his mobile number on the back. There. In case of emergencies, he said.
After he left, Astrid wept for the first time. She sat at the table that still had the photograph of Thomas on it and cried, quietly to begin with, then loudly. Her body shook, it was a while before her sobbing eased and started coming at longer intervals. Once she had finally calmed herself, she went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She put the printed photograph of Thomas away in a drawer.
Thomas was sitting in the darkest corner of the bar. Gradually the place had filled up. Half a dozen men were standing or sitting around, talking with the girls or going off with them down the red corridor, to return half an hour later. There was a couple as well. The woman was of an almost severe beauty that looked out of place. She had black hair and a very pale complexion, and was wearing a denim skirt and a white floppy blouse. She was standing next to one of the men who wasn’t looking at her, and was in negotiations with one of the prostitutes. Thomas wasn’t able to interpret the expression on her face, she seemed at once alarmed and very attentive. When shortly afterward she followed the prostitute and the man out of the bar, she looked back over her shoulder, as though to form a detailed impression of the scene for later. Thomas lowered his head and shut his eyes. The music was loud and so monotonous that he was no longer aware of it. He went up to the bar for another beer, even though he no longer had the money to pay for it. And when any child could have told you that you shouldn’t use plastic if you were trying to disappear. Sooner or later, Astrid was bound to go to the police, and the police would ask her about money movements in their joint account. The thought gave him a sense of security. He pictured himself lying in bed next to Astrid, not touching, but he could feel her warmth and heaviness, as though the two of them were two stars, held by mutual gravity, orbiting round and round each other, without ever getting closer.