Free The Journey: Illustrated Edition (An Anna Kronberg Thriller) by Annelie Wendeberg

said dryly.  

— nine —

    P ale morning light brushed across Sherlock’s profile as he poked his head through a crack in the oilskin. ‘We will separate,’ he said. ‘Moran must not see either of us and I’m faster without the luggage. I’ll follow on his heels while you’ll send a telegram to my brother. Then, you follow. But you cannot be seen in Littlehampton.’
    ‘He’s here?’ I was suddenly wide awake.  
    He shook his head. ‘But we should pack and be ready.’
    I answered with a nod. We rolled up the blankets and collapsed the tent while hunching low enough as not to let our heads show above the grass. He folded the oilskin and stuffed it in his bag. ‘Can you carry all this?’
    ‘Of course I can,’ I answered.
    Then we waited. He flat on his stomach, the telescope in his hands, and me perched on my heels, surveying the surroundings while cutting slices of bread and ham.
    We ate and washed our breakfast down with the cold and bitter tea from the previous night. The wind let the grass tickle our faces, held the gulls high above us, and carried their cries and the salty air over our heads. The sun hid behind a thin sheet of clouds.
    ‘Are there any good memories from your time in the asylum?’ I asked.
    ‘Hum…’ he answered, one eye directed at the grave. A boyish smile lit up his features. ‘Ha!’ he said and I was all ears, expecting wild stories to be revealed.
    ‘Two ladies taught me a vast diversity of German swearwords.’ He turned to me, eyes shining. ‘Miss Glücklich and Miss Meier.’
    I almost spat out my breakfast. ‘Glücklich? You found a Miss Glücklich in an asylum? Do you know that glücklich is the German word for lucky or happy?’
    ‘Of course. I speak German fluently.’
    It took me a while to digest this information. ‘You never told me.’
    ‘On what occasion precisely should I have done so? There was none. Besides, your English is excellent. No need to help you with translations.’  
    A dry remark and completely logical if one had possessed all information beforehand. ‘Why were they there?’  
    ‘They were Sapphists.’
    ‘Oh,’ I said, feeling a pang. ‘What you people from the upper classes have to endure is… madness. I have no other word for it. Locking up two women because they love each other. Locking away a boy who, even if he had made a horrible mistake, was but a small child and hence, innocent. All these useless rules go against logic, compassion, and instinct.’  
    Feeling quite hot from anger, I rubbed my hair and let the wind cool my scalp and my thoughts. ‘If I had abided by those rules, I’d never have been a medical doctor. I would now sit at home, would have given birth to eight children, of which four would have died of undernourishment or disease. And I would have a husband who believes that beating his wife with a stick no thicker than his thumb is appropriate only because the law allows him to!’  
    I threw a handful of sand in the wind. It was blown straight back into my face. ‘Shit, I have sand between my teeth.’
    A low chuckle rolled up his throat. I pressed my knuckles in his ribs and said, ‘I was kissed by a woman once.’
    ‘Me too,’ he answered and turned back to observing the surroundings for any signs of Moran and Parker while I inspected the grass for any signs of six-legged fauna.
    ‘We drank all of the tea,’ I said somewhat involuntarily, feeling rather dry in my mouth. ‘The water is gone, too.’
    We didn’t speak for the ensuing two hours. Only the wind whispered in my ears, the gulls screamed, and the sea rushed up against the shore, again and again.
    ‘I changed my mind,’ he finally said. ‘You’ll leave now. A trap can take you from the ferry to Bognor. Take the train to London from there.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘I will not discuss it!’ he warned.
    ‘Good. Because I won’t, either. There is no reason for me to leave, other than you wishing to tuck me away safely.’
    His face showed