Free The Safety Net by Heinrich Böll

think of suicide: take some stuff or other, and it would all be over. What held her back was not the sinfulness, as such, in which she had been taught so emphatically to believe; but the thought of Kit, of Hubert, ofher parents and brothers, even of Katharina and the nephews, and last of all—least of all, she realized—it was the thought of Erwin Fischer, her husband. Leaving him was easy enough, and now she had made up her mind and hadn’t discussed it with anybody, had sent off Miss Blum and Kit with the milk pitcher as if nothing had changed. Everything, everything had changed. This time Kübler had gone along with them for protection; like all those before him, even Hubert, he would refuse to come into the house for a drink, he would stay in the courtyard, watchful, aloof, keeping a sharp eye on both entrances to the courtyard, while Rohner was indoors guarding her, keeping a watching eye on the weak points of the bungalow: the terrace, where she was now standing looking down on Blorr, and the rear garage door leading into the garden. What they all feared most was dusk, and now, in late fall, the milk had to be fetched earlier, and, although she hoped Miss Blum would take her time, she mustn’t stay out until dusk. That would lead to more trouble with Holzpuke; not that he became angry exactly, but he didn’t hide his annoyance when they failed to follow advice or instructions, and was always stressing—quite rightly, as she knew from Hubert—the nervous tension of his men, who would be held responsible if … After all, the affair of Pliefger’s birthday cake had been extremely serious, and as for Father—he was already dreaming of flying saucers descending on him and Käthe, now he was even scared of birds since that business with the duck and since old Kortschede had gone completely around the bend at the click of a lighter. And there had been that terrible business with Plotteti’s cigarette package.
    Her fear was for Hubert, not for herself; she would be able to handle Erwin and the whole clique, the scandal and the howls of the Zummerling gang; she looked forward to the baby that was kicking away in such lively fashion inside her, she was afraid only for its father: Hubert, with whom for the past six weeks she hadn’t been able to exchange a single word. Since he had been made a bodyguard at Father and Käthe’s, she sometimes caught a glimpse of him, saw his silhouettein the corridor upstairs in the manor, couldn’t speak to him, couldn’t write to him, couldn’t phone him. Because of Veronica, of course, she was being not only guarded but kept under constant surveillance, and fortunately neither Rolf nor Father nor Käthe had let on that she too had at one time been friendly with Beverloh. He had been Father’s protégé, after all, as well as Rolf’s friend, and Veronica had at one time been Rolf’s wife.
    Fear also for Helga, Hubert’s wife, whom she had never met, of whom she knew only that she was blond, was called Helga, and was a very nice person, and then there was a dear little boy called Bernhard, who would soon be receiving his First Communion; she knew the address but couldn’t go there, of course. Kübler and Rohner, the new guards, never let her out of their sight, and she couldn’t very well—while escorted and observed by Kübler or Rohner—go to Hubert’s home, stand outside the house, and wait for Helga and Bernhard to come out. Divorce was out of the question for Hubert, and Erwin in his pride and vanity still believed that she was three months pregnant by him, whereas the sixth month had just begun.
    He had been away for four months, traveling to Singapore, Panama, Djakarta, and Hong Kong, carrying on complex negotiations for the Beehive. He had had to establish whole production chains, find agencies, install mechanical equipment, hire representatives—and after successfully concluding this campaign he had come home jubilant. She must speak to Erwin, too, before he ran