Free Unformed Landscape by Peter Stamm Page B

stood by the window and waited, just waited for the figures to disappear. It was cold in the room. Kathrine pulled her uniform out of her suitcase, and put it on. She looked at herself in the mirror, ran her hands over the stout material of the overalls. A customs inspector, she thought, but it didn’t help. She took the bedspread off the bed, rolled herself up in it, and lay down on the floor next to the radiator, which was slowly getting warm. She cried silently to herself. She was afraid.
    Kathrine didn’t know how much time had passed when she heard a knock on the door. She was still lying on the floor next to the heater. It was dark in the window, she could see a slice of sky, but no stars. She heard Christian’s voice. Kathrine, he called, are you there? Yes, she called back, I’m coming.
    When she saw Christian’s shocked expression, she almost had to laugh. She threw herself around his neck and said, I’m so glad you’re here. He held her a little awkwardly, gave her little pats on the back, and asked if she was all right. And what she was doing here. And how she had found him. And why she was wearing her uniform. They let go of each other. Kathrine sat down on the bed. Christian switched on the overhead light and shutthe door. Then he sat on the bed, a little bit away from Kathrine.
    “Your parents told me where you were.”
    “You saw my parents? Did she let you in?”
    “Have you got time for me? I don’t want to… have you got a girlfriend here?”
    “A girl in every town,” Christian laughed. “I have so much work to do…”
    “What time is it?”
    “Nine o’clock. Shall we go and eat something? The restaurants close early in winter here.”
    Kathrine went into the bathroom. She left the door slightly ajar, and talked to Christian while she got changed. He asked her what she felt like eating.
    They ate in a bistro near the hotel. It was cold. The waiter pushed a paraffin stove nearer to their table, but it didn’t help much. The food was not especially good. The wine warmed Kathrine up, and gradually dispelled her confusion. Christian asked why she’d left, what she’d come here for. And she told him about Thomas’s lies, and her flight. She told him how she’d followed Thomas to his parents’ hut, and how he’d sat there motionless. That she’d been frightened. She didn’t talk about Morten.
    “Why does everyone up there have those little huts? What happens in them?”
    “They go there on Saturdays,” said Kathrine. “They sit at tables, and drink coffee or beer. And on Sunday, they go back home again.”
    Christian laughed.
    “Since I’ve left, I haven’t seen the sun,” said Kathrine. “I felt frightened.”
    “Are you frightened now?”
    “I’m not sure. It might come back. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
    “Fear is the possibility of freedom,” said Christian, and he smiled. “How did you like Paris?”
    Kathrine said she hadn’t seen much of Paris. Christian pulled a yellow envelope out of his briefcase, and took a pile of photographs out of it.
    “I was there last weekend,” he said. “Do you want to see the pictures I took? I picked them up today.”
    They looked at the photographs together. The waiter brought coffee, and offered them each a calvados. He filled their glasses up to the brim.
    Paris looked the way Kathrine had imagined it, the way she’d seen it in travel brochures and book illustrations. A beautiful city under a blue sky.
    “It’s beautiful, even when it’s raining,” said Christian. “You should have seen it.”
    “What happens now?” asked Kathrine.
    “I go home in two days. It took longer than we planned, but we’re done now. The final run-through is tomorrow.”
    He asked if she had enough money, and if she felt like visiting the factory tomorrow, and having a look at the machinery.
    “Do you want to meet me for breakfast?” he asked, once they were back at the hotel.
    “OK,” she said.