classmates heâd immediately be branded a swot and would lose all credibility. On the other hand, he came across as a loner anyway. Other boys his age didnât hang around in bookshops all afternoon, admiring books for their aesthetic appeal.
âIt could mean: the one born with ringlets.
Natz
, I mean. From
natus
, born.â
âNice idea,â Valerie said, realizing how much sheâd come to like this boy. Whenever he didnât pop in, she caught herself glancing at the door to see whether he might not turn up after all. Whenever she was sorting through books and discovered one that looked particularly unusual, sheâd put it on the little table beside the armchair so that heâd find it on his next visit.Whenever it rained, she hoped heâd remembered to bring an umbrella. Timmi had become part of this strange state of affairs that had taken her through summer and into autumn, and now the question of how this whole business could possibly be brought to a successful conclusion was a matter of urgency.
When Valerie saw Timmi standing in the doorway the following day (it wasnât raining, nor had there been any spectacular book discovery), she grabbed a cup and filled it with tea and milk without asking him. The boy took the cup with a smile and a nod, appearing completely at home, and looked at her inquisitively.
âIâve been doing a bit of research into Ringelnatz. You knowâ¦â Valerie said.
âThe pseudonym.â
âYes. Well, Ringelnatz himself claimed that the name had no significance. He chose it because he liked the sound of it.â She took a cup of tea too and sat in the armchair, while Timmi perched on the stool. âBut there are clever people who have other theories. Some argue that the name comes from a ring snake.â
âA snake?â
âA very special snake. Itâs equally at home on land as it is in water. I think that sounds quite plausible. Atany rate, Ringelnatz did spend some time at sea.â
âWas he a sailor?â
âYup.â
âCool.â Timmi sniffed his tea then took a sip, as if heâd got lost in a Jane Austen novel and was now able to play the part of the Earl of Somewhere. âWhat about the other theory?â
âOh⦠well thatâs linked to a sailorâs term: ringelnass.â
Timmi said nothing and drank his tea.
âRingelnass is a common sailorsâ term for a seahorse.â
âI like that theory. I donât like the idea of a writer calling himself after a snake. But a seahorse, that suits.â He put his cup smartly onto the table, said, âThanks. I must be off.â and disappeared without having so much as glanced at a single book.
Timmi still owed four euros when his visits to the little bookshop ceased. He simply stopped coming. Once Valerie thought she saw him running past on the opposite side of the street, but by the time sheâd got to the door, the boy was nowhere to be seen. It was several weeks before the peculiar barrenness that his absence generated was overgrown again with the regularity of her daily routine and the irregularitiesof life. Perhaps heâd moved, perhaps heâd discovered another passion. Perhaps his pocket money had stopped and he was ashamed of his debts (although Valerie would have been very happy to waive the sum he still owed). But although Timmi would soon become a mere footnote in the history of Ringelnatz & Co., something of him remained: an enthusiasm for seeing things in a very different way from usual.
THIRTEEN
L ife sometimes proves to be an accumulation of events following on thick and fast from each other, sometimes appears as a wild vortex of barely manageable demands, often as chaos, but the elements of life always follow a very particular order: they take place consecutively. Every moment is followed by another and another and yet another until your timeâs up â and even after that it goes on
âIt could mean: the one born with ringlets.
Natz
, I mean. From
natus
, born.â
âNice idea,â Valerie said, realizing how much sheâd come to like this boy. Whenever he didnât pop in, she caught herself glancing at the door to see whether he might not turn up after all. Whenever she was sorting through books and discovered one that looked particularly unusual, sheâd put it on the little table beside the armchair so that heâd find it on his next visit.Whenever it rained, she hoped heâd remembered to bring an umbrella. Timmi had become part of this strange state of affairs that had taken her through summer and into autumn, and now the question of how this whole business could possibly be brought to a successful conclusion was a matter of urgency.
When Valerie saw Timmi standing in the doorway the following day (it wasnât raining, nor had there been any spectacular book discovery), she grabbed a cup and filled it with tea and milk without asking him. The boy took the cup with a smile and a nod, appearing completely at home, and looked at her inquisitively.
âIâve been doing a bit of research into Ringelnatz. You knowâ¦â Valerie said.
âThe pseudonym.â
âYes. Well, Ringelnatz himself claimed that the name had no significance. He chose it because he liked the sound of it.â She took a cup of tea too and sat in the armchair, while Timmi perched on the stool. âBut there are clever people who have other theories. Some argue that the name comes from a ring snake.â
âA snake?â
âA very special snake. Itâs equally at home on land as it is in water. I think that sounds quite plausible. Atany rate, Ringelnatz did spend some time at sea.â
âWas he a sailor?â
âYup.â
âCool.â Timmi sniffed his tea then took a sip, as if heâd got lost in a Jane Austen novel and was now able to play the part of the Earl of Somewhere. âWhat about the other theory?â
âOh⦠well thatâs linked to a sailorâs term: ringelnass.â
Timmi said nothing and drank his tea.
âRingelnass is a common sailorsâ term for a seahorse.â
âI like that theory. I donât like the idea of a writer calling himself after a snake. But a seahorse, that suits.â He put his cup smartly onto the table, said, âThanks. I must be off.â and disappeared without having so much as glanced at a single book.
Timmi still owed four euros when his visits to the little bookshop ceased. He simply stopped coming. Once Valerie thought she saw him running past on the opposite side of the street, but by the time sheâd got to the door, the boy was nowhere to be seen. It was several weeks before the peculiar barrenness that his absence generated was overgrown again with the regularity of her daily routine and the irregularitiesof life. Perhaps heâd moved, perhaps heâd discovered another passion. Perhaps his pocket money had stopped and he was ashamed of his debts (although Valerie would have been very happy to waive the sum he still owed). But although Timmi would soon become a mere footnote in the history of Ringelnatz & Co., something of him remained: an enthusiasm for seeing things in a very different way from usual.
THIRTEEN
L ife sometimes proves to be an accumulation of events following on thick and fast from each other, sometimes appears as a wild vortex of barely manageable demands, often as chaos, but the elements of life always follow a very particular order: they take place consecutively. Every moment is followed by another and another and yet another until your timeâs up â and even after that it goes on
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