tell me about old times, and the next time she sees Thomas she’ll apologize on my behalf, and pretend it wasn’t anything, and say I’d always been mulish like that. And he’ll take my side, and that’ll be the worst of it. Then she remembered she had sent in the lease, and that maybe there was someone else livingthere. She still had the key, but she didn’t have an apartment anymore.
“Are you thinking about home?” asked Christian.
“Are you? Are you glad to be going back?”
“Yes and no.”
Christian said he admired her. The way she managed her life, fought her way through, did what she wanted.
“What else am I supposed to do? I’ve got a kid. I have to earn money. What does that mean anyway, doing what I want?”
Christian said he was afraid of those things, renting an apartment, buying furniture, settling into a place.
“Why don’t you move in with your girlfriend?”
“I can’t make up my mind. I don’t really love her. She’s OK. She gets on well with my parents. And I suppose she’s quite nice-looking.” He laughed. “When I called my mother yesterday, she told me about meeting you. ‘An odd woman,’ she said, and ‘Who was that?’”
“Do you think I’m odd?”
“No. You’re something unusual.
Belle de nuit.”
“Do you think I’m pretty? Did you tell her we were traveling together?”
“I don’t think so!”
“Do you feel guilty about me?”
“We haven’t done anything wrong,” said Christian, looking serious, as though he had to convince himself.
Kathrine had to laugh. Then the train came. She saw people pushing their way through the narrow passages ofthe
couchette
coaches, and she was pleased that Christian had booked the more spacious
wagon-lits
. When the train moved off, she looked out of the window to get a last sight of the cathedral. She went into the compartment where Christian had already stowed the luggage away. The ticket inspector came and collected their tickets and passports.
“Up or down?” asked Christian.
Kathrine sat down on the lower bunk. He sat down next to her.
“I don’t want to go back,” she said, and after a while, “I want to sleep with you. Make love. What’s that in French?”
“
Baiser,”
he said, and got up. He went to the window, and opened it. Cold air filled the compartment. Christian stuck his head outside. Kathrine went up behind him. The wind scattered his hair. She put her arm round him. He screamed against the noise of the locomotive, a long, high scream like the noise of a locomotive. Like a child, she thought, he’s like a child. She pulled him to herself, his body touched hers without wanting to. She tried to press herself against him. He resisted. She rubbed her face against his neck and for the first time sniffed his skin and his hair. Then she suddenly felt him yield, his body thrust against hers. He turned round and kissed her. He kept his eyes shut tight.
They made love without a word, just the occasional yes or no, like a movement of the hand, nothing else. Christian was different from the way Kathrine had imaginedhim, fast and powerful, and still with something shy or irresolute about him.
You can never quite imagine it, she thought later, it’s always more or less than you’d thought. She wasn’t sure if it had been more or less.
They lay together in the dark in the narrow
couchette
. Sometimes a light flashed by outside, and for a moment she caught a glimpse of Christian’s face. His eyes were shut, and it was as though there was a man lying next to her whom she had never seen before. What she had seen of him before had disappeared, and what was left wasn’t much more than a naked body, well built, almost too well, which gave it something lifeless. When she stroked his chest with her hand, the skin felt like packaging material.
“What are we going to do?” asked Kathrine. “What happens next?”
“Sleep,” said Christian, “I’m tired.”
And tomorrow we’ll see, and she wondered
“Are you thinking about home?” asked Christian.
“Are you? Are you glad to be going back?”
“Yes and no.”
Christian said he admired her. The way she managed her life, fought her way through, did what she wanted.
“What else am I supposed to do? I’ve got a kid. I have to earn money. What does that mean anyway, doing what I want?”
Christian said he was afraid of those things, renting an apartment, buying furniture, settling into a place.
“Why don’t you move in with your girlfriend?”
“I can’t make up my mind. I don’t really love her. She’s OK. She gets on well with my parents. And I suppose she’s quite nice-looking.” He laughed. “When I called my mother yesterday, she told me about meeting you. ‘An odd woman,’ she said, and ‘Who was that?’”
“Do you think I’m odd?”
“No. You’re something unusual.
Belle de nuit.”
“Do you think I’m pretty? Did you tell her we were traveling together?”
“I don’t think so!”
“Do you feel guilty about me?”
“We haven’t done anything wrong,” said Christian, looking serious, as though he had to convince himself.
Kathrine had to laugh. Then the train came. She saw people pushing their way through the narrow passages ofthe
couchette
coaches, and she was pleased that Christian had booked the more spacious
wagon-lits
. When the train moved off, she looked out of the window to get a last sight of the cathedral. She went into the compartment where Christian had already stowed the luggage away. The ticket inspector came and collected their tickets and passports.
“Up or down?” asked Christian.
Kathrine sat down on the lower bunk. He sat down next to her.
“I don’t want to go back,” she said, and after a while, “I want to sleep with you. Make love. What’s that in French?”
“
Baiser,”
he said, and got up. He went to the window, and opened it. Cold air filled the compartment. Christian stuck his head outside. Kathrine went up behind him. The wind scattered his hair. She put her arm round him. He screamed against the noise of the locomotive, a long, high scream like the noise of a locomotive. Like a child, she thought, he’s like a child. She pulled him to herself, his body touched hers without wanting to. She tried to press herself against him. He resisted. She rubbed her face against his neck and for the first time sniffed his skin and his hair. Then she suddenly felt him yield, his body thrust against hers. He turned round and kissed her. He kept his eyes shut tight.
They made love without a word, just the occasional yes or no, like a movement of the hand, nothing else. Christian was different from the way Kathrine had imaginedhim, fast and powerful, and still with something shy or irresolute about him.
You can never quite imagine it, she thought later, it’s always more or less than you’d thought. She wasn’t sure if it had been more or less.
They lay together in the dark in the narrow
couchette
. Sometimes a light flashed by outside, and for a moment she caught a glimpse of Christian’s face. His eyes were shut, and it was as though there was a man lying next to her whom she had never seen before. What she had seen of him before had disappeared, and what was left wasn’t much more than a naked body, well built, almost too well, which gave it something lifeless. When she stroked his chest with her hand, the skin felt like packaging material.
“What are we going to do?” asked Kathrine. “What happens next?”
“Sleep,” said Christian, “I’m tired.”
And tomorrow we’ll see, and she wondered
Similar Books
