The Sinner by Petra Hammesfahr Read Free Book Online Page A

minuscule difference and shooed her into the living room.
    She hadn't thought of that for years, and now it seemed like only
yesterday. Father and his attempts to wrench the sin from his body and his stories about Buchholz in the old days - always the old
days, as if there were no today and no tomorrow Mother with her
coloured aprons, her stringy hair and the cross. And Magdalena,
her bluish, translucent porcelain features imbued with flawless
intensity by ever-present death.

    It was over. The Saviour had shed his blood and, by his death,
taken their sins upon himself and paved their way to heaven. She
saw his face before her, the look of understanding and forgiveness
in his eyes. "Father, forgive her, for she knoweth not what she doth."
Well, no one could know everything!
    She rinsed out her swimsuit and used it to swab her breasts and
stomach like a sponge. The water she wiped off with her hands.
There was a towel - it hung on a hook beside the basin - but it was
so grimy, it might have been hanging there for weeks. Then she
got dressed. The panties and T-shirt stuck to her skin, becoming
damp and transparent. She hesitated for a moment and looked
down at herself. Her breasts showed through the thin material. She
couldn't go outside like this. There were policemen waiting outside
the door. Men! It would look provocative if she confronted them
in this state. Mother would have a fit - she would feel compelled to
light the candles on the altar and force her to her knees ...
    She couldn't understand why this suddenly seemed so real. And
so important! Try as she might, she couldn't shake it off. The candle
flames continued to dance before her eyes. She blinked hard to
banish the image. When that didn't help, she opened the door and
spoke to one of the policemen. "Can you lend me a jacket?"
    The two men, who were only wearing their uniform shirts,
glanced at each other. The younger one lowered his gaze in embarrassment. The other, who could have been in his early forties,
managed to look into her eyes: not at the breasts showing through
the damp T-shirt. He seemed to grasp her problem. "You don't
need a jacket," he said in a gentle, fatherly tone. "There are people
over there with less on than you. Are you through? Shall we go?"
    She merely nodded.
    Still looking her in the eye, he asked: "Who did that to your
face?"

    "My husband," she said. "But he didn't mean to. He was very
upset and lost his temper." The policeman frowned as though this
information surprised him. He took hold of her elbow but swiftly
withdrew his hand when she flinched at his touch. "Let's go," he
said.
    And the candle flames went out at last.
    The lido had almost emptied while she was in the washroom.
Everyone except the immediate witnesses of the incident had left.
A group of figures could still be seen in the distance, where the
green blanket with the dead man lying on it must be.
    It was just after seven. Some twenty people were assembled on
the terrace adjoining the low building. They all stared at her as
she approached. She found their nervous, enquiring expressions
unpleasant.
    The three survivors of the green blanket party were sitting a little
apart from the rest. The seated man was trying to comfort the two
women. Ute thrust his hand away, sobbing incessantly. Standing
beside them was a youngish man in a sports coat. He was asking
questions and jotting down their answers in a notebook. Two
medics appeared on the terrace. Ute was led away. Alice followed.
    It was like a film set. Hustle and bustle everywhere, but she just
stood and watched. The older policeman escorted her over to a
chair and got one of the medics to examine her face, especially the
swollen eye. He was very friendly and stood beside her while his
younger colleague joined the man in the sports coat and exchanged
a few words with him.
    Gereon was still there too, holding the boy on his lap and looking
at the dressings on his arm. The