Читать книгу Shadow Sister - Литагент HarperCollins USD - Страница 14

I was twenty-two and still a student. Raoul was twenty-six. I was in my final year of teacher training at college in Rotterdam and travelled in from Berkel & Rodenrijs, where I lived with my parents.

My train was a commuter train, full of passengers who were delighted if they could find a seat and doze unashamedly or open up their morning newspaper. But the majority went through the daily torture of standing, packed together.

It was usually quite quiet when I got on and I’d be fortunate enough to get a window seat, safely out of reach of the pointy elbows in the central aisle. Engrossed in a book or course material, the time passed quickly and I barely noticed my fellow passengers.

One bright spring morning in March I was staring out of the window at the cows in the meadows and the clouds that seemed to rise up out of the mist. A loud shout broke my reverie. It came from the area next to the doors, where a few people were standing. Two young men stood facing each other. One was wearing a tracksuit, he was bald and had a nose ring; the other was dressed in a smart coat and had neatly combed hair – the picture of decency and good sense. But that must have been just show because the bald guy was shouting, ‘What did you say? Mind your own business, you prick!’

Everyone in the carriage was pretending not to have noticed.

The well-dressed man said something back, at which point the bald guy flew at his throat, pushed him against the corridor wall and punched him in the head.

I pushed past the man sitting next to me and rushed towards them.

‘Stop that!’ I threw open the glass doors. ‘Both of you!’

I threw myself between their fists. That stopped them momentarily – the scruffy guy looked at me in amazement, then irritation, and gave me a harmless shove. The well-dressed man seemed to be wondering if I was in my right mind. The scruffy guy tried to push me aside, but I didn’t let him. I grabbed his arm, looked him in the eye and said, ‘Stop! Please! Can’t you just discuss it?’

His expression was so full of fury I was frightened he’d hit me, but at that moment someone behind me said, ‘She’s right. Come on, lads, this isn’t the way.’

I looked around and saw the tall, dark-haired man who’d been sitting opposite me in the carriage. The fight was stopped, the two parties separated with final hateful glances at each other and I returned to my seat.

The man who’d come to my assistance sat back down opposite me. ‘That was brave of you,’ he said, ‘but also a bit foolish.’

‘Everyone pretending not to notice is the obvious solution, isn’t it?’ I snapped back, my cheeks flushed.

‘One of them could easily have had a knife.’

‘Don’t be silly, not everyone walks around with a knife.’

The man looked like he doubted that. ‘It can’t get much worse than it is.’

His words turned out to be prophetic. At the time knife-incidents were on the rise – these days the ticket inspectors won’t get involved in arguments on the trains.

Nowadays every suspect character who comes into Rotterdam is preventatively searched, street shootings have become banal, many secondary schools are equipped with surveillance cameras and metal detectors, and children who witness crimes are shot dead when they’re out playing. The violence is mounting and paralysing us all.

‘Why did you get up then?’ I asked my rescuing knight.

He shrugged. ‘I could hardly have stayed in my seat while a girl was sorting it out, could I? They might have stabbed you.’

‘They might have stabbed each other too.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed, in a way that suggested it wasn’t something he would worry about.

We got out together at Rotterdam Central Station, said goodbye and went our separate ways. Then he came back towards me.

‘I’ll walk with you a while,’ he said. ‘We don’t know where those guys are now.’

He accompanied me to the tram and I began to suspect ulterior motives. But he didn’t ask for my phone number or suggest we meet for a drink. He put me on the tram, the tram moved off and that was that.

At least, for that day. I saw him again the next day, standing on the platform, and happiness swept through me. He came over as soon as he spotted me.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘It’s me. You know, from yesterday.’

‘Yes, I do remember. Sometimes, if I really try hard, I can even remember things that happened the day before yesterday.’

He laughed and we took the train together. His name was Raoul and he’d just set up his own software company in Rotterdam. From the way he told me all of this, I could tell that he was single.

I was telling him about my course when three scruffy-looking musicians entered our carriage. Two played a brisk off-key tune on the guitar while the other one went around with a smelly cap. Raoul shook his head, but I gave the man some small change. Quite a few people gave me irritated glances.

‘See those dirty looks,’ I muttered to Raoul.

‘Some people find it annoying, they want to read their papers in peace in the mornings,’ Raoul commented. ‘Giving money only encourages begging.’

‘I’d rather they asked for money than pickpocketed my purse,’ I replied.

Raoul grinned. ‘I bet you give a euro to those people who don’t have quite enough cash for their train ticket.’

I blushed and Raoul shook his head pityingly. ‘You’d have been better off training to be a social worker.’

The train came to a standstill. The conductor announced that we’d be delayed for an indeterminate period of time, regretfully. I didn’t find it at all regretful.

As we continued talking, I studied Raoul. Was anything unattractive about him? By the time we pulled into Rotterdam station, I still hadn’t found it.

We went out a couple of times and during the course of one of those evenings, Raoul told me that he never usually took the train to work. The morning we’d met, smoke had poured out of his car engine and he’d had to take the train. A few days later his car had been repaired, but he’d kept taking the train to see me.

He was lodging temporarily with his parents in Berkel & Rodenrijs because he’d been able to get a good price for his house and hadn’t found a new one yet. He wanted to move to Rotterdam to be closer to his work.

A few dates later, I invested my feelings in him and six months later I invested my money in his company. We moved in together and two years after that we got married. Raoul’s business went well, particularly well, so that after we got married we could move into the chic Hillegersberg area, into a beautiful, spacious house with high ceilings and old wooden floors.

Raoul wanted me to be at home far more than I did – he didn’t want me to work, especially not in a teaching job. But I didn’t study education for four years to sit at home. His complaints got worse when Valerie was born. She’d been going to the crèche for two years, and was very happy there, when Raoul came home one evening and threw a letter down onto the work bench, where I was making pizza.

‘Look what I’ve got for you! An invitation to have a chat!’ His smile was broad.

‘Do you need to write me an invitation? Are things that bad between us?’ I joked.

He laughed and kissed my throat. ‘No, you idiot. There’s a vacancy in our PR department and it’s made for you.’

‘Public relations? Why would I want to do that?’

‘Don’t you like the idea? I think it would be perfect for you,’ Raoul said. ‘It’s a shared part-time job, you can choose between two or three days a week.’

‘Raoul, I’ve got a job.’

‘But you’re not going to be a teacher for the rest of your life.’ Raoul spread his fingers, a gesture that expressed his incomprehension.

‘Why not?’ I turned the oven to 200 degrees and took two purple placemats out of the cupboard. All the accessories in our home are purple; it’s my favourite colour.

‘Come on, Lydia! You don’t mean that Rotterdam College is your goal in life, do you?’

‘Any school is all right,’ I said, ‘as long as I’m making a difference for my students. And I don’t just mean in terms of their education. Do you get it?’

Raoul didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look like he got it. He stood there staring at me, his hands in his pockets.

‘So you’re not coming to work at Software International?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I know you don’t like Rotterdam College, but I’m happy there.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ Raoul said. ‘You always look so tired. I’d rather you didn’t work at all.’

I smiled at him. ‘Darling, I am always tired, just like you. But I don’t suggest that you sell your company, do I?’

He didn’t buy it. ‘I just don’t think it’s good for Valerie.’

My smile disappeared. ‘I’m always home when she finishes school.’

‘But she has to have lunch at school four days a week.’

‘She really likes having lunch at school!’ I shouted. ‘Why are you pulling a face? You knew beforehand that I wanted to keep on working. I don’t understand why you keep complaining about it. Why don’t you resign from your job?’

We’re still having this kind of conversation. Raoul is a modern man who will help with the housework and believes in sharing the load equally. He likes modern women who work for a living and contribute to society, but it’s something he appreciates in other women, not me.