Safe as Houses (11 page)

And then, all of a sudden, she is up. When she least expects it, she shoots through the tough membrane that has separated her from the world all this time,

She opens her eyes and looks around, breathing hard. A television hanging from a stand shows a ball game. A ray of golden light streams through the window, giving the room a warm glow.

Very carefully, as though she might damage it irreparably, Senta lifts her hand and holds it in the sunlight. A pleasant warmth caresses her skin. Tears appear in her eyes.

At that moment, a woman with a white coat and a stethoscope around her neck comes into the room. She stops in her tracks when she sees Senta.

The next minute the room is full of doctors and nurses. They look at her and talk among themselves. The woman doctor with the stethoscope sits down on the edge of the bed, takes Senta's hand and asks her how she's feeling.

With difficulty, Senta manages something that resembles ‘good'. It's not much more than an ‘oo' sound, but they seem to understand.

‘I'm Lilian Reynders from Diagnostics.' The doctors looks at her with warm, dark eyes. ‘You've kept us on tenterhooks for quite some time, Mrs
Van Dijk. It's good news that you've woken up. Very good news!'

‘Where—'

‘You're in Intensive Care at the Radboud Hospital in Nijmegen. You had a car accident. Can you remember it?'

Senta looks at the doctor vacantly. A car accident?

‘You drove your car into the water. Luckily a passer-by saw it and got you out. Do you remember?'

Her only reaction is an astonished shake of the head.

‘It might come back to you,' Dr Reynders says in an effort to comfort her.

Frank and the children run through her head, but she has difficulty in making sounds. Dr Reynders must be a mind reader, because she smiles at her reassuringly.

‘We'll inform your family right away. In the meantime we'll run a couple of tests and see how you're doing.'

Senta resigns herself to the succession of activities that follows. They check whether she has regained control of her limbs – she has to move everything and say whether it hurts or not – blood is taken, and then a nurse wheels her away for an MRI scan.

When she is returned to her room, Frank and the children are sitting there waiting for her. As
soon as her bed is rolled through the door, they spring to their feet.

‘Senta, darling!' Frank takes a step forward and then hesitates. He waits until Senta's bed is back in place before sitting on the edge of it.

The children remain standing, pale and nervous, with tense eyes focused on their mother. Cautiously, as though the slightest touch could send her back into a coma, Frank takes Senta's hand in his and brings it to his lips. ‘We were so worried, darling. So terribly worried! Thank God you've woken up.'

Senta produces a weak smile. Her husband doesn't look well: he's as white as chalk, and his red-ringed eyes have bags under them.

Frank tenderly bends over her and kisses her gently on the mouth. ‘How do you feel?'

‘Tired,' Senta whispers.

‘You must be. You've gone through a lot.'

‘You could say you've had a lovely, long sleep,' Niels laughs, causing his sister to elbow him in the ribs.

‘Behave,' she says angrily.

Senta gives her elder son a reassuring smile. How tall the boy is, standing there at the foot of her bed. He towers over her, all arms and legs. His camouflage clothes and cap worn nonchalantly backwards are a good disguise for the emotional
tempest he's been through, but they don't fool his mother.

Impulsively she holds out her arms to him. Niels moves forward and puts his arms around his mother as best he can. There's something awkward about it, but it's the first time they've hugged for a long time. Niels has never been very physical, and he has always shrugged off her attempts at affection with something like impatience.

‘I'm glad you're back, Mum,' he says a little hoarsely.

Next Denise rushes into her mother's arms. She wraps herself around Senta and kisses her on the cheek. ‘You know what the doctor said? She said you might never wake up!' She stands up and rubs her eyes.

‘She didn't say that: you read it on the internet,' her father corrects her. ‘I told you not to get carried away by what was on those sites.'

‘But it could have happened! Mummy was in a coma!' Denise shouts.

Senta turns to Jelmer, standing silently next to his father. ‘Hey, sweetheart,' she manages to say softly. ‘How are you?'

Without saying a word, Jelmer climbs up on to the bed and snuggles against her. Senta moves over and wraps her arm around her son. She runs her hand through his dark brown hair and kisses the
top of his head. The familiar smell of her child sets off memories of their bedtime ritual: one last cuddle, tight arms around her neck and lots of wet kisses.

How could she have forgotten her family? How distant from them must she have been for that to have happened?

‘Don't worry,' she says, gradually recovering her voice. She looks at them one by one. ‘I've woken up now and everything's going to be all right.'

With the caution of someone who is not quite convinced, Frank strokes a stray lock of hair from her forehead. ‘Can you remember how the accident happened? What on earth where you doing on that embankment?'

‘I don't know . . . The only thing I can remember is that I was on my way back from Oss. And then . . .' She reflects for a moment. ‘It suddenly got very misty. Yes, I remember now. I ended up at a roundabout and I couldn't read the signs. I must have taken a wrong turn.'

‘But why were you driving so fast in the mist? That's not like you; you're always so careful.'

Senta looks at him in astonishment. ‘Was I driving fast?'

‘According to a witness, you were driving dangerously fast, Mum,' Niels says. ‘And that man should know: he saw everything.'

‘If that man hadn't been walking his dog there . . .' Frank shakes his head, as though wanting to drive further thoughts away.

An uneasy feeling steals over Senta. It's as if they're talking about a film they've all seen, one in which she has the lead role, only she can't remember any of it.

‘What exactly happened?' she asks uncertainly.

‘Can you really not remember, Mum?' Denise cries out. ‘You drove into the water! You nearly drowned!'

With a face that says he can hardly imagine anything so horrific happening to his mother, Jelmer sits up straight. ‘That's so horrible,' he says quietly.

Drowned. That's why she felt as if she had to rise to the surface of the water. She'd driven into the canal and almost drowned, and she can't remember any of it.

‘Who . . . how—'

‘The man who saw it happen got you out,' Denise says, helping her.

‘I can't remember a thing. Not a thing.'

There's a short silence.

‘It doesn't matter,' Frank finally reassures her. ‘The most important thing is that you survived, and that you escaped unharmed.'

They'll have to wait to see whether this is true, and when their eyes meet they realise it
simultaneously. With the children there, they don't say anything more. She is alive, she has recognised her family, she can move and talk. The rest is for the future.

‘I think you're better off not remembering,' Niels says. ‘It'll probably save you a lot of nightmares. And then we'd have had to leave the lights on all night.'

Everyone laughs, even Senta. A few months ago they'd persuaded her to watch a horror film, and it had been weeks before she'd dared to go to sleep in the dark.

The atmosphere becomes more relaxed. The children all chatter at the same time, making jokes. Jelmer gets down from the bed and thoroughly investigates the catheter and the monitors next to the bed. Frank quickly takes the place next to Senta and strokes her hand again and again.

Senta doesn't say much. She looks, listens and enjoys. The visit from her family tires her out, but she'd rather bite her tongue than say anything.

Niels is right, she thinks. It's probably better that she can't remember anything about the accident; she doesn't want to end up with a lifelong trauma.

But this knowledge is shot through with something else: a nagging feeling that it
would
be better if she could remember the accident. And the reason why she was driving so fast.

Lisa answers the phone with an uncertain voice. ‘Hi, Mum.'

‘Hi, darling, it's me,' her mother says, rather unnecessarily. ‘How are you doing?' Her voice sounds relaxed: she's clearly ready for a nice chat, and she has all the time in the world.

Lisa pictures her mother in the corner of her red sofa, a cup of tea within reach.

‘Fine,' she says. ‘Anouk is a bit ill.'

She doesn't know why she adds this; perhaps because it's what she normally would say. But a second later Lisa is ready to bite off her own tongue. Her mother immediately begins to ask worried questions and suggests coming round.

‘Really, Mum, it's not that bad. But she's coughing, so I'm keeping her in as a precaution.'

Her mother has to agree that this is sensible. ‘So
I don't need to come over? I don't mind at all, you know that. And you'll need to pop to the shops at some point.'

Lisa panics. ‘Then I'll take her with me or leave her at home. She's old enough.'

‘I don't agree, Lisa,' her mother argues. ‘No one leaves a five-year-old at home, do they? You wouldn't really do that, would you?'

Under different circumstances, Lisa might have argued with her, just on principle, but now it seems better to give in quickly. ‘No, I don't. You're right, Mum, anything could happen.'

Opposite her, Kreuger leans his arms on the table and gives her a broad grin. Lisa ignores him and half listens to her mother, who hasn't stopped talking.

‘Maybe I'll drop by later in the week. Let's see. Or is Mark coming round?'

Lisa takes a deep breath and forces herself not to look at Kreuger. ‘I don't know,' she says as nonchalantly as possible. ‘He's very busy.'

‘He has other commitments, you mean.' Her mother's voice suddenly sounds bitter, and Lisa knows what's coming.

‘Mum, I have to hang up, I'm expecting someone. It's a mess here and I still have to do the washing-up—'

‘Who's coming, then?'

‘A friend of mine. You know her – Julia.'

‘Oh,' her mother says disapprovingly. ‘She's allowed to come round and your own mother—'

‘I'm hanging up now,' Lisa says. ‘I'll see you later in the week, all right? But give me a ring first.'

Her mother's exclamation that she wants to have a word with her granddaughter is cut off as Lisa hangs up.

Kreuger curses. ‘Why did you hang up on her? You don't want that woman turning up here.'

Lisa reassures him that she has just ensured this won't happen: her mother and her friend Julia hate each other.

‘And if she'd got Anouk on the line, she'd surely have slipped up.'

Kreuger thinks for a moment, but then nods in agreement. ‘All right, well done.'

‘I told you I'd play along.'

‘Very sensible of you.'

‘But what will I get in return?' Lisa wants to know, as if she's in any position to make demands. ‘I mean, I'd like to know what's going to happen. How long are you going to stay here, do you think?'

‘What do you mean? Are you fed up with me already?' Kreuger leans forward over the table. ‘I'm disappointed in you, Lisa. I thought we were getting on nicely.'

‘We are, but—'

Kreuger stands up in a flash and pulls Lisa from her chair. He is suddenly so terrifyingly close that she can see the bloodlust in his eyes.

‘We are getting on nicely,' she says quickly. ‘Really! I think we've got a lot in common. Don't we?'

If she hadn't been so scared it would have been fascinating to study the transformation in his bearing: from aggressive to somehow helpless.

‘I loved her,' he says with difficulty. ‘And you know, you look just like . . . you look just . . .'

To her dismay, Kreuger slowly brings his face towards hers. His mouth comes closer, much too close. His dark shaven head, the stubble on his chin, his spots, his greasy skin – they all fill her field of vision. His smell penetrates her nostrils and makes her feel sick.

Suddenly she feels his hands on her body. First only on her shoulders, but then they slide downwards in a single liquid movement to her breasts, where they rest for a moment before beginning a kneading motion.

It is though she's standing stark naked in her kitchen, instantly stripped of all feelings of self-worth. The adrenalin rushes through her body, spurring her on to push him away, to knee him in the crotch, to claw at his eyes.

Instead she remains motionless, frozen in
revulsion. Who'd have thought that she'd ever allow a stranger to put his hand down her top and get her breast out of her bra cup? At the same time she feels his other hand grab her behind and pull her to his crotch. His mouth descends to her neck before returning to hers.

Lisa clamps her lips shut reflexively, but he forces them open with his tongue, which he then sticks down her throat until she practically gags. Her entire body resists, and all of sudden she can no longer allow him to carry on.

‘No!' she says with a strangled cry and pushes him off her.

He looks at her warily, like a predator wondering whether its prey really has the guts to fight back. ‘What do you mean, no? Don't try to tell me you don't want it.'

‘That . . . that's not it,' she says with difficulty. ‘It's just . . . here in the kitchen, with Anouk so near by . . .'

There's a silence.

‘I get it.' Kreuger's soothing tone makes it clear he's not angry. ‘No problem. We'll just go upstairs.'