The Devil's Sanctuary (7 page)

Max carefully folded a piece of foil containing the bare fish bones. He licked his fingers and put the foil in the pannier beside him.

“Who said anything about a cheap false beard?” he said calmly. “Here at the Himmelstal clinic we don’t do anything on the cheap. Everything, from the toilet paper to the Oriental rugs in reception, is of the very highest quality. Are you done?”

He pointed at Daniel’s piece of foil, with its few scraps of fish and bones. Daniel nodded, and said, “And why would a rehab clinic have false beards at all?”

“We have a little theater, you know,” Max said, taking care of Daniel’s foil in the same neat way as his own. “A proper theater with a stage and dressing rooms and everything. It’s used as an auditorium for lectures, conferences, and so on. And also theatrical performances. The clients themselves perform, as a sort of therapy. For instance, I played Sun, the pilot, in
The Good Woman of Setzuan.
Much admired by the audience.”

“I can imagine,” Daniel said tartly. “Did you have a false beard?”

“No. But when I saw the collection of beards in the costume room, I realized the possibilities. It’s quite an impressive stock. The hostess in charge of props buys hair from a company in Britain. They supply all the big theaters and opera houses in Europe. Crepe hair, it’s called. It’s made from wool from Scottish sheep and is supplied in plaits of different shades. You stick it on a bit at a time with special glue, then cut it however you want it. There’s a particular technique you have to learn. But as a member of the drama group I’ve got a key to the costume room, so I’ve been able to put in a bit of practice. I’ve actually gotten quite good at it.”

He pointed at Daniel’s beard.

“We’ve got that dark brown, almost black color in the storeroom, and I bet I could come up with a beard like yours without too much trouble.”

Daniel wanted to protest, but Max went on calmly. “Of course the beard isn’t the only difference between us. There’s the way we move. I’ve been studying you carefully since you arrived, and I think I’ve got you pretty well now. That stiffness you had when you were younger is more pronounced. You sort of turn your whole body instead of just your head. Do you have trouble with your joints? A bad neck? No, you’re probably just a bit awkward. You ought to do more exercise. And those gestures you make with your wrists. As if you’re trying to delineate what you’re talking about. Putting. Everything. In. A. Little. Square. Box.”

Max demonstrated with his own hands. Encouraged by his success, he stood up and started strutting around the clearing, stiff and straight backed, gesticulating and pretending to have a conversation.

“There, that’s it, you see? I know what it’s all about. All under control. Completely under control.”

He put his hands together elegantly, and nodded sagely.

“Then there’s this, I almost forgot!” he cried in delight.

With an anxious expression he put his hands to his cheeks and squeaked: “Don’t touch my beard! Don’t hit me!”

Daniel jerked as if he’d had an electric shock. Max’s performance was exaggerated but disconcertingly accurate, he had to admit.

He himself had always been good at imitating other people’s speech, which had been very useful when it came to learning foreign languages. Now he realized that Max possessed the same talent, but to a considerably larger extent. His brother’s skill at mimicry went beyond speech to encompass the entire physical register: expressions, glances, gait, gestures. It was impressive, and alarming. Daniel felt a pang of relief when Max went back to his own languid body language.

“What do you think?” Max asked expectantly as he stamped on the ashes of the burned-out fire. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, I think you got most of it,” Daniel said curtly.

“Great! Praise from the highest judge. Well, perhaps it’s time to be getting home. And now you know how to catch trout. You’re going to manage absolutely fine for a few days.”

“Don’t be stupid. It’ll never work.”

“We’ll see,” Max said as he fixed the pannier to the bike frame. “We’ll see.”

DURING THEIR
journey back through the valley Max suddenly pulled up alongside Daniel, leaned toward him, and said in a breathless, intense voice, “I’m begging you, Daniel, please, do me this favor. I’ll never ask for anything ever again. But this is a matter of life or death. I mean that literally. Life or death. All I’m asking is that you make sure you’re in my cabin every morning and evening when the hostesses do their checks.”

“That’s all? But don’t you get any sort of treatment?”

Max slowed his pace.

“Gisela Obermann, my doctor, is trying to get me to go for therapy, but I’m not exactly keen. She might try to persuade you while you’re here, but you just have to say no, because that’s what I usually do. Anyway, I think she’s given up now. There’s no point unless you’re properly motivated.”

“But the other patients? I mean, you know people here. How am I supposed to behave toward them?” Daniel said, then realized that his question could be taken to mean that he had already agreed to Max’s suggestion.

“I don’t really socialize with anyone. Maybe a few words about the weather and stuff like that. You can manage that. And remember: The language at the clinic is English. For patients and staff alike. Don’t try to show off with your German or French.”

“But surely a lot of people here have German or French as their mother tongue?” Daniel said.

“Not all. This is an international environment. So stick to English. Otherwise people might get annoyed. There are paranoid people here who might think you were gossiping about them if they couldn’t understand you.”

The sun had gone down behind the mountain and dusk was filling the valley. High up on the northern slope, just before the green meadows were replaced by the part of the mountain that resembled a gravel quarry, Daniel could see a car’s headlights moving at low speed. So there was evidently a road up there as well.

“I really don’t know, Max,” he said. “Isn’t there some other way I could help you?”

Max shook his head firmly. “This is the best way. The only way.”

They had reached the village now and turned up toward the clinic. They parked the bikes at the back of the main building, leaving them unlocked.

“You can just borrow a bike whenever you need one. And you can ask for fishing tackle in reception,” Max said. “Before we go back I’ll show you the library. If I remember rightly, you read a lot.”

They headed up the slope toward two of the glass-fronted buildings.

“We might as well check out the fitness center as well,” Max said, leading the way into the first building.

On the ground floor they peered into a gym. A lone man was dribbling a ball around the vast space, trying to get the ball through a basketball hoop.

“You don’t play any ball games, do you, but maybe the exercise room might have something for you?”

The exercise room was large and well equipped, situated on the first floor in a brightly lit room. The high-tech machines and sweaty, panting people made Daniel think of a factory in a science fiction film.

“There’s everything you could ever want here,” Max said, but he was drowned out by a roar that made Daniel jump.

A man beside them was lifting a heavy bar with his muscled, tattooed arms, holding it up precariously as he grimaced with pain.

“And next to the changing room there’s a sauna and Jacuzzi,” Max went on, unconcerned. “Okay, I’ll show you where to borrow books.”

The next building contained a library, classrooms, and the combined theater and auditorium. As they went inside, Max suggested that Daniel take a look around the library while he ran a quick errand.

“You don’t need a card or anything. Just give your name to the librarian.
My
name.” he corrected himself, then left Daniel with a pat on his shoulder.

Daniel wandered aimlessly around the library. It seemed unusually well stocked for a clinic library. The journals section was impressive, with publications covering all manner of subjects in various languages. He leafed through a number of them, then carried on his tour of the shelves. Through the glass wall he could see that the lamps in the park were now lit.

Fifteen minutes or so later Max appeared.

“It’s good, isn’t it? You can even get Swedish books and newspapers here.”

They went out and Max led him past the swimming pool and tennis courts, all deserted at this time of the evening.

“There’s not much wrong with it as a holiday resort, is there?” Max said. “Don’t you think you could put up with it for a few days?”

“That’s not the point,” Daniel muttered.

Back in the cabin Max put on some modern jazz and poured them each some whiskey. They settled into the armchairs and Max talked about the group on the recording. It was a Dutch jazz ensemble, incredibly talented; he’d borrowed it from another patient.

“I thought you never socialized with anyone?” Daniel pointed out.

“There are a few people here who stick to the right level. Keep their distance. Just a few words. People you don’t mind lending books and CDs. That sort of thing’s fine. You don’t want to seem unpleasant, after all. Besides, we’re all in the same boat. But I’m really not interested in any more serious conversation than that.”

Daniel nodded sympathetically, tilted his glass, and looked down at the golden liquid.

“Where did you get the whiskey?”

“I bought it in the village. It’s not one of the expensive ones. But it’s not bad, is it?”

There was a knock on the door, and before either of them had time to get up the door flew open and one of the hostesses looked in. She was pretty, like a little girl, with big blue eyes and her hair in a ponytail.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Have you had a nice day?”

“Wonderful. I took my brother up to the rapids. He demonstrated a definite talent for fishing.”

“Really, you went fishing? Did you catch anything?”

The hostess was standing in the doorway while her male colleague nodded in greeting behind her.

“Yes, but we ate them all, so there was nothing left for the restaurant today. But my brother’s damn good at trout fishing. I’ve been trying to persuade him to stay awhile, so we can maintain a steady supply for the restaurant, but he’s eager to get away.”

“Don’t you like it here in Himmelstal?” The hostess turned her little doll’s face to Daniel, and her look of surprise was replaced by one of understanding. “Well, this is quite an unusual place. But possibly not as bad as you were expecting?”

“I think it’s quite wonderful here,” Daniel said truthfully. “In fact—”

But the hostess had already stepped back and was about to close the door.

“Sleep well!” she called.

Her colleague echoed her somewhere out there, and then they were gone.

“More whiskey?” Max asked.

Without waiting for an answer he refilled Daniel’s glass.

“Just a small one, then. Thanks, that’s fine.”

Max turned the music up.

“I love this.”

They sat for a while, just listening. The music was soft, relaxed, with an unusual, looping melody.

“And they’re Dutch, you said?” Daniel asked.

Max got up and read the group’s name from the cover with some uncertainty. Then they carried on listening in silence, sipping their whiskey.

“It’s been a good day, hasn’t it?” Max said.

Daniel nodded.

“A bit like our birthdays used to be.”

“Yes. The first act,” Daniel said.

Their extravagant, carefully arranged birthday parties always used to follow the same pattern: joy at seeing each other again, carefree games that got wilder and wilder and ended in squabbling, tears, and, not infrequently, some sort of accident—a fall from a tree, a badly aimed dart, a hard ball to the head.

Max gave a wry smile.

“Do you remember when we jumped from swings while they were still moving, to see who could get farthest?”

“Yes, when I looked to see how far you’d gotten, the swing hit me on the head and knocked me out, and I ended up with a concussion,” Daniel said.

“But we used to have a lot of fun when we saw each other as well. I don’t know why we didn’t meet up more often,” Max said, getting up.

He dug deep into the pockets of his shorts and pulled out something that looked like a small coil of rope and put it on the table.

Daniel said, “I think they had some sort of arrangement, Mom and Dad. And I suppose there was a lot of old history between them.”

“You were lucky, getting brought up by Mom,” Max said as he carried on pulling things from his pockets.

He went and fetched a shaving mirror, which he set up on the table, then he moved one of the floor lamps. Daniel watched him curiously but let him get on with it.

“You were okay with Dad, weren’t you?”

“You reckon?” Max let out a short, joyless laugh as he adjusted the angle of the lamp to get the light to fall just right. “He was always working. I didn’t get brought up by Dad but by Anna. And obviously you know”—he glanced at Daniel with a demonic grin—“that all stepmothers are witches.”

“But Anna was the one who taught you to walk and talk and everything,” Daniel pointed out.

“Children learn to walk and talk on their own.”

“But she devoted loads of time and attention on you. I remember her having long phone calls with Mom, telling her about how you were developing and what progress you were making. She was totally engaged with you.”

Max sat down at the table. He inspected his face in the mirror, fine-tuned the lamp, and said, “The same way a scientist is engaged with a laboratory mouse, sure. Because she was a scientist first and foremost.”

“She was almost finished with her doctoral thesis in educational science when she married Dad. She gave up her career to look after you and the house,” Daniel reminded him.

“Educational science? Ha!”

Slowly Max started to unroll one of the coils of rope, and Daniel saw it was a sort of tightly wound plait. Max carefully untangled it as he went on. “What she did was more like dressage. She was only interested in me as long as I did the right thing. But she treated me like I was nothing if I got anything wrong. Refused to talk to me. Made food for herself and ate it while I stood and watched. If I made a fuss to get her attention, she used to lock me in a little room in the basement. She never told me what I’d done wrong, I had to work it out for myself.”

Daniel was staring at his brother in astonishment.

“Did Dad know about this?”

Max shrugged his shoulders. “He was never home, was he?”

An acrid smell was spreading through the cabin. Max had unscrewed the lid of a small bottle and was applying some of the clear contents to his chin with a little brush.

“Didn’t you tell him that Anna was treating you badly?”

Max’s laugh sounded strained, because he was trying to hold his neck still and keep his chin tilted up. He attached a strand of dark hair to his chin, took a sip of whiskey, then turned toward Daniel.

“I didn’t
know
she was treating me badly. I thought
I
was the one who was behaving badly.”

Max drank the last of his whiskey. The long, dark strands of hair were dangling like a sort of seaweed from his chin.

“Don’t worry about what it looks like now,” he said as he saw the critical look on Daniel’s face. “It’ll be fine when it’s finished.”

He attached another strand and went on. “When I got a bit older I stopped bothering about her. I had my friends. I managed okay. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Maybe so you’ll understand me a bit better. I’ve always had to
fight
to get rights that you took for granted. Do you want more whiskey?”

“No thanks. I’m going to bed.”

On his way to the bathroom Daniel glanced in amusement at his brother.

“What look are you aiming for, Max? An old troll? A hippie with irregular hair loss?”

Max leaped up and before Daniel had time to close the bathroom door he had forced his way in. He took an electric razor out of the bathroom cabinet and put it down on the basin with a very firm gesture. He pointed toward Daniel’s beard and said, “There you go.”

Before Daniel could reply he left the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Daniel washed his face and upper body. The whiskey had left his limbs pleasantly numb.

He thought about what Max had said about his stepmother, Anna Rupke. Was that really true? He remembered Anna as a dependable, plump woman. Strong. Intelligent. Efficient.

Beyond the closed bathroom door he could still hear the Dutch jazz musicians.

“Do you remember your promise?” Max said from the other side of the door.

Had he promised anything?

He could see Max before him as a little boy. Standing in the kitchen doorway as big, strong Anna sat on her own, eating at the table.

He brushed his teeth as he inspected his face in the mirror, rinsed his mouth, spat, and then said to himself, “This is never going to work.”

Then he picked up the electric shaver and turned it on.

“This is never going to work,” he muttered again as he ran the shaver over his cheeks.

When he was done he stood and stared at his naked face in the mirror. The angle of the cheekbones and chin, the little depression in his top lip. His pale skin, the uncovered pores. All the things that had been hidden for so long.

He went out to his brother, who was still sitting at the kitchen table fiddling with his false beard.

“It’s not ready yet,” Max muttered. “This takes time. Do something else for a bit. There’s a paperback in the alcove. It’s good.”

Daniel went and got the book, an American crime novel. He sat down on one of the wooden armchairs by the open fireplace and tried to read. Eventually the plot of the book forced out his own anxious thoughts and he had just managed to get into it properly when Max tapped him on the shoulder.

Daniel looked up.

Max no longer had just a few random, wispy strands of hair on his chin. He had a thick, full beard of exactly the same length and dark brown, almost black color that Daniel had just shaved off. It covered most of his face, and it looked alarmingly natural. Even the odd copper-red hairs were there, the ones that only showed up in certain types of light and that Daniel didn’t think anyone but him had ever noticed.