The Glassblower(100)

Though it was a warm evening, the kitchen window was closed. The dirty dishes were piled high in the sink and a sour smell filled the air. Ever since Edeltraud had died earlier in the year, the housekeeping in the Heimer household had gone from bad to worse.

After she’d put in a full day in the workshop and got Thomas’s supper for him at home, Ruth was expected to carry on working here as well.

“And what shall I do with Wanda? Should I just put her on the floor?” Ruth answered venomously. As she spoke, the cat leapt up onto the windowsill and made himself comfortable. Ruth nodded toward him and said, “The tomcat has a better time of it in this house than the grandchild. At least the beast has a place to call his own.”

Eva shrugged. “Nobody’s stopping you from putting Wanda in one of the beds.”

“So that she can almost fall out like she did last time,” Ruth spat. She had only just caught the baby in time when she happened to look in on her. “A baby needs a safe bed.”

She hugged her little girl protectively to her breast. Wanda had started to cough. Her little body felt warm. “This horrid smoke is the last thing that Wanda needs.”

Suddenly everyone was looking at Ruth and her daughter. Sebastian took a good long draw at his pipe, as if to say, Well here we go.

“A cot, my word! As though you would leave it at that!” Eva snarled. “It has to be the finest silk and goose down before your sort are happy. “ She looked around, certain of approval.

Thomas glared at Ruth. “Do you really have to ask for the moon on a string like this?”

By now Wanda was coughing so hard that tears were streaming down her face. Ruth looked down at her helplessly, at a loss as to how to help her little girl.

“A fellow can hardly hear himself think with her hacking away like that,” Sebastian grumbled. “Tell her to quiet down!”

“If you want my opinion, a bit of discipline never did a brat any harm. I think we all know what happens when you spoil the little beggars too much . . .” Wilhelm Heimer shook his head as though he simply couldn’t believe his bad luck in having Ruth for a daughter-in-law.

Ruth looked at Thomas, who was busy opening another bottle of beer. He wasn’t going to sit there and let his father insult her, was he?

Eva made a great show of placing the dish of ham on the table.

“Don’t get angry, Wilhelm! Nobody can help their parentage,” Eva purred.

The others muttered in agreement.

“Am I supposed to be ashamed to be Joost’s daughter now?” Ruth snorted in astonishment. “You can hardly say I’m spoiling the child when she’s sick and I want to look after her. But I know what you’re all thinking—you all wish Wanda had never been born because she’s just a girl!” She spat out the last few words.

She felt like bursting into tears on the spot, but she didn’t want to give Eva—or any of them—the satisfaction. She stood up, her head held high.

“I’m going home. The baby has a fever and ought to be in bed. You can carry on talking business in peace and quiet,” she said, staring pointedly at the beer steins as she spoke.



It was long after midnight by the time Thomas got home. Even the way he opened the door told Ruth that he was drunk again. She knew she was right when he crashed into something in the hallway and began cursing loudly. She pulled the covers up over her chin and prayed that he would not wake the little one with his racket.

Wanda had fallen asleep almost as soon as she was back in her own bed, the cough vanishing instantly. Ruth had looked in on her again and again and put a damp cloth on her brow. Her forehead was still warm, but her breathing was regular again. Ruth wondered if it could be that her daughter felt sick when she was around the Heimers. Wanda probably felt how unwelcome she was.

The light went on. “Good evening, my dear!” Thomas came to the end of the bed and leaned against the bedframe. The wooden slats creaked.

Fool! Ruth shut her eyes more tightly. Why didn’t he just get undressed and go to bed? She wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink with him snoring drunkenly away, but at least she would avoid another argument. Ruth felt Thomas staring at her, puzzling over whether she was asleep or just pretending. She was sweating from every pore beneath the blankets.

He stumbled unsteadily over to the chair where he put his clothes every evening. Humming, he began to undress.

Ruth sighed with relief. It seemed there would be no more trouble tonight. But right at that moment, Wanda began to cough again.

Ruth held her breath. Stop. Please, please stop.

Thomas spun round so fast that it seemed he had only been waiting for the least sign of life from Wanda or Ruth. “There she is, yapping away again! Haven’t you done enough to annoy me tonight?” he slurred.