The Glassblower(105)

“What for?”

Johanna wasn’t quite sure what she meant. All she knew was that there was not a man in the world she was fonder of. Perhaps she even loved Peter. In her way. “For not trying to talk me out of this.” And then, because she couldn’t help it, she added, “Given that you’d much rather have me come and work for you.”

“Well,” he replied, “life doesn’t always work out the way we’d like it to.” He sighed, deep in thought. “It looks as though I’ll just have to get used to the idea of eventually marrying a businesswoman.” He shrugged expressively, comical and resigned all at once.

“Peter!” Johanna gasped. “I can’t believe my ears. Do you never give up?”

He just looked at her. “No, not where we’re concerned. I never give up.”



The next morning Ruth made breakfast and then went upstairs to wake Johanna. All of a sudden the memory of old times was so strong that for a moment she believed she would hear Joost clattering around in the washhouse. What would he make of their plans? She stopped for a moment at the dormer window and looked out into the cloudless sky. He would approve, she decided, then walked into the bedroom.

“Time to get up! Today’s the big day!” As Ruth swept open the faded curtain, Johanna mumbled, “I’m already awake.” But Ruth, not entirely convinced, shook her sister’s shoulder just to be sure.

“Train’s leaving in half an hour. Don’t you dare go back to sleep!” How had her sister ever managed in Sonneberg, she wondered, not for the first time. Then she glanced into the little room next door, where Wanda was sleeping peacefully in Marie’s old cot. With any luck she would stay that way until Johanna was safely out of the house.

By the time she went back downstairs, Marie had already finished her coffee. She was standing at the sink, washing out her cup.

“I’m so nervous! I probably won’t manage to paint a single flower stalk today, everything will turn out zigzags.”

“Don’t let anyone notice. Otherwise Thomas will come round again wanting to know what’s going on. He doesn’t like it one bit that I can get by without him,” Ruth answered, pouring a cup of coffee for herself. “There’s no need for him to know what we’re up to yet.” “Not answering back now, Ruth Steinmann, are you?” She could hardly wait to see his silly face once they had their contract in the bag. She savored a mouthful of coffee.

“You’re right,” Marie agreed. “It’s probably nothing more than a pipe dream anyway.” But her face was flushed with excitement and her eyes gleamed with expectation.



Ruth had no patience even for Wanda that day, and Marie felt the hours drag by in the Heimer workshop. They could think of nothing but Johanna and how she was getting on. How many wholesalers would she have to visit before she found one who liked Marie’s baubles? Would she really get an order? Or would none of them want to buy from a woman? When the sun began to sink in the sky, a glowing red globe, they wondered when they could expect Johanna back. Was it a good or a bad sign that she was away for so long?

Peter joined them after his workday was over; he too was impatient. He suggested going to meet Johanna at the station, but Ruth and Marie were against the idea. What if one of the neighbors saw them all waiting for Johanna? It would only lead to prying questions. So Peter was reduced to pacing up and down in front of the door like a prison warden. Ruth and Marie left him to it.

It was almost eight o’clock when they finally heard him say, “She’s coming!” They all rushed outside.

Johanna was as white as a sheet. She didn’t wave her hand, or laugh, or call out “We’ve got a contract!” From the look on her face and her heavy gait, there could only be one explanation.

It had all gone terribly wrong.

They didn’t dare look at each other. They were rooted to the spot as they watched Johanna approach. Neighbors passing by on the street watched the scene in surprise.

“Johanna, what’s the matter? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Ruth cried out at last.

Johanna walked past them into the house, her shoulders drooping. Her dress was clinging to her back where the sweat had run down between her shoulder blades. She sat down at the table.

“I feel like I have.” Her voice was as frail as an old woman’s, and her eyes wandered aimlessly around the room.

Was it the heat? Or had Sonneberg reawakened painful memories of the rape? Had it all been too much for her?

Ruth and Peter exchanged worried glances while Marie put a glass of water in front of her sister.