The Glassblower(46)

“I caught a ride most of the way. A slate-maker took me on his cart as far as Steinach. He didn’t ask nearly as much as the railway does for a ticket. And he said that I can ride with him every Friday,” Johanna told them. “But it was a lovely surprise to see you waiting there for me,” she said to Peter, who was sitting next to her. “How did you even know when I would be coming home?”

He shrugged. “A day’s work in Sonneberg can’t last any longer than it does in Lauscha, can it?” He had actually spent well over an hour standing waiting at the edge of the village, but he kept that to himself.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Johanna said, getting up again to fetch her bag. “I brought you something.”

“Salted herring!” Ruth clapped her hands, almost snatching the jar from Johanna. “And you only tell us now?” She took her fork and fished a herring out onto her plate, and then another. “It’s almost like old times . . .”

For a moment her comment hung in the air like an icy breath. There was an awkward silence. It still hurt to think of Joost Steinmann.

Peter cleared his throat. “So go on and tell us. How have you been doing in Sonneberg?”

Johanna grinned. She looked from Peter to her sisters. “I’m doing well.” She didn’t know where to start.

“We want to know everything!” Marie said. “Where do you live? What’s Strobel like? What do you do all day? And and and . . .” She leaned across the table to Johanna.

Johanna held up both hands to fend off the questions. “All right then, all right. Well, it’s like this: I get up at seven o’clock. Then . . .”

“You get up at seven o’clock,” Ruth broke in. “And who wakes you up?” She winked at Marie.

“Nobody! Believe it or not, now that I don’t have anybody to rely on in the mornings, I somehow manage to wake up on my own. Though it’s still dreadfully hard.” She made a face.

“It almost sounds as though it was my fault that you were always so groggy in the mornings,” Ruth said sharply.

“Nonsense,” Johanna said, smiling to placate her.

Marie waved this all away; it was all water under the bridge. “So? What next? What’s your room like?”

“My room’s small but very pretty. There’s a bed with a real feather duvet. And a window looking out onto the yard, with a table and chair by it. It has wallpaper with a sort of blue-and-white pattern. There’s a mirror as well, and the housekeeper brings me a basin of hot water every morning, which means I can wash in my room.”

“So there’s a housekeeper,” Ruth declared enviously.

Johanna decided not to mention the lavender soap for the moment, even if it did smell wonderful. “Her name’s Sybille Stein and she’s everything that Edeltraud isn’t. She’s as skinny as a goat and not much older than I am. She’s a neighbor’s wife. She doesn’t live in the house of course, but she comes round every morning at six o’clock. She makes up the fire in the kitchen, heats the water, and gets breakfast. And while we’re eating she goes off to the stockroom and opens the shutters and lights the lamps so that it’s nice and bright when we get in.”

“And Strobel? Where does he sleep?”

“His apartment is up on the second floor, but I’ve never been in there. My room’s right behind the shop, next to the kitchen.”

“That’s good. I still don’t like the idea that you spend your nights sleeping in a strange man’s house,” Peter said, his eyes blazing.

Ruth smiled. “Are you jealous? To be honest I wouldn’t like the idea either.”

“I certainly felt a little odd the first two nights. After all, I’ve never spent the night on my own before. I pricked up my ears at every strange sound,” Johanna admitted. “But really, there’s nothing to it. Every parlor maid and scullery maid has to spend the night in her master’s house as well.” She shrugged. She would never have believed that she could get used to a strange room so quickly, with all its strange sounds and smells.

“And many a maid has been sent home from work in the family way.”

“Peter!” Marie turned scarlet. Ruth giggled.

“But it’s the truth! And better to talk about it out in the open now than regret it later. Joost cosseted you girls for years so that nothing happened to you. It’s no surprise that you know less about life than other women. Johanna, you probably wouldn’t even notice if Strobel had some kind of mischief in mind with you.”

Johanna shook her head. “Nonsense. How naive do you think we are? If Friedhelm Strobel had any untoward designs upon me, I should certainly notice. But he is as correct and honorable as a man can be.” Johanna didn’t mention that she still felt a little uneasy around him. “Quite apart from which, I have my own key, and I always lock my door at night. Strobel told me to do that himself. He said that some villains broke into his stockroom once. And that he didn’t want me to be in any danger if it happened again.” She looked around at each of them in turn to see how they reacted to the news. Surely that was proof enough of Strobel’s honorable conduct?