Stasi Child Read Online Free PDF Page A

in the paper.’
    Gottfried didn’t respond or acknowledge her, but threw the contents of the dustpan into the bin, and then resumed his coffee-making, crashing the pan down on the hob.
    ‘It took longer than we expected,’ she said.
    He turned towards her, folding his arms across his honey-and-brown striped pullover. The one his parents had bought him for Christmas. The one she hated – it made him look so old. The one he used to hate too. At the time, they’d giggled secretly with each other about the gift and how awful it was, his elderly parents’ lack of fashion sense all too clear. His wearing it now sent its own message to Müller: a private rebellion.
    ‘You were with him, weren’t you?’
    ‘Him? I don’t know what you mean.’ Faced by his silence, she found herself blabbering. ‘It just got so late, I had to sleep over in the office. I didn’t want to come back in the middle of the night and disturb you.’
    He advanced towards her, his face red and blotchy. ‘I don’t believe that for a minute.’ His wire-rimmed spectacles had slipped part way down his nose. ‘I’ve seen the way he looks at you.’
    ‘It’s not what you think,’ Müller protested, moving her hand towards his shoulder. ‘And I’m sorry, I should have phoned. I missed you last night.’
    He pushed her back.
    ‘You do know very well what I mean. You’re an attractive woman. Tilsner’s always eyeing you up. I bet you finally fell for it. Was it good?’
    ‘That’s not –’
    ‘Not what? There’s no point lying, Karin. It’s obvious something’s going on. When did he first get into your knickers? When I was in Rügen?’
    Müller sighed. It was futile arguing. He was the typical schoolteacher: always certain he knew best. Worse than that, a maths teacher – inhabiting a world where everything was right or wrong, black or white. She turned around and trudged to the bathroom, slamming – then locking – the door, and turned on the cold tap. Cupping her hands under the gushing, icy water, she splashed it over her face. She wasn’t sure if she was washing herself, waking herself or trying to get rid of her guilty blush.
    She hung her dressing gown on the back of the door, and slumped onto the toilet seat, head in hands. Where had it gone wrong with Gottfried? She remembered the frisson of excitement when they’d first met, playing ‘chocolate kiss’ at a family birthday party for his young niece. She just out of police college, trying to forget all that had gone on there, and he a newly qualified teacher. They’d joined in enthusiastically, feeding chocolate marshmallows to each other, until it had turned into an actual full-blown kiss, much to Müller’s embarrassment, and much to the delight of the children present.
    It was true: she had found herself more and more attracted to Tilsner, despite the fact that he had scant regard for his own marriage, and in the workplace was more often than not arrogant and insolent. When Gottfried had been away in Rügen – temporarily banished to the reform school after failing to instil his Berlin pupils with enough party zealotry – she had felt lonely. Drawn to Tilsner with his stubbly, craggy face and well-muscled body. And now Gottfried was back, well, it was no better. The few months in Rügen had aged him, transforming him from the overgrown student she’d first fallen for into a poor impression of a crusty old professor. And now he’d started attending those infernal meetings at the church. It was all just –
    Gottfried hammered on the door.
    ‘How long are you going to be in there?’
    ‘I’m just starting my shower – maybe another ten minutes,’ she shouted, above the hiss of the spray. ‘Then we should talk.’
    ‘I don’t want to talk. I’m going out.’
    ‘Hang on a minute –’ Müller turned off the taps, hurriedly slipped the dressing gown back on and rushed out. She was just in time to see the apartment door slamming closed. She ran and opened it,