Man Of Few Words

Chapter 64

I didn't think I liked cabbage, but it turns out I do. Prepared the way Inge made it, mixed in with potatoes and bacon and herbs, it's delicious.

Last night was much better. Obviously I'm still very unwell, and the evening (and the night, and the morning) was not without near-death experiences. Nothing dramatic, just the kind of experiences you have a lot of when you're near death. There were coughing fits, my energy was generally very up and down, I felt weak, and I got cranky and snappy here and there. But having had a little time to get her head around the situation and prepare herself mentally, Inge was totally accepting of everything and incredibly patient. Most importantly, she didn't smother me with worry and concern.

Over dinner, and for some time afterwards, we made lots of engaging, meaningful conversation. I told her many of the stories I've already shared in this book. In fact, I told her about this book. She's the first person I've mentioned it to. Neither Mum nor Dad ever asked what I was beavering away at in the study when I was at their place.

She told me about her childhood. She grew up in southern Germany, somewhere in the middle of nowhere between Nuremberg and Stuttgart. Then when she was 12 her family (that's just her and her parents – she's an only child) moved to England. Swindon to be precise. Lucky her.

It sounds like she had a rough time at secondary school. It can't have been easy fitting in as the new, shy, foreign kid. She told me that even at that age she spoke solid, fluent English, but the other kids found plenty to mock in her strong accent and unnatural phrasing. She has no accent now at all. I wouldn't have known she was German if it weren't for her name. She also has full British citizenship, considers herself British, and doesn't really have much contact with Germany any more. Her father still lives here, while her mother died in an accident 8 years ago. Inge seemed very reluctant to talk about what happened, but she did mumble something about a holiday in Turkey and a jet ski. I saw no reason to pry further.

Inge looks a bit like a camel. You might not think of a camel as a beautiful animal, but they can be. Really. Google it. I recklessly decided to tell her this directly to her beautiful, camel-esque face. My tact and self-filtering died a long time ago, I guess. But you know what, it ended up being by far her favourite thing I said to her the whole evening. First she blushed, then shook her head, then she laughed uncontrollably for several minutes. It was great to see, because she's otherwise quite reserved.

As I say, we sat at the kitchen table talking for a long time after dinner, but eventually Inge asked if I wanted to watch a movie or some TV or something. I said no, but asked if we could just sit quietly together on the sofa. She said she would like that, so we did. She dimmed the lights and each of us sat at one end of the sofa, leaning back, our eyes closed, only our hands touching. We just held hands and said nothing, I think for about an hour. I hadn't felt so calm in a long, long time.

I felt her body shifting and her hand squeezed mine.

"David," she whispered. I opened my eyes to discover her looking into them. She smiled warmly then kissed me very, very gently on the mouth. She held her lips there almost motionless for a few seconds, then placed her hand on my cheek and smiled at me again.

Without saying anything more, she stood up and lead me by the hand to her bedroom. I felt I should say something, but didn't. Part of me was panicking, but another part of me assured myself that this was right. That this was okay. Something about Inge assured me of that too.

She sat me down on the edge of her bed, then stood in front of me and slowly removed all of her clothes. It wasn't like a striptease – there was no dancing or jiggling about or licking of the lips or biting of the finger. But it clearly wasn't how she would undress were she alone either. She was slowly, methodically, meaningfully opening herself up to me.

When she was completely naked, she padded around to the other side of the bed and lay down behind me. She was on her side with her back to me. She reached for my hand, took it and laid it on her hip. And that was it. She did nothing else.

For me, for some time, it was enough to feel her softness and warmth beneath my hand. I didn't even move it for a long time. But eventually I started taking an active part in whatever you call what it was we were doing. I stroked her, I looked her all over, and I touched her in places other than her hip. She was silent. I couldn't even hear her breathing.

After I don't know how long, she rolled over and looked me up and down, almost expressionless.

"I don't think you should sleep in all that," she whispered.

I nodded with a sheepish smile. By this point I was lying next to her and, sitting up as little as possible as I did so, I clumsily pulled my clothes off piece-by-piece. While I did that, she rolled back the other way and turned out the lights.

Then we lay naked together, just touching. Not stimulating or exploring each other's bodies. Just feeling the presence and the warmth of each other. It wasn't at all sexual, I swear, but it was extremely intimate. The last thing I remember is hearing her just beginning to snore softly, then I too fell asleep.

In the morning I felt rested and, even more surprisingly, hungry. Inge made me round after round of hot buttered toast and brewed me a weak mug of tea. She silently watched me eat while she sipped at a mug of instant coffee. I craned my neck to look around her at the coffee jar. She turned to see what I was looking at.

"What?" she asked.

"It's Carnival," I smiled with a mouthful of toast.

She turned back to me and simply said, "Feel something."

Then she took another sip of coffee. I licked my lips and, with the back of my hand, wiped away the buttery, crumb-flecked grease making a break for my chin.

When we'd finished breakfast, she said, "I'm sending you home now. We mustn't get too close. We'll see each other again when we're both ready. But we will see each other again."

She stood up, kissed me on the very top of my forehead, then breezed away to the bathroom.