In front of her lay a loaded gun. Before twenty-four hours were up, she would have used that gun to shoot somebody.

With good reason and of her own free will.

53

After nights of exile on the sofa, Norah had slept in her bed again, the gun beside her. She knew as soon as she opened her eyes. Today was the day.

She looked at her watch—a little before nine. The eleventh. A dark, wet February morning in Vienna. She went into the kitchen for a glass of water, surprised at how calm she was. No more trembling fingers. She longed for the evening to come. She knew what she had to do. The night before, she had prepared everything and then sunk into a dreamless sleep. There would be no sleep tonight. Norah drank another glass of water. When it was empty, she saw that the orchid she had brought from Berlin had wilted.

She decided to have coffee in the corner bistro. On the way there she saw the young woman who had once given her a caramel—Marie. She was standing in a doorway on the other side of the road, talking into her phone and crying. Norah averted her eyes.

The three old ladies were at their usual table and nodded at Norah when she walked in. She ordered a cappuccino and a croissant. When she’d finished eating and drinking, she glanced up and saw that the clock above the door had stopped. Like a watch that stops when somebody dies, Norah thought.

Back in her flat it was, at last, time for Norah to make final arrangements. First she rang Max.

‘Hello,’ he said.

‘Morning. All well with you?’

‘Sure. And you? Today’s the big day.’

As if she didn’t know.

‘Are you still on for this evening?’ Max asked. ‘Still up for hunkering down together? We could get in some food from the Thai restaurant you like. I’ve already bought the wine.’

‘That’s why I’m calling,’ Norah said. ‘I’m not feeling great. I think I might be coming down with something.’

There was a moment’s silence.

‘You’re not just saying that so that you can slope off to the Prater this evening, are you?’

‘Have I ever lied to you?’ Norah asked.

‘No, I don’t think you have,’ said Max. ‘Have you seen a doctor?’

‘No, but I really don’t think it’s necessary. I just need to sleep it off.’

‘It’s probably the stress of the last few weeks,’ Max said, sounding worried. ‘Do you need anything? Is there anything we can bring you?’

‘No, I’m okay. The fridge is full; I won’t need to go out today. I have a feeling I’ll sleep all day anyway.’

‘Have you got a temperature?’

Norah almost smiled. Max always had loved looking after people. When they were students, he was the one who had held her hair out of her face when she got home so drunk or stoned that she had to throw up; he was the one who’d made sure she ate properly and lectured her when she confessed to having had unprotected sex. He’d make a great dad one of these days—though his mothering did get her down sometimes.