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Back The Woman on the Stairs Save as PDF
Chapters (83)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Bernhard Schlink
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. Part Two
  33. 1
  34. 2
  35. 3
  36. 4
  37. 5
  38. 6
  39. 7
  40. 8
  41. 9
  42. 10
  43. 11
  44. 12
  45. 13
  46. 14
  47. 15
  48. 16
  49. 17
  50. 18
  51. 19
  52. 20
  53. 21
  54. 22
  55. 23
  56. 24
  57. 25
  58. Part Three
  59. 1
  60. 2
  61. 3
  62. 4
  63. 5
  64. 6
  65. 7
  66. 8
  67. 9
  68. 10
  69. 11
  70. 12
  71. 13
  72. 14
  73. 15
  74. 16
  75. 17
  76. 18
  77. 19
  78. 20
  79. 21
  80. 22
  81. Author’s Note
  82. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  83. What’s next onyour reading list?

The door of the beach house was closed. I knocked, waited and finally went inside, entering a large room with an old iron stove and an old iron range, a hutch, a table, a couple of chairs and, through a door into a second smaller room, a bed, a nightstand and a wardrobe. The rooms didn’t look lived in – did Irene live up above in summer, and only come down here when it was cold? From the large room, another door led out behind the house to a pump and an outhouse.

I looked up at the other house. Nothing had changed, all the doors and windows were still open and the curtain was still fluttering in the wind. I sensed that I would not find Irene up there. I could go from room to room, shouting her name, to see her place, and get a sense of her life, but I didn’t want to do that. She had built a terrace onto the slope, where a vegetable patch was planted with lettuce, beans, tomato plants and raspberry bushes. It needed watering.

Suddenly, I had the impression that everything was lifeless. Abandoned. As if whoever had lived here had departed in haste, never to return, inviting the wind to sweep through the house, the rain to seep into the rooms, the floors to rot, the pillars to crumble. The fluttering curtain reminded me of photos of ruins, where a bomb has ripped off the side of a building, leaving rooms and their furniture, pictures, and curtains exposed.

The sun went behind a cloud, and a cooler wind blew in from the sea. The water in the cove lay gray and cold. I put on the sweater I had around my shoulders, but I was still chilled. I found a musty wool blanket on the bed, wrapped it around me, sat down on the bench on the veranda, leant my head against the wall, and waited.

2

I didn’t hear Irene’s boat come in. I had fallen asleep again. I heard her only when she sat down next to me and said: “My brave knight!”

I kept my eyes shut. Her voice sounded as it had then, dark and smoky and, as then, I couldn’t sense what it conveyed. Was she making fun of me? I felt indignant, but indignation was no way to begin. “Shining armour? This knight is tired, he is hungry and thirsty. Do you have anything to eat and drink?” I opened my eyes and looked at her.