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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?

“Will you help me up to my room? I can’t make it alone.”

She had parked the Jeep above the house, and on the way down, she leant on my right arm. But then I had to put both arms around her to hold and guide her. The stairs in the house were steep and narrow; Irene said since she often took the stairs on all fours, like a dog, she could let herself be carried by me like a dog as well. I picked her up, carried her upstairs and laid her on her bed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I overdid it. When I do everything nice and slowly, it’s okay. But I’m no good at doing that. I overdo it, then my legs go weak and don’t want to carry me, and sometimes my head doesn’t want to go on either.”

I fetched the chair and sat down next to the bed. “What do you have?”

“My brave knight,” she smiled, “nothing you can save me from. Just let me sleep a little.”

She closed her eyes. Her breathing became regular, sometimes her eyelids fluttered, sometimes her hands wandered over her belly, saliva pooled in the corner of her mouth. She smelled sick, not sick the way my children did when they had their childhood colds, or flus, or stomach aches. Irene smelled strong, strange, repulsive.

What was I still doing here? I knew what I had needed to know. She was even sorry that she had used me – what more did I want?

I got up quietly, left the house and went down to the beach. My luggage was on the jetty, with a note stuck in the zip of my travel bag. Mark had come in the morning, because he would be held up in the afternoon and evening; he was sorry he’d missed me and been unable to bring me back, but at least he’d brought my bag.

7

I sat down on the bench on the veranda of the house by the beach. While I had sat by Irene’s bed, the sky had clouded over. Rain clouds? I felt a chill and fetched the musty blanket. Sitting here again, cold again, smelling the blanket again – it seemed that time was standing still and I was too.

No, Irene would not be living here, like this, if she had taken someone’s money. If she had ruined someone’s reputation, the newspapers hadn’t caught on, so it couldn’t have been anything too bad. And if she had taken a life, I would have read about that in the papers too. Or had she committed the perfect murder? Irene?