Authors: Petra Hammesfahr
Margret often said I'd gone my own way in spite of everything.
It may have looked like that to her, but it wasn't my "way", it was
my test track. I sinned deliberately to see what would happen. I
gambled with Magdalena's life as if death were merely a ball to be
tossed from hand to hand. Thrill-seeking - that's what it was for a
while. Later it became a habit.
It started with little things. With the dream about the wolf, which
made me wet my bed. I never stopped hoping the wolf would
reappear because he liberated me, at least for the space of a night.
And he continued to reappear for almost a year, nearly every night.
Or I'd sneak over to Grit's in the afternoon, beg a sweet or a slice
of cake and hastily devour it. I inspected Magdalena every time
I came home, and every time her condition was unchanged. So
minor sins couldn't kill her.
Not that I wanted to kill her, honestly not. She was a great burden
to me. She compelled me to lead a life I had no wish to lead. But
after that episode with the handkerchief and the Saviour's wet feet
I often wished I could do more for her than talk to her or read her
Bible stories.
I think I'd begun to love my sister, yet I still cadged sweets from
Grit ... Perhaps I simply wanted to prove to myself that I could
sin like mad without affecting Magdalena's state of health. If little
demons eventually ripped the flesh from my body with red-hot
pincers, that was my problem, not hers.
And then, in the street one day, I found a one-mark coin. I was
eleven and already going to secondary school, but I'd never had
any money of my own. The other girls in my class got something
from their parents every Sunday, and on Mondays after school they
went to a little shop and bought themselves wine gums or ice lollies.
They used to tease me for never being able to go to the shop with
them.
I caught sight of the coin lying there while I was on my way
to school that morning. I knew I was allowed to pick it up but
ought to hand it in. Instead, I pocketed it. During break I left the
playground, which was forbidden, and went to the shop to buy
myself an ice lolly. And when the teacher asked where I'd been I
said I'd had to order some candles for my mother. Taken together,
I thought, that must surely amount to a mortal sin.
I dawdled on the way home for lunch, feeling terribly apprehensive. Magdalena hadn't been at all well that morning, and I...
Oh, I don't know Although I was eleven by then, and although
I didn't want to believe what several people had told me - that
Mother wasn't right in the head - I did still believe it - somehow
Beliefs like that are deep-rooted, impossible to prove or disprove.
You can't do much about them; you can only try. Many people
think they'll be dogged by misfortune if they walk under a ladder
or come to grief if a black cat crosses their path. They contrive
never to walk under a ladder and turn tail if they see a black cat.
But I wanted to find out.
Instead of ringing the doorbell, as I used to when I was younger,
I went around to the kitchen. I could hear Mother singing before
I reached the door.
`Almighty God, we praise Thee. Lord, we extol Thy might. The
earth boweth down before Thee and marveleth at Thy works. As
Thou wert in the beginning, so shalt Thou remain for all eternity. All that can extol Thee, cherubim and seraphim, sing Thy praises.
All the angels that serve Thee cry: `Holy, holy, holy. . .-
If Mother was singing that song, all had to be well. And it was.
I walked into the kitchen to find Magdalena sitting in an armchair
with the little bed-table across her knees, spooning up chicken broth
- unaided. She winked at me, meaning get a load of what happens
next. She was much better than she had been that morning.
"I'm going to be bored stiff in heaven," she said. "I mean, singing
`Holy, holy, holy' all day long."
She was so well, she could afford to needle Mother a little. She
enjoyed doing so because Mother often needled her. Magdalena
wasn't a gentle child by nature. She couldn't do much when she was
little. She could do equally little when she became older, but she
could use her tongue. And Mother was staggered or shocked every
time, perhaps because she couldn't shoo Magdalena into the living
room whenever she poked fun at her opinions or at the Saviour
himself, not in her condition. "Blasphemy" was Mother's verdict on
such remarks, and that was another very grave sin.
"No more singing, please," Magdalena insisted. "It'll spoil my
appetite. If that's all I'm allowed to sing up there, I'd at least prefer
to hear something else while I'm still down here. Cora must tell me
something about school."
As time went by, my telling her about school had developed from
our wishing game into a substitute for television. Things often
happened at school. Sometimes kids got into fights. Sometimes one
of the bigger boys would be caught smoking. On one occasion a girl
locked herself up in the toilet and swallowed some tablets. Later, an
ambulance turned up. Magdalena found it exciting when I told her
things like that.
That was her life. She seldom left the house except to visit the
hospital with Mother every three months. One couldn't go for a
walk with her in town, and at her age she was too ashamed to be
taken out in the pram.
Father had offered to buy her a wheelchair, but she wouldn't have
it. "I don't want him spending a pfennig on me," she told me, "not a
man who tosses himself off three times a day because he made me."
Father wasn't as bad as she thought, and I often told her so. I'd
also offered to push her in the wheelchair, but Mother was against
it. Something might happen to Magdalena while we were out, she
said, and I wouldn't know what to do.
I really wanted to do something nice for her. At eleven I felt
the urge to do so almost daily, but I could only tell her what had
happened at school. If it was nothing special, I made something
up. She didn't know the difference.
That day I could have told her about the one-mark coin - she
wouldn't have given me away - but we were still in the kitchen with
Mother. So I told her a made-up story, while Mother cleared the
table and did the washing up. Magdalena was exhausted by the
time Mother had finished. Mother took her upstairs to rest, but she
was downstairs again by late afternoon, when Father came home.
The next day I sinned again, only worse. Before going to school I
took some money from Mother's purse: two one-mark coins. I left the
playground again during break, but this time I asked the teacher's
permission. Could I go and see if the candles had been delivered
yet? "Of course, Cora," the teacher said. "Go by all means."
So I went to the shop and bought myself an ice cream and a bar
of chocolate. The ice I ate at once, the chocolate I hid in my jacket
pocket. At lunchtime I took it into our barn and concealed it under
some old potato sacks in the far corner.
My heart was pounding as I neared the kitchen door, but
before I opened it I heard Magdalena talking. She was seated in
the armchair, as before, with a plateful of mashed potato and a
soft-boiled egg in front of her. She was fine. After she'd rested
for an hour and I'd prayed and done my homework, she insisted
on playing with me. Not "I spy with my little eye" or the wishing
game, but a proper game.
Mother sent me to borrow Snakes and Ladders from Grit Adigar.
Before returning to the kitchen with the cardboard box under my
arm I hurried into the barn and broke off a square of chocolate. I
let it dissolve slowly on my tongue. Mother would have noticed if
I'd chewed it.
Magdalena watched me as I unfolded the board and put the dice in the cup. She saw I had something in my mouth but said nothing.
Later, when Mother had gone out, she said: "What were you eating
just now?"
"Chocolate."
Magdalena thought I'd got it from Grit. "Will you bring me a
piece when you take the game back? But make sure there's some
silver paper around it. You must slip it under my pillow and I'll
eat it when Mother has put me to bed. I'll make sure she doesn't
catch me."
Mother didn't want her eating sweet things, although she
didn't invoke the Saviour, as she did in my case, but the dentist.
Magdalena's teeth were a major problem: they were too soft. Once,
in the hospital, they'd had to extract a molar that had developed
a hole. This entailed giving her an injection, and Magdalena had
reacted badly to it. The doctors had told Mother it must never
happen again; that's why she was such a stickler for brushing
Magdalena's teeth.
I knew this, and I also knew you shouldn't eat anything sweet
after brushing your teeth because they'd get holes in them. To put
it bluntly, I knew I would harm Magdalena, genuinely harm her,
if I put a piece of chocolate under her pillow. But I nodded just
the same.
Magdalena picked up the dice cup. "Let's play, then. Don't go
easy on me, Cora, I'm a good loser."
Don't go easy on me, Cora . . . I can still hear her saying that.
It became my motto in life. I gave up going easy on anything or
anyone. I lied to the teacher and the other children at school, even
to my father. I stole anything I could. At least twice a week I took
money from Mother's purse. I bought sweets, hid them in the barn
and helped myself to them whenever I felt like it. Whenever I got a
chance I would bring some into the house for Magdalena and put
them under her pillow When my supplies ran out I simply stole
some more money.
At first I was afraid the people in the shop would say something to
Mother, who also shopped there. My sudden prosperity must have
surprised them. To guard against all eventualities I told them that
my Aunt Margret had sent me some money in a letter, and she'd
written that I mustn't tell Mother or she'd take it away and spend
it on candles or roses. The woman behind the counter smiled and
said: "I won't breathe a word."
That was when I grasped what it meant to have money. Everyone
was suddenly nice to me - everyone who had previously teased or
ignored me. By the time I was twelve I was robbing Mother of at
least three marks a week, and at that stage I was already getting a
regular sum of pocket money from Father.
I sometimes wondered why Mother didn't miss the money. I don't
know if she'd grown neglectful as time went by, or if I'd convinced
her that I was the most devout and docile child on earth. Perhaps I
had. I never argued, no matter what rubbish she spouted. I helped
with the housework, washed up the dishes unasked and dusted the
rooms or brought in washing from the clothes line, leaving her free
to look after my sister. I did those things whenever my conscience
pricked me, which it often did because I had everything and could
seldom pass any of it on to Magdalena.
I went without my supper whenever I couldn't get a mouthful
down after gorging myself on too many sweets in the afternoon.
"I discovered a sinful desire in my heart at lunchtime today," I told
Mother. "Now I want to atone for it." She was naturally delighted
by such discernment.
I was always eager to do the shopping. "Leave it to me, Mother,"
I used to say. "I'm young and strong. Carrying heavy shopping
bags doesn't worry me, and you need all your strength for
Magdalena."
I would also tell her I'd sooner shop at the supermarket because everything was cheaper there, and "shopkeepers mustn't be
encouraged to line their pockets". Mother said I was a great help
and had learned a great deal from our Saviour. Sometimes she
even said she was proud of me.
When I told Magdalena how I'd put one over on Mother, she would say: "That's right, fool her whenever you can. Stupidity
deserves to be punished."
Magdalena thought I walked all the way to the supermarket just
so I could tell her if anything of interest was happening in town. I
never told her the real reason: for one thing, it was easier to pinch
things there; for another, Woolworths was nearby.