The Perfect Neighbours by Rachel Sargeant

Author:Rachel Sargeant
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008276737
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2017-10-27T04:00:00+00:00

31

Gisela Jakobsen lolled against the residents’ mailboxes in the foyer. She wasn’t sure it was her own apartment building but at this time of night she didn’t give a damn. Es ist mir völlig Wurscht. Ich will pennen (I want a kip). She sank to the floor ready to sleep. She thought of the angry man’s voice on the intercom as he let her in. Too tired to stand outside and fumble with her door key while a polar wind snatched at her backside, she’d pressed the buzzer to every apartment. The man who answered said he’d set his dog on her.

She hauled herself to her feet and put her hands out to stop the foyer from spinning. Wo wohne ich? She laughed out loud as she wondered where the hell she lived. She caught sight of a fern wreath on the door in the corner. It was a Christmas present from one of the neighbours. The Saviour’s birth. She hadn’t bothered to tell the silly woman they didn’t decorate anymore.

She staggered over to her front door. Purse, fags and other entrails fell out of her handbag when she unzipped it. Her head thumped as she squatted down to retrieve her bunch of keys. Scheiße, how was she supposed to know which stupid key to use? She’d sleep on it. She closed her eyes.

***

She came to with her face pressed against the Christmas wreath. She pulled away and rubbed her dimpled skin. How long had she blacked out for? She blinked hard, trying to kick-start her brain but she couldn’t remember how she’d got back to her flat. It was the second part of the evening that had gone missing.

She knew she’d been thrown out of Gasthaus Holtmühle because the landlord had called her besoffen (plastered). He ordered her a taxi to take her home but she told the driver to take her to another bar. She accused him of clocking up an extortionate fare so he pulled up outside a bar near the international school and ordered her out of his taxi. She screamed at him that she wasn’t drinking with no British lowlifes but he drove off. Had she gone into the bar? She had no memory of what the hell she did until she found herself drinking schnapps in Dortmannhausen Christmas market at midnight.

She selected a key at random and stabbed at the door lock. Verdammt, zu klein (too small). She switched to a bigger key but couldn’t get within five centimetres of the lock because of the tremor in her hand. She slid down to the floor. It was pointless knocking; Sascha wouldn’t hear her. She doubted he was even there. He’d set out about seven with a grim look on his face. It frightened her when he set his jaw like that, spoiling for a fight.

She found herself on her feet again. This time the key hit the target and the door let her in. She felt her way through the darkness to her bedroom. Ich muß mal (I need a wee).

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