A Spy in Exile

HAMBURG, APRIL 2015

The evening was surprisingly pleasant, the sky clear and filled with stars, which were reflected in the still waters of Alster Lake in the heart of the metropolis. Ya’ara and Matthias wandered aimlessly through the city’s magnificent streets. In less than an hour, the stores would close, the people would disperse to their homes, and quiet would fall over the large city. They stopped alongside the window of an elegant jewelry store. On display behind the armored glass were just a handful of spectacularly beautiful pieces of jewelry.

“Is there anything there that you like?”

Ya’ara peered intently through the glass. “Those earrings: I’ve never seen anything like them. But would I wear them? You have to be a princess to do that.” Ya’ara was looking at a pair of earrings adorned with rare rubies. Set into each earring was an oval ruby with lightly polished edges. The stones were deep red in color. And set alongside each ruby was a circular diamond, too. “Those are very high-quality stones,” Ya’ara said. “The color is perfect. It’s called pigeon blood. And they’re huge. I wonder what it feels like to wear earrings like those. True works of art.”

“Come,” Matthias said, “let’s see what they look like on you.”

They entered the store. An elegant middle-aged woman, with her long hair tied in a bun on the top of her head, greeted them with a pleasant expression.

“Good evening,” Ya’ara said. “We saw the ruby earrings in the window. They’re astonishing. May I try them on?”

The store assistant hesitated for just a moment. She knew she wasn’t going to sell the earrings to the young woman standing in front of her, but for some reason she wanted to see what they’d look like on such a beautiful creature. She could sense Ya’ara’s unique wildness under her icy façade.

The store assistant carefully removed the small velvet cushion with the earrings from the store window. Ya’ara held her light hair back, and the store assistant slipped the earrings into place. Ya’ara sat down and stared at her reflection in the small mirror that was standing on an antique wooden table. For a moment, she pictured herself living a completely different life. With earrings like the ones she had on, she could have been the daughter of a noble family, living on a magnificent estate, discreetly hidden from the watchful eyes of passersby. She could have been a northern princess.

“They’re spectacular, and you are breathtaking. The earrings suit you so well. You’re a very lucky man, sir,” the store assistant said to Matthias. “Hold on to her.”

“Could you tell us, please, how much they cost?”

The store assistant named a figure. The price left Matthias practically gasping for breath. “If you’re taking them out of the European Union, you’ll get a VAT refund,” the woman said.

Matthias pulled himself together. Ya’ara smiled at him and then turned to address the store assistant. “It’s a little out of our price range,” she said. “But thank you. They’re truly wonderful.”

With some regret, she removed the earrings and returned them to the store assistant. “You were very nice and generous, Mrs. . . .”

“Mrs. Zeidel. Stephanie Zeidel.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Zeidel. Stephanie. Perhaps a day will come when I return. You’ve made me happy. And I wish you a particularly good evening.”

Ya’ara hooked her arm around Matthias’s again and they went back out into the street. She appeared cloaked in uncharacteristic cheerfulness. “You were a real hero for not fainting when she named the price,” she said. “But I knew it would be something like that. I was required once to learn a little about the field of precious gemstones. And I knew those were particularly rare rubies. That color? It really is like blood. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to buy myself jewelry like that one day.”

“You’re an undercover princess, Ya’ara.”

“Come, let’s go eat. I’m leaving tomorrow and I feel like having some fun.”

Two weeks had gone by since Ya’ara called Matthias and asked if she could come to him. “I won’t disturb you,” she said. “You don’t have to make time for me. I simply need a little rest and I want to be with you. I can sleep on the sofa in the library room, okay? Tell me I can come.”

Matthias wasn’t sure. He felt very indebted to her, but he also had too many unanswered questions. And her presence always left him feeling shaken. She was smart and funny and beautiful, but she was also dangerous, unpredictable, and very young. He didn’t know what to do with her, how to behave toward her, and that lack of knowledge caused him embarrassment and discomfort. Moreover, his unfortunate adventure with Martina Müller was enough for him. “Matthias,” she repeated, hearing his silence. “Please.”

He consented, and he knew two weeks later that he had done the right thing. She brought color and freshness to his life. He continued working, and left the house while she was still asleep on the sofa. But there were mornings when she woke early and sat with him in the small kitchen, the two of them drinking their strong morning coffee in silence. There were nights when he’d come home late, and find her awake sometimes, reading a book or listening to music, her face lighting up on seeing him walk in, and together they’d drink a glass of whiskey or schnapps before going to bed, each in his or her own room. He admitted to himself that if she were to ask to come to his bed, he wouldn’t say no. But when she didn’t do so, his nights didn’t turn into long hours of painful longing. There was something calm and quiet about her presence, and he wondered where she hid all the aggression and violence he knew she had in her. He decided to give her what she wanted. Tranquility and a home and warm friendship.

On the last morning of her visit, she drove with him downtown, and he dropped her off at the central train station.

“Take care of yourself, Ya’ara, and keep in touch,” he said. “Don’t disappear.”

She asked him to get out of the car for a moment, too. “I want to hug you and I don’t need the gear lever poking into my ribs. I want to give you a tight squeeze,” she said.

“These were the best two weeks I’ve had in a long time, and I’ll be back, Matthias,” Ya’ara said as they stood there with their arms around each other. “I feel sometimes that you are my home.”

Matthias hoped that she wasn’t saying such things too lightly, irresponsibly.

“I don’t say things like that very casually,” she said, as if his thoughts were an open book to her. “I’ve never met any other man like you.”

We’ll see, he thought, and ran his hand through her soft hair. “You’re a princess even without those rubies. And seriously, look after yourself. Be careful. I want you to be my friend when I’m an old man, too.”

“I’ll always be your friend.”

She dragged her trolley suitcase behind her and walked into the huge station. He remained standing outside the car, its engine running, his gaze following her light head of hair.

• • •

Suddenly she saw her. A fair-haired woman, like herself, but a little older than she was. A little taller. She caught a fleeting glimpse of her face, just as she turned right toward the platforms, a calm and pretty face, with a large, strong nose, full lips, high cheekbones, and in her earlobes a pair of red earrings, stunningly beautiful and surprisingly familiar. And now she stood and watched as the woman walked ever farther away from her, a silk scarf in shades of orange and gold around her neck, the red glint in her ears. A thought flashed through her mind for a fraction of a second: It’s Tatiana. Her older sister. And then in her mind’s eye for a moment, the woman’s face took on the face of the young girl who was killed in London. But Ya’ara shook her head, brushing aside the childish face that lay in wait for her on the fringes of her consciousness.

The next moment she was sure it was Tatiana, just her. Her forever-missing sister, the gaping hole in Ya’ara’s chest, the real reason why she had never been able to love anyone, become attached to anyone. And then she closed her eyes, and the colors of the scarf, which were like a glowing stain on her retinas, turned into a black, all-absorbing surface. Enough already, enough, she berated herself, breathing the cold air into her lungs. It isn’t her, you can’t keep seeing her everywhere you go. When Ya’ara opened her eyes again, she could no longer locate the woman on the train platforms. They were crowded with people hurrying home. Once again, Tatiana Stein, her older sister, had become a ghost.