Read Online Someday We'll Tell Each Other Everything by Daniela Krien, Jamie Bulloch - Free Book Online Page A

who had survivedthe war in spite of a few frostbitten toes and large amounts of shrapnel. He was twenty-nine, she, thirty-one. The two other brothers at the farm had died in the war.
    Henner was born in 1950. Nobody had imagined they would ever have a child. During her pregnancy, Helene acquired a great number of books and, to the consternation of the Henner family, spent her days reading. Later she disappeared completely into her books and her schnapps, and never surfaced again.
    Henner lays his head in my lap with a sigh, and I cover it with my dress. Then he starts to cry. Yes, he cries, and his tears wet my bare legs, which are still trembling. It was the only time I ever saw him like this, and never again. Love made him soft.

8
    Back home at the Brendels’ farm, Marianne is there to meet me. “That was a long ride,” she says. As I walk past her she suddenly leans into me and takes a sniff. I’ll never forget how her nose practically brushes my neck. When she looks up at me I hold my breath, regretting not having washed off Henner’s scent. Suddenly she smiles and says, “You smell like a stable! Go and have a quick shower before supper.” I nod silently. This time I’ve gotten away with it.
    Hartmut’s definitely taken some color. He got up early with Siegfried and helped him with the day’s work. His cheeks are red and he swallows down his food greedily. Gisela keeps glancing over at him, but doesn’t say anything. The children are winding Lukas upand talking incessantly. We’re not used to such chitter-chatter at the table. Alfred’s eyes scan the room grumpily, then his gaze rests on me. I stare into my wineglass, sweating.
    Out of the blue, Hartmut asks whether we are going to take a look at our Stasi files when the time comes, if they haven’t all been destroyed by then. Siegfried laughs and says he doesn’t need to; he already knows what’s in his and who supplied the information. Then he turns to me and says, “The only one around this table who has an unblemished record—if she has one at all—is Maria.” That comment made me want to fling my supper in his face. I mean, I was at the first demonstration in P., chanting “We are the people!” along with the rest of them. Okay, I admit we weren’t there just because of the demonstration; our plan was to go to the ice cream parlor afterward, my friend Katja and I. But Siegfried doesn’t stop his teasing. “Maria,” he says with a grave expression, his arms crossed, “went to Pioneer Camp. Top marks for your file, that. It’s where they groomed our future elite. Isn’t that right, Maria?” I’m close to tears. What does he know about Pioneer Camp? Gisela looks nonplussed, so I have to explain, keeping an eye on Siegfried the whole time. He does actually shut up, and by the end he’s even turned a little pale.
    I was twelve, top of the class, and deputy chair of the friendship council at Erich Weinert Secondary School in R. One day Mom and I were called in to see the headmistress. She told us that I had been chosen from our district to go to the Wilhelm Pieck Pioneer Camp. For six weeks. In schooltime. It was an honor you didn’t turn down. And so, in February 1986, I went by train to Berlin with lots of other children from various districts and a group of Pioneer leaders. From there we were bused to the camp on the shore of Lake Werbellin. The first day was a disaster. I didn’t have a Pioneer’s cap, I used a Scout’s knot to tie the red neckerchief rather than a Pioneer one, and I didn’t have a badge on the arm of my white blouse. I’d never had a blouse with the badge. My mother always let me wear cardigans on top andnobody had minded. At the first major flag parade I had to stand at one end of the back row, then in the middle of the square formation, where I was reprimanded for showing insufficient respect for the Pioneer organization, and by extension the German Democratic Republic. Later I was called into the office of the