Page 27 of Lost in Translation
Jürgen didn’t flinch. He took out his vape, twirling it around like a mini baton. ‘I will not use it here. The smell is a little strong, but the act of holding it is calming. Sometimes it is the simple things that give us peace when we are troubled.’
Charlotte smiled nervously. Lately, her troubled mind struggled to find any respite from the deluge of doubts and fears that prodded at her both waking and sleeping. Ruth had sent her a link to an online mindfulness course, but she hadn’t made it past the introductory session.
‘OK, why don’t you start? I don’t even know what you do for a living.’
Jürgen gave his vape another twirl. ‘Well, I was fortunate to make some money in personal hygiene products many years ago.’
Charlotte’s mouth twitched in amusement. ‘You mean toilet rolls?
‘Indeed. Not very glamorous, but one of life’s essentials. Nowadays I dabble in shares and do some consultancy work. It gives me the freedom to be around Marcus more and travel when I want to. Your husband, what does he do?’
Charlotte explained Dom’s accountancy background and recent promotion within Design For Life. ‘His current job is more of a managerial position, not that I know much about the business world. I worked as a medical receptionist for a while, which wasn’t exactly exciting.’
‘It sounds a very worthwhile job to me,’ said Jürgen. ‘Perhaps you can return to it one day when the boys are older?’
Charlotte shrugged. ‘Maybe. Dom preferred me being at home.’ She cringed inwardly, afraid Jürgen would think her a pathetic, downtrodden housewife with zero ambition. Which wasn’t a million miles from the truth. She’d given up her job and relied entirely on her husband financially, not to mention moving abroad against her wishes.
They remained silent for several minutes. Charlotte racked her brains for something else to talk about. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out: ‘Why don’t you tell me about your marriages?’Well, that was a sure-fire conversation killer.Charlotte stuffed another éclair in her mouth, mainly to stop herself from putting her foot any further into taboo territory.
‘If you would like to know, I am happy to talk.’ Jürgen’s direct gaze sent a shiver down Charlotte’s spine. It was as if he could see into her soul, beyond the protective layers hiding her inner turmoil. It unnerved and excited her, this contrast between Jürgen and Dom. With Dom, she had to scream and shout for him to notice anything amiss.
‘So, my first wife died almost twenty years ago, in an accident.’ Jürgen didn’t look away, but Charlotte lowered her eyes when she caught the flash of pain on his face.
‘I’m so sorry. She must have been very young.’
‘Twenty-five. We had only been married two years, and … she was expecting our first child.’
His voice was calm and measured, whereas Charlotte wasn’t sure she could trust herself to speak.
‘We met as teenagers and Greta was the love of my life. I know it is a cliché, but it is true. We fitted together in every way, and she supported me in the early days of my business when others mocked me and predicted failure. My success and my money is all down to Greta, but it has been hard to enjoy it without her by my side.’
‘How did… I mean, what happened?’ Charlotte’s curiosity overcame her desire to shut the conversation down. Jürgen wanted to talk, and for whatever reason, he wanted to talk to her.
‘She was hiking in the mountains with some friends. Greta loved to keep fit, even more so when she discovered she was pregnant. I had a bad feeling that day, I think you say a premonition? I asked her not to go, but she laughed and said the exercise would be good for her and the baby. Two hours later, I received a phone call. Greta had slipped on a shingly path and fell over the edge. Her friends reached her, but… she suffered severe head injuries. She, and the baby, died in hospital.’
‘I don’t know what to say, except sorry again.’ Charlotte reached out her hand and touched Jürgen’s.
He clutched her fingers for a moment, then released them. ‘There is no need to be sorry, Charlotte. Each year the pain grew a little less, but I had no interest in seeing other women. I threw myself into my work, expanding my business, and investing in stocks and shares. I became wealthy, but took no pleasure in my bank balance or those who wanted to help me spend it.’ Jürgen sighed. ‘Until my second wife came along.’
Charlotte ordered more coffees, and Jürgen described how he had met Monica at a charity fundraising concert he’d sponsored in Berlin. ‘She was — she is — a musician. A flautist, and a very talented one. She invited me for drinks one evening, and for once, I accepted. It’s hard to explain, but she seemed different. Or should I say,indifferentto my social standing.’
As they were now alone on the terrace, Charlotte urged Jürgen to use the vape he was fiddling with again. He took a long drag, exhaling a plume of peppermint which wasn’t unpleasant.
‘Anyway, we dated and after some months, I asked her to marry me. I wasn’t in love with her, nor she with me, but I realised I was lonely. And Monica was happy to accept, even although her job took her away for weeks at a time. I thought it was the best of two worlds; having a companion, but also space to do our own thing.’
Charlotte thought she knew where this was going, but kept quiet.
‘We had Marcus, which was a surprise as Monica believed she couldn’t have children, and she found it difficult to adjust to being a mother. I was over the moon, however, and became a stay-at-home father as she continued to travel the world.’ Jürgen took another puff, the minty scent shrouding Charlotte.
‘Marcus was only five when I discovered Monica had been playing with more than her flute. I went to one of her concerts in Geneva and saw her at the bar afterwards with the conductor. They weren’t touching, but the electricity between them was obvious. Sometimes it is not what people say or do, but what theythinkthey conceal that is most telling.’
Charlotte gulped. Jürgen could be describing her situation with Dom. For months he’d denied any wrongdoing, and she’d believed him. But at their party, hadn’t he and Amelie danced around each other? And as for Amelie’s parting comment … had that been a smoke screen?
‘She married the conductor, Aaron, and they live in Berlin. Marcus stays with them every few months, but his home is here, with me.’ Jürgen smiled and mimicked zipping his mouth. ‘Enough about my sad history. Let’s talk about cheerier things. The Montreux Jazz Festival, for example. Do you have tickets?’
Charlotte shook her head. She recalled the programme coming out in March, but hadn’t got around to buying anything.
‘Who’s playing?’ she asked, trying to remember the line-up.
