That was not the end of it for me, of course; later in the evening Herr Wachtmeister Tondorf called at the house and spent a long time going over what had happened during the procession. I was glad it was him and not the granite-faced policeman whose impassive gaze made me feel as though I were guilty of absolutely everything you could name.
Herr Wachtmeister Tondorf was his usual kindly self, but unimaginably meticulous; he went over everything again and again, asking questions in an unvaryingly gentle voice, until I was too tired to answer them properly. Why had I decided to walk with Frau Diederichs’s class? Had someone suggested it? How did I know Lena Schmitz? Did I know Julia Mahlberg? Had I noticed her at any time during the procession?
My mother put Sebastian to bed and then she came down and sat next to me, stony-faced, silently holding my hand. At half past ten she simply said, “Enough.” She got to her feet.
“Herr Wachtmeister Tondorf, Pia has to sleep.”
“Frau Kolvenbach-” He didn’t get any further.
“Don’t tell me it’s important. I know it’s important. But she’s only a child and she’s exhausted. Look.”
I tried to look alert, but I could barely keep my eyes open. “I’m not tired,” I started to say, and ruined it with a massive yawn. My eyelids felt as though they would slide shut under their own momentum like the roller shutters we had on our windows.
“She can’t possibly tell you anything else. You’ve asked her the same things at least twice, anyway.”
“Frau Kolvenbach,” began Herr Wachtmeister Tondorf doggedly, “I am sorry that your daughter is tired, but you must understand, the Mahlbergs have a daughter too. We must do everything possible to find her.”
“I know that,” snapped my mother. “So why don’t you get out onto the street and help look for her?”
At this piece of rudeness I was suddenly wide awake again. I was used to my mother’s occasional volcanic outbursts, but still I was stunned at her daring, telling the police their business. I looked at her; her face had a drawn-in look to it, with deep furrows between the brows and at the corners of the mouth. She looked suddenly older, witchlike.
Herr Wachtmeister Tondorf’s avuncular expression froze over in an instant. When he stood up, his movements were stiffly formal. “I will have to come again tomorrow,” he informed my mother coldly. She merely nodded, making no move to show him out. Herr Wachtmeister Tondorf looked at her for a moment, then picked up his cap and made his own way to the door, closing it softly behind him.
My mother took me upstairs in silence and helped me to get ready for bed. Her face still had that oddly puckered look, as though she was keeping something tightly under control. Still, she was gentle with me, brushing my teeth for me as I stood before her swaying a little with tiredness, and helping me into my nightdress. She even let me leave the bedside lamp in my room on, as though trying to keep off the night monsters that very small children fear. She sat by my bed for a while, and I think she was still there when I fell asleep.