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SECTION 2
THE DARK TRIAD WOMAN
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It is a miserable November day, when I meet Martha’s parents for the first time. We travel with the child to Pinneberg, where Martha’s parents live. At the time I have a limousine of the type Mercedes 450 SE an upper class Sedan. We park the car directly in front of the building, an ugly multi story terraced house in a side street immediately after the exit from the autobahn. We go up the steep, narrow stairway to the third floor. There is no lift. We ring the bell. A short stocky woman with jet black hair opens the door, behind her is standing a tall corpulent man with a complete mane of grey hair, combed back and greased. The woman welcomes me effusively:
“At last I’m meeting the business man from Hamburg, the father of my granddaughter.”
She says that in a tone that suggests her daughter had finally brought home the right piece of loot.
“This here is my husband - he’s an artist - at least that’s what he thinks.”
Nice introduction. (Later I will find out he plays in the local Police Orchestra and had previously had gigs on cruisers)
"And my daughter you already know - ha ha ha – intimately, I mean, as one sees in the sweet little thing. What’s she like, does she behave?”
What does she really mean, I think to myself.
“I understand you earn a lot of money.”
Blah, blah, blah,... I think, overwhelmed by the ceaseless torrent of words. The evening begins with a meal and ends in violence. The grandparents join us for dinner. The grandfather is a rotund chap who has little to say and is constantly put in his place, she - the grandmother - a tall woman of about eighty with long grey hair down to the hips - not appropriate for her age. She’s a gypsy, what else, I think for myself. Later I am being shown photos of her as a dancer, somewhere in Crimea. One is a strange photo, more like a postcard, a woman with decorative flowers in her hair, in flapper clothing, the body turned sideways. Standing coquettishly on high heels. It is hard to establish a link with the present, with the woman sitting at the table. The grandmother is called Clara.
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