At night she slept on Jonathan’s side of the bed. She had appropriated his side, the one by the window. It took her a longtime until she was ready to pat from the bedding he slept on before he died; she derived much consolation from the faint scent of his body, distant yet unforgettable, that emanated from the mattress, the blanket, and the pillows.
Tonight she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Uzzi’s face floated in front of her—his horse-like face, grinning slyly. She hated him and wanted to wreak vengeance upon him. Jonathan’s death and the events that surrounded it had confronted her with her own true self and, perhaps, had altogether remolded and redefined her character. She became tougher. However, when she conjured up Hanny’s slim, tender figure, so childlike, she felt tears choking g in her throat. How could Hanny betray her like this, her, Greta and Jonathan’s memory?
Dim lights from the garden lamp penetrated the bedroom, flickering wanly, then clustering around a dark figure sitting in the armchair. Talia heard his voice, “Do what I have done, Talin. Immediately call a meeting of the board and denounce him. But first you must prepare for that meeting. Write each member a nice letter, as you know how. Make sure there are people there who support you. Shlomo Tamir, for example, and our neighbor, the Orthodox member of Knesset. They will all come, don’t worry. They think that you are still the shareholder. Use the element of surprise to your advantage.”
“But what shall I do then?”
“Denounce Uzzi. Reveal everything about him, spill the beans, incriminate him, Talin. You’ll do this for my sake, won’t you?”