Mélanie Mercier, née Markowitz

Jean Michel Jakobowicz, ONU

The second message arrived when I least expected it.

I was going to collect Isabelle and Benjamin from their nanny’s. My bus was stuck in a traffic jam when my mobile phone rang. That was very unusual as nobody has my number other than Denise my secretary. By the time I found my mobile, the annoying ringing had stopped. A strange and elliptic SMS message had been left: “Children danger fire school! friend4231@hotmail.com”

It took a few seconds for me to begin to understand what I was reading. Then, as my brain was coming to grips with the whole message, my hands responded automatically. They frantically pressed the button to open the door of the bus. When nothing happened my legs propelled me to the front of the bus. In my panic I knocked into a young man wearing a black leather jacket. He mumbled something incomprehensible then went back to his reading. — “Open the door”, I said to the driver. “Open the door, it’s a matter of life and death”. The lady stared at me. I must have had such a terrified look about me that she immediately opened the door without uttering a word.

I started to run like crazy. I was instinctively running towards the school. It was about ten minutes on foot but I was in such a panic that it took me less than five minutes to get there.

Two hundred meters away from the school, on the route de Malagnou, I saw four fire engines parked on the pavement. A shiver ran down my spine. I ran flat out. What had happened to my kids?

In front of the school the first person I saw was Mr. Schmid, the Head. I rushed towards him and attempted to ask him what had happened to Benjamin and Isabelle. I was so out of breath that I didn’t manage to utter a single word.

“Don’t worry” Mr. Schmid said, “everything is OK. Just a small fire, which started in the attic. The firemen say that it’s due to a short- circuit. Luckily the kids had left quite a while before it happened”. Without further ado he went back to speak to the Chief Fireman who was filling in a wad of papers.

I was shaking all over, probably because of all that physical effort but possibly also due to fear. I felt totally drained.

When I arrived at the nanny’s house, she looked at me anxiously: — “Are you OK?” she asked — “Well yes, I guess so. That business with the fire in the school has churned my stomach up” — “What fire?” my daughter Isabelle asked — “The one that started at your school. Don’t you know about it?” I said.
— “Great !” Benjamin replied. “School’s burned down! We won’t need to go to school tomorrow!” When he saw my look of outrage he added: “Have lots of people died?” — “No, nothing serious, just a small fire in the attic”.
— “So why are you so pale?” asked Isabelle — “I was scared that something might have happened to you”.

Before going to bed my two little darlings came for a cuddle. Their small bodies felt so warm next to mine and so fragile that I became even more anxious. I was so scared that something could happen to them. A deep- seated fear close to total panic rose through me. When the children were finally tucked away in bed, I started to cry like I hadn’t done for a long time.

It was all too much. I couldn’t cope with all that had happened in the last few days – the messages, the fires, the threats against my kids. And to make matters worse I had to cope with it all on my own.

I didn’t know what to do. Call Jerome, my ex-husband, and hear him say that he would handle everything ? Call the police ? My mother? A colleague? David, my colleague? After all, why not David, my I.T. colleague, with whom I went to lunch almost every day? David knows me sufficiently well to believe me and take me seriously.

Without even looking at my watch I dialed his number.
— “Hi! It’s me”, I said. — “Who’s me”? asked a sleepy voice. — “Me, Melanie Markowitz”. I don’t know why I used my maiden name, but it was the first one that came to my mind. — “Mélanie! At this time of night! Well that’s a surprise or I must be dreaming!” — “No it’s me Melanie”, and without waiting for him to add another word, I told him my whole story, from the first message up to the school fire.

His reaction was immediate. — “Don’t move I’ll be there in a few minutes”.

His words, far from reassuring me, had the opposite effect; they added to my panic. I felt overwhelmed not only by the threatening messages but also by this half stranger who was going to come to my home and… I felt totally unable to accept his offer. — “No, don’t bother. It can wait until tomorrow morning”. David hesitated for a moment and then he finally said in a very kind voice: — “As you wish! But please don’t think twice about calling if you need me”.

I spent a dreadful night. All my muscles were tense. I sat up, totally stiff, in an armchair in the living room, with cramps of fear attacking my stomach in a way I had never known before. Unable to think, I was a mere ball of nerves ready to explode.

The following day I woke up in my bed. I don’t remember how I had got there. My body was painful all over but my brain was unexpectedly clear. I had to make a decision, which now seemed absolutely obvious – I had to make sure that my kids were safe! After that I would see what else I had to do. I called my mother to see if I could send them to her. The Easter break was two days away, it wouldn’t matter if they missed school for a few days. — “You’re hiding something”, was the first thing my mother said to me. — “No Mum! I have a lot of work and no time to take any leave. And as you’ve been asking to have the kids for a while, I thought it was a good opportunity”. There was a long silence after the end of my sentence. — “Mum are you there?” I asked with a lump in my throat.
— “Yes, I was just thinking”, she answered. — “It’s OK then? Dad can come to Geneva tomorrow and I’ll collect the kids in Paris at the end of their vacation. Another silence. — “Yes, OK”, she finally said, almost reluctantly. “But I can’t help feeling there’s something wrong here”. — “But Mum, I told you…” — “OK, I ‘ll speak to your father and I’ll call you back”.

My problem is that even under normal circumstances I am a bad at liar, but when I have to lie to my mother I’m even worse at it. I didn’t know how long I would be able to hide the truth from her.

When I arrived in my office, David Garrido was sitting in my chair. — “What are you doing here?” I asked him, exhausted.
— “I was just passing by to see whether I could be useful”. — “No thanks David, not for the time being. I need to think things over”. — “No problem” he said, leaving the room. “By the way”, he added just like Inspector Columbo, the Master of the false exits, “I found this”.

He handed me a small piece of paper. It was the transcript of the first message that had disappeared from my electronic mail box. — “How did you get this message?” I asked, suddenly worried.
— “It doesn’t matter. When you want we can discuss it”.

My day dragged on and on. I tried to call David on several occasions but I only got his voice mail. I was exhausted. That night I went home like a zombie.

By nine o’clock I was in bed, shivering with cold. At eleven the phone rang. It was David. — “Sorry to wake you up in the middle of the night, but I think I have something new”. And before I had time to ask him anything he added:
— “When’s your father arriving ?”