Broken Page 20

  He bowed his head again. He could no longer see a way out. He could barely imagine this day ending. From now on everything was up in the air and he could not handle it. Days needed to follow like pearls on a string, even, round and smooth. Safe, measured days that he had complete control of. Now he could only see as far as the bank.

  She got up. 'Come on,' she said, 'we're going.'

  He got up too. Went out into the hall and put on his coat. She slipped out before him. They'll see us, he thought, my downstairs neighbours, they'll see us walk down the road together, and they'll talk.

  God help me.

  There were no other customers in the bank.

  The cashier looked up at him with a welcoming smile. He asked to withdraw twenty thousand and even though it was his own money and even though he was going to give it away he felt greedy. He folded the notes and put them in his pocket. Signed for them and left. She was waiting outside. When he gave her the notes she crumpled. It was like watching butter melt in the sun.

  'Thank you,' she said and burst into tears. 'Thank you, thank you, thank you! You've taken such a load off my mind. Oh, you're so nice, so nice!'

  Again she gave him a big wet kiss on his cheek. Alvar felt her soft lips on his skin. He was so overcome by emotions that he had to look away. She stuffed the notes into the pocket of her grey jacket and started walking towards Bragernes Square. He followed her tiny figure with his eyes. Then it dawned on him that he no longer had enough money to buy the severed bridge. He also realised he might never see her again. That this was what she had been building towards the whole time. Settle her debt so she would be left in peace. He stood there for a while, wondering about himself and life's twists and turns. The strange direction his life had taken. A feeling of anxiety made his chest ache.

  CHAPTER 19

  He drags himself across my floor with heavy footsteps.

  'So,' I say, 'there you are.'

  'Yes,' he says, 'here I am. And you might get angry with me now. Because I keep interrupting you, but I can't help it.'

  He glances at the table. 'You're relaxing with a glass of wine, I see. Rather a large glass, I must say. It's practically a bowl.'

  He looks fraught. 'I'm up to my neck in problems. I've tried to escape, but it's gone too far.'

  I point towards the sofa, ask him to sit down.

  'You sound as if it's the end of the world,' I say. 'You've found yourself in unfamiliar territory and it frightens the living daylights out of you.'

  He rubs his tired face.

  'That's not to say there are no solutions,' I say, 'but you need to act. When you're in a situation involving another person, you need to take a stand. There's nothing wrong with listening, supporting and encouraging. But don't lose sight of your own interests. You've been swallowed up by her needs and her greed. She is walking all over you. You need to start asserting yourself. That doesn't mean you can't help her, but in my opinion you're entitled to make certain demands.'

  'Like what?' he asks quickly.

  'I think you should demand one hundred per cent honesty, for example.'

  He looks at me suspiciously. Raises his eyebrows.

  'Where are you going with this?'

  I look at him gravely.'She's told you her life story. Illness. Neglect, alcoholism, foster homes and violent drug dealers.'

  'Yes. It's just awful,' he says.

  'Indeed it is. If it's true.'

  He is startled. 'Is she lying?'

  'I don't know. What do you think? It strikes me that you take everything at face value. That she's a victim, that she never had a chance to become anything other than a heroin addict. You've had little experience of dealing with other people,' I continue. 'God knows you don't know much about human nature. If you did you might have questioned her in more detail and perhaps found out that she may not be who you think she is.'

  He braces himself as if hit by an icy wind.

  'What you're saying now doesn't exactly make me feel any better,' he says.

  'I understand that completely. But you've come to me with your questions and you have to accept what you're given. That was the deal we made, wasn't it?'

  He contemplates this for a long time. He rests his chin in the palm of his hand.

  'It all began so promisingly, I did everything right. She entered the gallery and she was freezing, I decided to do a good deed. In my heart of hearts I didn't think I had the right to throw her out into the cold. So I gave her a mug of coffee. And that coffee,' he agonises, 'was probably my first mistake.'

  He hugs himself. 'What kind of a world is this? Where good leads to bad? How are we meant to behave when there are no consequences, no logic or justice? And not only that. Imagine if I had indeed sent her packing the very first time I met her, then she would simply have gone somewhere else and another person would have made the same mistake. There is no solution to this, none at all. And what will this experience do to me? It'll mean that the little goodwill I still possess will just dissolve and evaporate. In the end, I'll just think of her the same way she already thinks of herself. A crooked human being, who's a pain and a burden to everyone.'

  I have to smile in response to his reasoning.

  'Do you think she's a crooked human being?'

  'No,' he says, 'are you mad? I don't think of people like that, never. But I'm having to deal with her and I'm getting really irritated. But only with myself, because I can't find a way out. Do I have to be lumbered with her now, I wonder, is there no way out of this mess?'

  'Alvar,' I say watching him, 'you won't find a way out of this mess until you open your ears and eyes.'

  'You mean I haven't?'

  I raise my glass and drink. 'No, you haven't. You're actually quite self-obsessed when you're with other people. You spend all your energy fretting about how you behave and how you come across, how important it is that you remain polite, and correct and nice. And that's why you miss what's really going on.'

  'You've lost me,' he whimpers. 'I've no idea what you're talking about.'

  I light a cigarette and blow the smoke towards the ceiling; I follow the blue column with my eyes, the smoke spirals under the lamp.

  'She stayed the night in your flat.'

  'Yes,' he nods. 'But only on my sofa. With a blanket.'

  'Did you check if anything was missing from your flat when you got up this morning?'

  Alvar looks sick.

  'Did she steal something? That's not possible, she's not like that, I'm certain of it. She wanted money and that's bad enough, but I've no cash lying around the place, only some change in a bowl in the kitchen. And let me add, given that you've brought up my boundless naivety, that I hid my wallet in my bedroom when I went to bed. I have no other valuables.'

  'We'll see,' I say. 'But I'll continue to argue that you're naive, even if you don't like it.'

  'That doesn't surprise me,' he says. 'But it's better than being a cynic. I've been standing outside your house for years, I've seen people go through a great deal.'

  I burst into a hearty laugh. 'I care about everyone who comes to my house,' I say, 'you all grip me in different ways. If I was indifferent to you there would be no story. And I certainly don't feel indifferent towards you, Alvar, I think about you night and day. I hope you'll cope, that you'll do the right things. I may not be able to promise you happiness, but I can promise you hope. Besides, you need to understand that once I've written the last page then you're on your own. With the tools I've given you.'

  'Tools?' he says, baffled. 'What tools have you given me?'

  'Of course I've given you tools. I'm trying to open your eyes, I'm trying to force you out into the real world, which you've never been a part of. You've been given a name, a job, a voice and I've placed you on a well-lit stage. If we're lucky you'll have an audience too and they will judge you mercilessly. But some might recognise themselves in you and be touched. Others might smile at your defensive and very cautious nature, some might get up and leave halfway through the sho
w. But you've been given something that many people will never have. The chance to show yourself and be seen.'

  'But I don't want an audience,' he protests.

  'Oh, of course you do. Even if you're not aware of it; you think of yourself as modest, and you can't even bear to entertain the idea. But we need other people, we need to mirror ourselves in them. Naturally there's a risk that we might run into individuals we don't want to meet, but that's part of the price we have to pay.'

  'Yes,' he says despondently, 'I'm paying, literally. Twenty thousand kroner, to be precise, left my account today.'

  'Because you were incapable of saying no.'

  'I didn't think I had the right.'

  'Who took that right away from you?'

  'I've never had it.'

  'Why were you never given it?'

  'I don't know. Who hands it out?'

  'Your parents,' I say. 'And after them your brothers and sisters and your friends.'

  'My parents were very stingy,' he says, 'and I've never had any friends to speak of.'

  'In other words,' I say, 'you need to get yourself some friends. They'll give you what you need.'

  He gives me a defeated look.'If you've intervened in order to help me establish a friendship with someone, why have you sent me a heroin addict who's spending all my money?'

  'I can understand that you feel used. This isn't what you wanted, you don't need this kind of person.'

  'Correct. I don't.'

  'But she needs you.'

  His grey eyes blink.

  'I need to look after the interests of everyone in the book,' I explain. 'You're only concerned with your own part. I'm responsible for the whole story, for everyone involved.'

  'But you're on my side, surely?' he asks anxiously.

  'That goes without saying,' I reply.

  He ponders this for a while, he narrows his eyes.

  'You're saying something has gone missing from my flat. That she's taken something. Are you going to tell me what it is?'

  I take another sip of my red wine, which is just the right temperature.

  'There's a time and a place for everything, Alvar. Think of this book as an equation. It all needs to add up in the end, that's the idea.'

  'And if it doesn't add up, what then?'

  'Then there'll be no story.'

  'But what about me and what you've started?'

  'I'll put you on ice. I put many ideas on ice. Four years ago full of enthusiasm I started a new book. It was about three inmates who absconded from Ila security prison. They escape in a van and drive to Finn forest, where they hide out in an old cabin.'

  'And then what happens?'

  'They're still there. I never managed to move them on.'

  He looks disgusted at this thought.

  'I'm leaving now,' he announces, 'so that you can finish your work!'

  He leaps up from the sofa and goes to the door. 'I just have one small favour to ask you,' he pleads. 'Please forgive me for mentioning this, I don't mean to interfere in your business, but I can't stop myself.'

  'No, you can't, can you?' I say. 'What is it?'

  'You need to get up early tomorrow morning; you've got work to do. So don't drink so much that you make yourself sick.'

  CHAPTER 20

  Ten long days passed before Lindys reappeared.

  At that point Alvar had started to relax and become his old self again. His shoulders were no longer hunched, his nerves had calmed down. What a fool he had been. He had been thinking this invasion would be permanent. Him, Alvar Eide. The loner. The oddball. Ultimately he was not a very interesting person, so she had probably found someone else to attach herself to, someone else she could fleece. He walked through the town with a spring in his step. He had finished work for the day. His life was once again his own, order and control ruled supreme. The snow melted, it trickled everywhere, people unbuttoned their coats and enjoyed the sun. He quickly popped into the Cash and Carry for some food before making his way up the hill to his flat. Outside he met Green who was emptying his letter box. Alvar nodded briefly, he didn't feel like talking. Green didn't say anything either, but he gave Alvar an odd look. Green's hand appeared holding a pile of junk mail whereupon he went to his own front door and vanished into his flat. Alvar felt a dart of something. What did that look signify? It was such a condescending look, as if his value as a human being had suddenly tumbled. He felt an instant, inexplicable sense of discomfort. He fumbled for the key in his pocket and stuck it in the lock. He tried turning it clockwise, but the key refused to budge. Now what was this? Had the lock caught? He tried again, this time with more force, but was at the same time scared of twisting the metal. Out of sheer frustration he turned the key anticlockwise. He heard a sharp click. What's this? he gasped. He turned the key clockwise again and there was another click. He turned the door handle and the door opened. The explanation revealed itself to him in its full horror. He had left his flat without locking his front door. He went into the hall with a strong sense of unease. He stopped and listened.

  'Hiya!' It came from the living room. He froze instantly.

  'I let the cat in,' he then heard. 'And afterwards I took a shower. You don't mind, do you?'

  Several seconds of silence followed. 'You don't mind, do you, Alvar?'

  He wanted to take a step forward, but he was paralysed. Finally he forced himself to move. She was lying on his sofa under a blanket. She propped herself up on her elbow, supporting her head in her hand.

  'You can stop staring at me,' she said, 'I'm not a ghost.'

  'But,' he struggled to find the words. 'But,' he said again and could manage nothing else.

  She sat up on the sofa and arranged the blanket across her lap.

  'I just needed some time out,' she explained. She reached for a mug on the coffee table. The kitten was asleep in an armchair. Alvar was speechless.

  'I've made myself a cup of tea,' she went on, drinking from the mug. She slurped the tea. 'Well, go on, sit down. I don't bite.'

  'But,' he said for the third time. He looked out into the kitchen, he stared out of the window, he did not understand a word of it.

  'You can relax,' she said drily, 'there's no one else, only me.'

  'Did I leave the door open?' he croaked.

  'No, why would you think that? You're not absent-minded, Alvar. I've got a key.'

  She picked up something from the coffee table. The metal gleamed in the light.

  He took a step closer to the sofa. He was indignant now because he could not understand how that had happened, he could think of no explanation.

  'But how did you get hold of that?' he finally managed to ask.

  'From the key cupboard in the hall,' she said lightly. 'Most people have more than one set. I took it the last time I was here. I thought I could let myself in and out. You don't mind, do you?'

  She peeked up at him with her ice-blue eyes.

  He finally collapsed into a chair. The kitten was purring. Lindys drank her tea. Alvar sat like a log, trying to compose himself. Her eye had healed, he noticed. The grey jacket she always wore lay in a heap under the coffee table. He closed his eyes. Unable to take in what had happened.