by Karin Fossum
“So you don’t know much about her private life?” Sejer pressed. “Nothing at all?”
“Not a lot. She had a small house in Blåkollen, where she lived with her son, Simon. There was no man in the house because the boy’s father had left them; so she brought Simon up on her own. He had a place at daycare. It was just the two of them. She talked about Simon all the time and I know that she hated having to drop him off every morning. It’s a hard way to start the day, if only people knew.”
“How long had she been doing this job?” Skarre asked.
“For more than eight years. When Simon was born, he went to a council babysitter to begin with. But I’ll tell you this, and it’s important: not many people last as long in this job, so it speaks volumes about Bonnie—the fact that she stuck with it.”
“And presumably she didn’t have the same clients all the time?”
“No, it changes all the time. Some die, some get places in homes. She had a total of ten clients. That’s two a day, so she was packing a lot into a day’s work. It’s a terrible thing to say, but I’ll say it all the same—a lot of our clients are very demanding or difficult in other ways. Home health aides aren’t always made welcome. I feel so bad,” she said, all of a sudden. She closed her eyes.
After a short pause, Sejer had to prompt her. “Why do you feel bad?”
“Well, like I said, many of them are extremely difficult. So the truth is that a lot of the home health aides come to me and say, I refuse to go to Erna, or I refuse to go to Ingemar; I can’t bear being in that house. Which puts me in a terrible dilemma. On the one hand, they’ve been offered help from home care services, and in that sense, the home health aides are duty-bound to go to the addresses they are given. I’ve worked as a home health aide myself, and I know how it feels having to go to a client you don’t like. Many of them don’t want any help—it’s their family who insist on it because they need someone else to take responsibility. A difficult and ungrateful client is like a knot in your stomach; you dread it all week. Some of the old people call their home health aides at home to nag them. Bonnie was always the solution. It wasn’t in her nature to protest. She did what she had to do. In other words, she ended up with all the difficult clients. And not only did she go to them, but she also did an excellent job and never complained. I think she was actually quite fond of them, in her own patient way. And she has barely taken a sick day in all these years. A lot of our employees are off sick; they get bad backs. And then everything has to be rearranged, and others have to take on their clients. And again, it was Bonnie I turned to. How could I have done that to her?”
“Do her clients know what’s happened?”
“Well, of course some of them know—certainly those who are able to understand,” Ragnhild said. “We’ve spoken to all the families and left it up to them to tell their relatives in the best possible way.”
“I would appreciate a list of all the people she went to,” Sejer said.
“Do you want to talk to them?”
“Yes. Don’t you think we owe it to them? It might even be their right. We’ll be gentle,” he promised.
Ragnhild’s fingers tapped on the keyboard and she soon found a list of Bonnie’s clients and their addresses. The printer hummed.
“Do you think any of them will come to the funeral?”
She nodded. “I should think so, but not all of them. They’re close to death themselves. It’s only a matter of time; it could happen at any moment. In bed or in the bathroom. Goodness knows what it’s like to be at that stage.”
13
December 2004
BRITT ARRIVED IN Blåkollen at eight o’clock, after Bonnie had put Simon to bed. He was in his own room that evening. But he hadn’t gone to sleep; he lay awake listening. Not many people came to the house, only Britt and Granny Henny. He only saw Grandpa Henrik occasionally, as he generally didn’t come.
He heard voices out in the hall, and then later they went into the kitchen. The door was ajar and he saw shadows.
“I’ve been Christmas shopping,” he heard Britt say. “The little one is for you and the big one is for Simon.”
Simon’s heart beat faster. It wasn’t long until Christmas now, but time passed so slowly. The four of them always spent Christmas together. Grandpa would sit silently in his chair. He never took part in the conversation, but he ate with a healthy appetite.
“My, you smell good,” Britt said.
“Chanel Number 5,” Bonnie said. “I got it from Erna.”
“Well, it’s nice that one of them appreciates you,” Britt replied. “You certainly deserve it.”
Then Simon heard footsteps, and the door was slowly opened a little wider. The light from the kitchen extended across the floor.
“Are you asleep?” Britt whispered.
Simon sat up in bed. He was full of the knowledge that she had a Christmas present for him. And she had said that it was big.
“Can I get a hug?”
He didn’t answer but remained sitting upright, and she crossed the floor without a sound in her stockinged feet. She bent down over the bed and gave him a hug.
“Be nice to Mommy,” she ordered in a kind voice. “No fuss when you go to daycare, because if you don’t go to daycare, then Mommy can’t work, and then you’ll have no money. And without money, there won’t be any Christmas.”
He nodded.
“Now go to sleep,” she said and went back out to Bonnie. She had put a Tupperware dish with stew in it on the countertop. Standing beside it was a bottle of good red wine. It brought tears to Bonnie’s eyes. Britt thought of everything; she meant so much to her. And she was so busy herself, with a husband and three children, and a full-time job with the air ambulance.
They went into the living room while the food was heating, and Bonnie set the table. Britt noticed the plants arranged in a circle around the wild animals on the floor.
“You’re getting thinner,” Britt said, when they started to eat.
“I’ve always been thin,” Bonnie retorted.
“Not as thin as now—there’s nothing left of you.”
They ate for a while in silence. Britt filled Bonnie’s glass as soon as it was empty. She only had one herself since she had to drive home.
“Tell me about the last job,” Bonnie said. “Was it dramatic?”
“It certainly was, but they always are. We had to pick up someone with burn injuries from Ringstad. A man, fifty-something; it was bad. Third-degree burns all over his body as a result of an explosion in his garage. He was conscious when we carried him out to the helicopter. He even had the strength to make a joke. I sat beside him on the way to the burn unit at Haukeland Hospital. The doctors can fix pretty much anything, he said, and put on a brave face. And I had to humor him and pretend nothing was wrong. I knew that he wouldn’t survive with all those burns.”
“What?” Bonnie said, horrified. “Is he dead?”
“He only lived for a few hours. Left behind a wife, four children, and three grandchildren. There’s something about men, they’re always a bit lax when it comes to safety. We see it all the time at New Year’s with the fireworks—always a few fingers lost.”
She topped up Bonnie’s glass. “Now, what about you? How much time are you getting off at Christmas?”
“Fourteen days,” Bonnie said happily. “Heaven! How about you?”
“I’m going to work. It doesn’t bother me, though. Jens will sort everything out at home.”
“You’re so strong.”
“Yes,” Britt said, “I am, but so are you. And I know you hate it when I say this, but I think you should find yourself a man. Simon needs a father figure; all boys do.”
“So you think I should go out on the town, then?” Bonnie said. “And who’s going to look after Simon when I’m out there flirting?”
Britt had to smile. “Don’t be silly, we’ve got the Internet now. Everyone seems to find their partners that way these days. There’s no shame in it.”
“That’s not what I mean; I just haven’t had a good experience. Remember?”
“Not everyone is like Olav,” Britt said. “Maybe it’s time you got over him. I’m sorry for saying it, but there are good men out there. I found one.”
“I know,” Bonnie assured her. “You’re lucky. You haven’t been through what I have.”
She got up and cleared the table and put on some coffee. Then they sat on the sofa and chatted until midnight. There was a thin layer of fresh snow on the red Volvo when she followed Britt out to the car.
“Call me if there’s anything,” Britt urged and gave her a hug. “I can look after Simon if you want to go out and flirt.”
“You’ve got three of your own. It would be better to avail of my mother.”
“Remember what I said,” Britt insisted. “I’ve got a husband, and when I ask him to, he looks after the children. Because he always does what I say.”
Bonnie tiptoed into the bedroom and switched off the light. Simon was sleeping deeply and had kicked off the comforter. She pulled it over him gently and then started to think about tomorrow. The wine had made her sleepy. Christmas soon. She had to do everything she could to make those days as special as possible. Simon was so excited about it he could hardly sit still. And she hoped there wouldn’t be too much snow, because then she would have to clear it, which was heavy work. Her back ached enough as it was from all the cleaning. She got into her own bed, turned toward the wall, and fell asleep, her worries running out like sand in an hourglass.
Simon was standing there, pulling at her comforter. It surprised her, since she was always the first one up. But the wine had made her heavy and tired. Simon buried his nose in her neck and smelled the lovely perfume from the night before. He was excited because he had been in the kitchen and the two presents were lying side by side on the countertop. There was also a big Tupperware dish that he hadn’t seen before. Bonnie threw the comforter to the side and got up. She went into the bathroom to get dressed. Simon stood in the doorway and waited. When she was ready, they went into the kitchen. She spotted the two presents that she had forgotten to hide. She gave Simon a stern look.
“You haven’t touched them, have you?” she asked, pretending to be strict.
“Just a little bit,” Simon mumbled guiltily. “They’re very hard.”
Bonnie had to laugh. She gave the little one a squeeze; it was a box. Then she climbed up on a chair and hid the presents away on the top shelf where Simon couldn’t reach them.
“What’s in the Tupperware?” he asked, pointing.
“Some food that Britt brought. There’s plenty left, so you’ll get it for supper. It’s good.”
She made him some porridge, as she always did, and he was strangely calm. Not as reluctant as he normally was when he was going to daycare. He remembered what Britt had said, that without money there would be no Christmas. He sprinkled sugar on his porridge. His fair hair was getting long at the neck. She should really take him to the hairdresser, Bonnie thought. But he had such lovely hair that maybe it should be left to grow. Her mother thought differently. She said it made him look like a girl.
“What are you and Märta going to do today, then?” she asked in an enthusiastic voice to bolster the boy’s mood, which was such an improvement from normal.
“Märta’s gone to the Canaries,” he said, his mouth full of porridge. “They’re swimming.”
“Is that Gran Canaria?” Bonnie asked. “I’m sure it’s nice there.”
“Can we go sometime?”
“Maybe. When we can afford it. It costs a lot of money to go there.” She felt a pang in her heart when she thought of all the things she would never be able to give him.
They put on their coats and went out into the snow, which had obviously fallen heavily overnight. The sight of the drifts by the driveway made her anxious. She strapped Simon into the back seat and brushed the snow off the roof of the car. Then she got in and started the engine. Just as she feared, the wheels spun and went nowhere. Three times she pressed the accelerator, but the car just sank deeper into the snow. She put her forehead to the wheel and groaned in desperation.
“I can push,” Simon piped up from the back seat, undoing his seat belt.
“No,” she said. “That won’t work. We’ll have to think of something else.”
She got out of the car to have a look and it wasn’t good. Maybe she could put something under the wheels, but what on earth would that be? Some planks would have done the trick, but she didn’t have any. Disheartened, she looked up the road as the seconds ticked by. Then suddenly she had an idea and disappeared into the house. She had two rag rugs in the hall, which she now rolled up and carried outside. Simon looked on from the back seat. He didn’t like it when his mother was upset; it scared him. Bonnie unrolled the rugs and put them down in front of the wheels. She tucked them under as well as she could and then got back in. She said a silent prayer and put the car in gear. She could feel immediately that there was traction, but it wasn’t enough. Twice she tried, but the rag rugs were just pushed away, so she got out of the car again. She got the shovel that was on the step and bent down and pushed the rugs as far as she could under the tires. She used all the strength she had, swearing and cursing to herself. She threw the shovel down on the snow and tried again. It worked on the third attempt and she whooped with relief.
Once she’d dropped Simon off at daycare, she drove at top speed to Jørgen’s tiny apartment. Jørgen was a small round man but was in good shape. His cheeks were incredibly smooth and he had lovely thick hair, and was always immaculately dressed in pants and a shirt. He got up at five every morning and made breakfast, and he cooked himself a warm meal every afternoon. He went to bed at around eight, after the news, and as far as Bonnie knew, he always slept well. Jørgen had a daughter who was seventy-five, who was now in a home. She had dementia and needed around-the-clock care. Every Friday he went to visit her. He took a taxi both ways and sometimes brought flowers that she didn’t even notice. Jørgen had eight siblings, but they were all long since dead.
Because the apartment was so small and easy to keep clean and tidy, Bonnie had plenty of time to chat with him when she was finished. He was always happy to tell her about his life and experiences. He had driven a car, an old Lada 1500 S, until he was well over ninety, and he had never been ill. When he was sixteen, he went to sea as a deck boy on the Flying Dutchman. There was a painting of the ship over the sideboard. A very amateur piece, but the details were no doubt correct. Lovely boat, Bonnie said when he got to that part of his story. Then Jørgen told her about the sea serpent he claimed to have seen in the fjord several times, with its glowing red eyes and shark-like fins. This was followed by the story of the wolf. A poor maid had given birth to a daughter out of wedlock, and they lived in a small hut in the forest far from any neighbors. She frequently trudged down to the nearest farms, wearing a long skirt that covered her skinny legs and bare feet. And as a rule she got work, so they managed to survive by eating berries, herring, and bread.
Jørgen paused here—as he always did—because he was getting close to the climax. Bonnie pretended to hold her breath, even though she’d heard the story many times before. Jørgen had his eye on her. He wanted to make sure she was listening.
One summer day when it was very warm, he said, she had filled a tub of water and put it out on the grass. She put the little girl in the water to cool off and went back into the house to make some food. As she stood in the kitchen, she heard the little girl scream. She ran out of the house to see what was wrong. To her horror, she saw that a great wolf had come sneaking out of the forest and pulled the little girl from the tub and was eating her.
“Oh my goodness,” Bonnie said, “that’s terrible!”
“Isn’t it?” Jørgen agreed. “The mother lost her mind and was never the same again,” he concluded. He twiddled his thumbs in his lap, very pleased with his story. He never tired of telling it to anyone who would listen. Bon
nie always shuddered in a special way. Jørgen’s words conjured up gruesome images in her mind, and even though she doubted that the story was true, it was still a glimpse into another time. She thanked him for his thrilling tale.
“You’re so good at telling stories. I can picture it all so clearly.”
She got up and went over to the countertop, where he had left a modest shopping list for her. She drove to the grocery store and bought milk, bread, and cheese. She drove back, stopped at the mailbox, and took the newspaper and shopping into the house and put the milk in the fridge.
When she was finished for the day, she went out to the car and called Britt. She wanted to thank her for such a lovely evening and say that all was well. She told her about the episode with the car and said that she had to go home now and clear the snow. She picked Simon up from daycare, put on his winter clothes, exchanged a few words with Kaja, and then drove home to Blåkollen. She parked on the road, not daring to drive up to the house. She rolled up the rag rugs and took them back into the hall.
“Well, they’ve certainly been aired now,” she said to Simon. “You go into your jungle and I’ll come as soon as I’m done.”
Clearing snow was never fun, but fortunately they only had a short driveway. It had never crossed her mind to buy a small snowblower. Not that she could afford one anyway—it was out of the question. When she had finished, she leaned the shovel against the wall and went inside. They sat on the sofa and read Where the Wild Things Are. As Simon was about to go to bed, the doorbell rang. This alarmed Bonnie because it was so seldom that anyone came. If it was a salesman, she’d have to turn him away. She put the book down on the table and went to open the door. To her astonishment, she found Britt standing on the front step. She was holding something heavy.
Bonnie stood with her mouth open. “What on earth have you got there?”
