by Samuel Bjork
‘They were different colours.’
‘Really?’
Charlie nodded.
‘One was blue and one was brown. She looked a bit freaky. Callous. Serious. I was quite pleased when he stopped bringing her, to be frank. She gave me the creeps.’
‘When was this?’
‘Oh, I can’t remember.’
Charlie found a cloth and started wiping the bar counter again.
‘Some months after you stopped coming here, I guess. By the way, where have you been?’
‘I left the world for a while.’
‘Well, it’s good to have you back. I’ve missed you.’
Charlie winked at her and raised her shot glass.
‘Do you want me to throw out the other guests? Then we can have a proper drink, like we used to in the old days.’
‘Some other time, Charlie.’
Mia put on her jacket.
‘Too much to do right now.’
She found a pen in her pocket and scribbled down her number on a napkin.
‘Call me if you remember anything else, will you?’
Charlie leaned over the counter and kissed her goodbye on both cheeks.
‘Don’t be a stranger.’
‘I promise.’ Mia smiled.
She pulled her beanie well over her head and stepped out into the rainy Oslo evening. She scouted for a taxi, but saw none. Never mind. She wasn’t in a hurry. It wasn’t as if anyone was waiting for her back at the hotel. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her beanie and had just started walking back to the city centre when her mobile rang. It was Gabriel Mørk.
‘Hi,’ Mia said.
‘Hi, it’s Gabriel. Is now a good time?’
‘Absolutely,’ Mia replied. ‘Are you still at the office?’
‘Yes.’
‘You don’t actually have to be there 24/7 – you are allowed to go home, you know. I don’t know if Holger has told you that?’
‘No, I know that, but there’s quite a lot to learn.’
Gabriel sounded a little weary.
‘So, any news for me?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. It occurred to me that there must be a way to retrieve deleted text messages, so I called a mate of mine, an Apple freak.’
‘And?’
‘Simple. I found them.’
‘Everything that was on Roger’s mobile?’
‘Yep.’
‘Wow, that’s brilliant,’ Mia said. ‘So what have we got?’
‘Good news and bad. I found the deleted messages, but there weren’t many of them. His mobile must have been quite new. I’m starting to get cross-eyed and I don’t have the energy to read them all out loud; do you think you could look at them tomorrow?’
‘Sure. Am I right in thinking there was no sender this time, either?’
‘No, I have a number.’
‘Whose is it?’
‘It’s not listed. That’s why I’m calling. I’m going to have to hack several databases to find out who owns it.’
‘How many are we talking about?’
For a moment there was silence at the other end.
‘As many as I have to.’
‘And?’
‘Er, it’s illegal. We should really get a court order first. What do you think?’
‘Have you spoken to Holger?’
‘He’s not answering his phone.’
‘We can’t wait for him,’ Mia said. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK,’ Gabriel said.
‘Are you starting now?’
‘I thought I might hit the sheets first.’
‘As you like. I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow morning.’
‘Or I could do it now.’
‘Now is fine. I’m staying awake.’
‘OK.’
Mia ended the call and continued towards the city centre. The streets were practically deserted. She could see people through the windows, the glare from their television screens. Suddenly, her hotel seemed even less attractive than it had done earlier. There was no reason to go there. She wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. She might as well have another beer. Try to focus her mind.
Fortunately, Justisen was not busy. Mia ordered a beer and found a table in a quiet corner. She took out pen and paper, and sat staring at the blank sheet in front of her. Four girls. Six years old. Pauline. Johanne. Karoline. Andrea. She wrote down their names at the top of the sheet. Pauline. Went missing from her nursery. Found in Maridalen. Johanne. Went missing from her nursery. Found by Hadelandsveien. Karoline and Andrea. Taken from their homes. Where would they be found? She could see no pattern. The answer had to be there somewhere. Roger Bakken/Randi. The text messages. ‘It is unwise to fly too near the sun.’
‘Who’s there?’
‘Bye, bye, birdie.’
First message. Icarus. Roger had done something he shouldn’t have. Second message. ‘Who’s there?’ She seemed to remember a series of jokes that went like this. ‘Knock knock.’
‘Who’s there?’
‘Doris.’
‘Doris who?’
‘Doris locked, that’s why I’m knocking.’ It made no sense. ‘Bye, bye, birdie.’ That was easier. Bye Bye Birdie was a musical popular with gay men. The eagle tattoo. See you later, birdie.
Mia got a foul taste in her mouth and ordered another Jäger to wash it away. The alcohol made her feel good. She was starting to get a little drunk, but it made it easier to think. She found another piece of paper and placed it alongside the first. Satchels. Books. Paper. The names on the books. Doll’s dresses. I’m travelling alone. ‘These go together,’ she quickly scribbled. They add up. Pig’s blood. ‘Who’s there?’
‘They don’t add up,’ she wrote below it. Two from nursery school. Two in their homes. Ten dresses. A woman. Mia ordered another beer. It was happening now. Her head was clearer. The transvestite. A woman. Gender. Playing with gender? Gender confusion? Shame. Guilt. ‘I’m travelling alone.’ The first symbols were clear proof of intelligence. Satchel. Sign. Doll’s dresses. The others didn’t fit in with the rest: they were just white noise. Pig’s blood? ‘Who’s there?’ She tore off another sheet and placed it next to the first two. Knocked back her beer and ordered another one and a chaser. This was it. She was on to something. She wrote ‘woman’ at the top of the third piece of paper. Hønefoss. Maternity ward. Washed and got the girls ready. Anaesthesia. Care. Nurse? Photofit. Looks like everyone else. Invisible? How can you hide in plain sight? She left a section of the paper blank and wrote something at the bottom. Callous. Serious. Different-coloured eyes. One brown and one blue. Schizophrenia? One in Maridalen. One near Hadelandsveien. Forest. Hidden. Have to search. Have to work. Have to hunt. On display, and yet hidden. She wants to show us what she’s done, but not make it so obvious that we don’t have to look. Pig’s blood? ‘Who’s there?’ Why so clean first? Serious? Why so unclean later? Mia ordered more alcohol and found another sheet of paper. It was starting to flow now, there was something there. Something was taking shape, but it refused to come into focus. Pride. Look at me. Look at what I’ve done. Toni J. W. Smith. You’re useless, and I’m going to prove it. It’s me against you. A game. Why so clean first, and then so unclean? Blood? Pig’s blood? Staged. So theatrical. Fake. Ignore it. It was loosening up inside her now. A rush of unstoppable thoughts. That was it. Fake. Ignore it. Mia scribbled furiously; she almost forgot her drinks. Ignore it. Not everything matters. Not the staged elements. Not the theatricality. It is dishonest. Fake. It doesn’t add up. Look at what does add up. What is true. Which symbols point where? What do we need to address and what can we disregard? Is that the game?
That is the game.
Mia smiled to herself, but was unaware of it. She was miles away. Deep inside herself. The city didn’t exist. Justisen didn’t exist. The table didn’t exist. Beer didn’t exist. Skipping rope, yes. Satchels, yes. Doll’s dresses, yes. ‘I’m travel
ling alone,’ yes. Anaesthesia, yes. Pig’s blood, no: fake. ‘Bye, bye, birdie,’ no, not important. ‘Fly too near the sun,’ no, not important. ‘Who’s there?’
‘Mia?’
Mia was so startled that she leapt from her chair. She looked around, dazed, not knowing where she was.
‘Sorry, am I disturbing you?’
Reality slowly returned to her. Her beer came back into view. The room came back. And there was Susanne, standing next to her table, with frizzy hair, her jacket soaked from the rain, looking upset.
‘Hi, are you all right?’
‘Do you mind if I sit down? I can see that you’re working. I don’t want to intrude.’
Mia didn’t have time to reply. Susanne took off her jacket and collapsed on the chair like a drowned rat.
‘Sit down,’ Mia said. ‘No, it’s fine. Is it raining outside?’
‘Inside and out.’ Susanne heaved a sigh and buried her face in her hands. ‘I didn’t know where to go. I thought you might be here.’
‘And I was,’ Mia said. ‘Do you want a beer?’
Susanne nodded quietly. Mia went up to the bar. She came back to the table with two beers and two Jägermeisters.
‘Are you writing a novel?’ Susanne said, mustering up a feeble smile under her fringe.
‘No, it’s just work,’ Mia said.
‘Good, because that phrase has already been taken,’ Susanne said, pointing to one of the sheets.
‘ “Who’s there?” ’
‘What do you mean, taken? Where’s it from?’
‘It’s the opening line of Hamlet.’
Susanne brushed her hair behind her ear and drank some of her beer.
‘Are you sure?’
Susanne laughed.’
‘Yes, I should hope so. I mean, I’m the assistant director. I practically know the script by heart.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,’ Mia said. ‘Is it really?’
Susanne coughed slightly and suddenly switched to drama Susanne from Åsgårdstrand:
‘Who’s there? Nay, answer me, stand and unfold yourself. Long live the King!’
She took another sip of her beer and seemed a little embarrassed.
‘It’s not original. We can ignore it,’ Mia said quietly.
‘Ignore what?’ Susanne said.
‘Oh, nothing. So what’s happened? Why are you looking so miserable?’
Susanne sighed again. Pulled out her hair from behind her ear and tried to hide behind it.
‘The same old story. I’m an idiot.’
It was only now that Mia realized her friend had had quite a lot to drink already. She was slurring her words and struggled to steer the beer glass to her lips.
‘Actors. Never trust them,’ she continued. ‘One day they tell you they love you, and then the next day they don’t, and then they love you again, and then you believe them, and they sleep with one of the girls from the lighting crew. What’s wrong with them?’
‘Two faces,’ Mia said. ‘It’s hard to know which one is real.’
Two faces?
Playing with gender?
An actor?
‘Lying bastards,’ Susanne said, quite loudly.
Her voice travelled through the bar, and some of the other drinkers turned to look at them.
‘It’ll pass, won’t it?’ Mia said, putting her hand on her friend’s arm.
‘It always does. You just have to get back on the horse again. A never-ending merry-go-round, just like Ibsen’s Peer Gynt. Round and round, then suddenly life is over, and you never found your true love.’
‘You’re drunk,’ Mia said, and stroked her arm again. ‘And you’re talking rubbish. Why don’t we get you to bed?’
Mia was starting to feel quite drunk herself. She drained her beer and watched as Susanne tried to drink the rest of hers.
‘I always end up going home alone,’ Susanne said, wiping away a tear.
Mia’s mobile rang. It was Gabriel Mørk again. She looked up at Susanne.
‘Go on, answer it,’ Susanne nodded. ‘Christ, it’s not that bad. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, of course I am.’
‘Back in a sec.’
Mia answered the phone and walked outside into the beer garden.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Gabriel.’
‘What have we got?’
‘Another dead end.’
‘You didn’t find anything?’
‘Yes, the number is registered to a Veronica Bache.’
‘Excellent, Gabriel. Who is she?’
‘The question you should be asking me is who was she? Veronica Bache lived to be ninety-four. She died in 2010.’
‘How is that possible?’
‘She was old.’
‘Yes, I get that, but how is it possible for her phone to be active two months ago, if she died in 2010?’
‘No idea, Mia. I’m exhausted now. I can’t see straight, I’ve been awake for almost thirty hours.’
‘Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
She ended the call and went back inside. Susanne was no longer at the table but standing by the bar, swaying, trying unsuccessfully to convince the bartender that she was sober enough to buy more drinks. Mia gathered together her papers, put on her leather jacket and guided her friend out of the bar.
‘I’m not drunk,’ Susanne insisted.
‘I think you’ll be sleeping at my place tonight,’ Mia said.
She put her arm around her friend and led her gently through the wet streets towards her hotel.
Chapter 35
The woman with one blue and one brown eye was standing in front of one of the mirrors in her bathroom. She opened the bathroom cabinet and took out the lenses. Blue today. Blue eyes at work. Not different-coloured eyes. Not at work. At work, she wasn’t her true self. At work, nobody knows who I am. And, anyway, it wasn’t her real job, was it? It was just a cover. Just for appearance’s sake. She pulled her hair into a tight ponytail and bent forward towards the mirror. Placed the lenses carefully against her eyes and blinked. She put on a fake smile and studied herself: Hi, I’m Malin. Malin Stoltz. I work here. You think you know me, but you have no idea who I really am. Look how good I am at lying. Smiling. Pretending that I care what you’re talking about. Oh, your dog is sick? How awful. I hope it’s feeling better now. A glass of squash, of course, no problem, Mrs Olsen. Now let me change your bedlinen as well, make it more comfortable for you, there’s nothing nicer than fresh linen. The woman with one blue and one brown eye left the bathroom and went to her bedroom, opened her wardrobe and took out her uniform. Staff wore white: a good rule. When everyone wears the same, we become invisible. Unless our eyes are different colours. And now they aren’t. Now they are blue. As blue as the sea. Norwegian eyes. Beautiful eyes. Normal eyes. Sandwiches in the break room. Totally, I completely agree with you. She should have been kicked off the show, I certainly didn’t vote for her, that woman has two left feet. Dead faces. Empty. Vacant. Empty words. Lips moving below dead eyes. Did he really say that? Your ex-husband? How dare he! Yes, of course I’m on Facebook. Coffee. Eight o’clock. Sometimes I work night shifts. I park in the garage. But it’s not my real job, is it? Not really? No, reality is completely different.
The woman with one blue and one brown eye went out into the hall, picked up her bag and her coat, walked downstairs and got into her car. She started the engine and turned on the radio. They are missing, but no one will find them, will they? Not everyone is capable of having children. Who gets to decide? Who decides who can have a child? Some people lose a child. Who gets to decide? Who decides who will lose a child? It’s not my real job. Not this. No, no one can say what my real job is. Yes, some people know, but they won’t tell.
The woman with one blue and one brown eye changed radio stations. It was the same everywhere. The girls are still missing and nobody knows where they are. Where are those girls?
Are they still alive? Is someone holding them captive? How many girls do you need? How many children do you have to have? Two point three, isn’t that the norm? Normal? So you’re not normal if you don’t have children? What if you can’t have children? The woman with one blue and one brown eye drove slowly out of the city centre. It is important to drive slowly if you want to be invisible. If someone were to stop your car, they might discover that it is not yours. That your name is not Malin Stoltz. That it is something completely different. That would not be good. Slow is better. Sometimes, you can hide in plain sight – at work, for example. Some people think you need an education in order to get a job. You don’t. You just need papers. Papers are easy to fake. You just need references. References are easy to fake. The woman with one blue and one brown eye turned off Drammensveien and drove up to the white brick building. She parked her car and made her way to the entrance. Ten minutes to eight. If you arrive on time and do your job, nobody asks any questions.
She opened the door and went to the staff changing room. Hung up her coat, left her bag in her locker and looked in the mirror again. I have two blue eyes. I’m a little girl with blue eyes. This is just for fun. My real job is completely different. As long as nobody says anything, everything will be just fine. Sometimes you can hide in plain sight. The woman with one blue and one brown eye tightened her ponytail and went to the nurses’ station.
‘Hi, Malin.’
‘Hi, Eva.’
‘How are you?’
‘I’m really good. And you?’
‘It was a long night. Helen Olsen felt unwell again. I had to call the ambulance.’
‘Oh dear, I do hope she’s feeling better.’
‘It’s fine. She’s coming back today.’
‘Good. That’s good. How’s your dog?’
‘Better. It wasn’t as serious as we first feared.’
I’m not ill. You’re ill.
‘Who’s on duty today?’
‘You and Birgitte and Karen.’
I’m not ill. You’re ill.
‘What is this?’
The woman with one blue and one brown eye looked at the notice above the coffee machine.
HØVIKVEIEN CARE HOME CELEBRATES 10 YEARS!
‘Oh, that’ll be nice. Big party on Friday.’
