Devil's Touch

by Tina Lindegaard

  "Which way?!"

  Silently, they had pointed in the direction the man had disappeared. Their mother was gone for a long time. When she came back, they had looked at each other again and moved a little closer together. Her steps were firm, but her face had a faint expression of surrender. She had stopped on the path.

  "What did he look like?"

  They had both spoken at the same time.

  "Stop, stop. He’s taller than me, right?"

  They had both nodded.

  "How old?"

  They had laughed, and Linda had answered, boldly.

  "As old as you."

  Their mother chose to ignore that.

  "He’s blonde, right?"

  They had nodded again.

  "He was wearing a suit?"

  Again, they both nodded.

  "Black."

  "And the suit was black, yes?"

  They had nodded, then their mother had nodded and turned around and walked down the path.

  "Mom?"

  There was a question in Linda’s voice and their mother had turned around.

  "He had blonde hair that fell down over his forehead."

  She had moved the sweet to the other side of the mouth.

  "He kept moving one hand through it."

  She showed how with her hand. Their mother had looked at them for a long time.

  "And he was around 40."

  She hadn’t waited for an answer from them, but only shaken her head and looked down the garden path and then back at the girls.

  "Never do that again. If it happens again, scream as loud as you can."

  Their mother had walked toward them and, as she passed them, had ripped the bags out of their hands before going into the house.

  Evy runs her fingers through her hair, carefully checking it in the mirror before putting down the envelope and closing her robe.

  When Nathan is back in the living room, he’s holding a cup of coffee. He has changed his clothes, and the aspirins have clearly started working. He picks up his phone from the small table next to the chair, brushing the whisky bottle in the process and almost tipping it over.

  "Hmm."

  A feeling of guilt washes over him, and he stares at the chair he had just been sitting in. ”Denize would have been furious about this.” He straightens himself.

  "OK, let’s start the day."

  He brings the phone over to the open garden door and breathes deeply while looking out at the park, ”exactly like any other day, if only I didn’t have such a headache.” He laughs. ”Maybe that’s my punishment.” He looks up at the clear autumn sky, then he looks down at the phone, checking the text message. He doesn’t recognize the number and checks his phone log from the day before.

  "Oh, good."

  The number from the text is the last number he called the day before. He smiles and crosses the hall while reading and enters his office. Passing Petra, he holds out his cup.

  ”Will you please fill this?”

  Petra takes his cup. Nathan doesn’t look up from the phone. When he reaches the door, he stops and turns, looking at her sternly.

  "Did you make the call?"

  Petra nods.

  "And?"

  "And?"

  "How long was the case postponed?"

  "Till next week. You have to be in court in exactly one week."

  "Thank you."

  He turns but stops the movement and looks at her again.

  "Remember to put it in the calendar."

  Petra can’t hide her surprise.

  "I always do that."

  Nathan looks at her a little, then he nods and walks through the door.

  "Of course you do. Don’t forget my coffee."

  He sits down at his desk and dials the number from the previous day.

  "Is that Marc Jones? Nathan Wilkins here. About the text message, can you come to my office today?"

  Nathan’s voice suggests that saying no is not an option. Petra puts the full coffee cup in front of him. Nathan nods at the case that should have been to trial this morning. Petra stops.

  "Marc, I need you to call my secretary about a case. I’m sure there’s a witness that hasn’t been found yet. I need you to find this witness for me."

  "Just call the main number. My secretary will give you more details.

  Petra leaves the office, shaking her head.

  "And Marc. The case you texted me about…I ask you to keep that between you and me. I’m surprised to hear that you have been working with it before. When can we meet?"

  Nathan swallows.

  "As soon as possible."

  Nathan listens intensely while looking at today’s calendar.

  "Today is fine and the time is fine too."

  Nathan breaks off and stares into space with empty eyes.

  "Hmm."

  He leans forward and picks up the coffee cup.

  "Hmm."

  Slowly, he gets up and walks over to the window. He starts when the rays of the autumn sun reach him and his headache. He blinks a little before moving into the shade from the curtains. From afar, he hears the phone ringing in Petra’s office.

  "Well, maybe there was a reason Stuart recommended him to me after all."

  He hears Petra saying goodbye and then getting up. He follows the sounds of her movements, and, when there is silence, he knows that she is crossing the thick carpet.

  "Nathan."

  He smiles, her timing is always the same.

  "Hmm."

  "I have talked to the investigator about the case that should have been to trial today. But Nathan..."

  With a quick movement, that surprises Petra, he is suddenly standing face to face with her. She sighs as she struggles to fight the increasing anxiety this cases makes her feel.

  "He has a witness for us. But how can he have that already?"

  "What do you mean?"

  Petra’s eyes get a little bigger, and Nathan cocks his head. He thinks it suits her - she somehow seems more intelligent.

  "Relax, Petra. There’s nothing wrong with it. There was a witness for the episode, and he found it. Have you read the file?"

  Petra shakes her head.

  "Not in detail."

  "But there’s a witness, Petra."

  Petra nods and leaves the office.

  "Please close the door."

  Nathan has turned to face the window, and when the door closes behind Petra, he sips his coffee, lost in thought.

  The day the swing broke, reality entered their life. Their mother had tried to repair it, but it didn’t work and it kept breaking, the feeling of being safe was gone. Finally, she had given up, saying: "You’re too big for that swing anyway."

  They had both protested loudly, but there was nothing to be done. They had to walk all the way to the public playground. There they had sat on separate tire swings, swinging back and forth till one day they had broken down in tears and held each other close, letting their tears fall freely. Suddenly, she had felt mentally raw – a feeling that is still there with her now, as she watches herself in the mirror. Absentmindedly, she confirms to herself that her reflection might as well be found in a glossy magazine – the kind where your fingers leave marks when you touch the pages. She looks down, while her fingers touch first her lips and then her chin. She remembers vividly how women with baby carriages had walked past them as they stood there crying, protecting themselves from the world around them. The women hadn’t stopped, but made little consoling noises as they walked by. Once again, a feeling of helplessness overwhelms her, and she feels how much she misses her sister’s embrace. She sighs, stares at the sheet under her and bites her lip. The pain from the lip shoots through her mind, followed by a taste of iron. She gets up and walks over to the mirror, holding out her lip that is bleeding a little again.

  "Linda, I miss you so."

  She walks back to the bed and sits down cross-legged, carefully making sure that her robe covers her.

  "Oh, Linda!"

/>   She can still see the sea of flowers in the church – flowers she knew her mother couldn’t afford. The coffin had been covered with white roses, as if her mother had tried to cover up reality. The feeling of being mentally raw had been so strong that all the kind, well-intentioned words had hurt so much it was almost physical. She can still hear the sound of her mother crying echoing in the half-empty church, but at the same time she had felt lucky.

  Lucky because she had said no at the right times. She had not, like her sister, felt a desire to try everything. It was as if her sister had sensed that life was short and should be lived till the last sigh. It has always seemed to Evy that Linda had felt a sense of urgency - she wanted to try everything and preferably yesterday. Evy picks at a mole on her thigh. She hadn’t liked Linda’s friends and had found her own. She sighs. She hadn’t really noticed that Linda had started losing weight. Actually she had thought for a while that she looked good that way. The dark rings under her eyes had come gradually, and so had the eternal restlessness that she exhibited all the time. Evy had been busy with her school. Her grades had been really good, and she had started making friends in the wealthy parts of the city. She had enjoyed being around them. She had sucked all knowledge of how to behave properly out of every situation, and had practiced using that knowledge until she mastered it, and soon she was invited to dinners and parties that was not just for young people. She had been so focused on the path she had found which would take her away from the yellow house that she had never stopped to think. She picks up the letter and stares into the mirror.

  "Dear Linda, you ended up being just another junkie dead of an overdose."

  There is pain in her voice - suppressed and forceful. Her mother had pulled away after the funeral. It was as if they had placed themselves with their backs against each other, and none of them had let the other in. The sea of flowers had meant that her mother couldn’t pay her bills, and her state of mind had meant that she lost her job. Before long, they were in danger of losing the house, and Evy had to leave her school. Evy lets her fingers touch the structure of the paper and holds it up to the sun. The watermark is clearly visible, exclusive, like something from the distant past.

  She can still clearly remember the man’s face. She snorts. “A total stranger. I had never seen him before.” He had seemed kind, his blonde hair was brushed back and his skin was tanned. He had seemed like a ray of sunshine in the middle of her despair that day on the playground. Linda had suddenly torn herself loose from their embrace and had run down the road to their home. Evy was left there with wide open eyes, feeling like she was drowning in her own emotions. She had felt betrayed and lost and stopped crying abruptly, like someone had pulled a switch. She hadn’t seen him coming, but suddenly he was sitting there in front of her, and, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she had thrown herself into his arms and started crying again.

  "Are you her father?"

  Over her crying, Evy had heard a woman’s voice.

  "Yes, I am."

  His voice was relaxed and comforting, and Evy had stopped crying and looked at the woman, who was studying her. Without even thinking, Evy had nodded.

  "Your other daughter ran away from here a while ago. I think she ran home."

  She moves her head in the direction where Linda had disappeared.

  "That’s where they come from every day."

  The woman looks from Evy’s face to the man’s.

  "Hmm, not a lot of similarities."

  "What are you saying?"

  This time his voice was firm and Evy pulled away at the sound.

  "I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t let your children walk here on their own. Not with all the traffic around here. They shouldn’t be here without a grown-up, either."

  The woman turns around and leaves, pushing the baby carriage so hard, her child starts to cry.

  "Don’t be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you."

  His voice is a whisper and Evy looks at him thoughtfully.

  "Can I come here and watch you play sometimes?"

  She remembers clearly how she, at that moment, had thought of the sense of being safe he had just given her, and she had thrown herself into his arms again. She has tried many timed to remember how that day ended, and how she came home from the playground, but she remembers nothing. The last thing she remembers is that he held her hand.

  Her fingers caress the paper, tracing the water mark. A shadow falls over her face.

  After Linda’s death, Evy had tried to go on with her life as usual, even though she knew that it wouldn’t last long. She had started working every afternoon, but still they had no money for her school. She had kept it hidden from her friends who had started complaining that she never had any time in the afternoons, and never told them what she was doing. She was invited to a party held by the parents of one of her friends. The invitation had surprised her. She knew Eric, but he had always been peripheral to her group of friends. Somehow, he had always been there, but not enough so that Evy expected an invitation to his parents’ party. But life with her mother had become so difficult, that she didn’t feel like wondering for very long, and the lights, the music, the food and the strangers all seemed so alluring, that she had used her mother’s credit card to buy the dress and the shoes that were necessary to live up to the others at the party. It had cost a fortune, and she knew that they probably wouldn’t be able to pay any of it back – like all the other things they bought.

  When she was painfully honest, she knew that the money she had spent could end up costing them the house. But it didn’t seem to matter at the time. She had convinced herself that she needed those things, and deserved them now that she was working so hard. It was at that party that she had met the blonde, tanned man with the brushed back hair. She had been talking to Eric, but the moment the man had appeared, he had changed completely and become sullen and withdrawn.

  "My name is Stuart Pettersson."

  In the same breath, he had asked if she needed a fresh drink. Before she could answer, he had looked at Eric, who had nodded reluctantly and left. She hadn’t seen Eric again that evening. They had chatted and a feeling of long forgotten security had started to fill her, before she had finally relaxed and allowed herself to feel attracted to him. She knew he was older than her, but their conversation had been lively and entertaining, and age suddenly became irrelevant.

  "Hey."

  Stuart had reached out and stopped a man, who was maybe one or two years older than him, but who looked just like him.

  "Meet my brother, James."

  "Nice to meet you, James Pettersson."

  She had reached out her hand and laughed.

  "I can hear that my brothers hasn’t told you about our different mothers. I have my mother’s name. Schmidt."

  "But my name is also Schmidt."

  Evy had laughed, and the conversation had become quite entertaining while they were drinking champagne and eating canapés.

  Evy had felt lighthearted and a vision of a brighter future had begun to develop within her, but around midnight she gradually started feeling worse. Stuart had made sure there was plenty of champagne, and at some point James said goodbye and she was alone with Stuart on the patio.

  "You don’t feel like going home?"

  The question surprised Evy.

  "It’s not an easy situation you’re in."

  Even in Evy’s dazed state, the words seemed strange, but her bubbly sense of happiness, her belief in the future, and the champagne, that had done its job and made her drunk, all left little room for deep thoughts. Right then and there, she just wanted to be young and feel rich in her beautiful clothes that matched everyone else at the party. She didn’t want to be the girl standing with her mother on the verge of bankruptcy, on the edge of an abyss that would cost her all her friendships, one by one, when she ended up in a ruin of a house on the outskirts of the city without an education. She gave Stuart a charming smile, but didn’t say anything.

 
"Hmm, we better leave the party, it’s almost over. I’ll drive you home."

  She nodded. He put his hand on her back, just where the bra strap stretches between the shoulder blades. She had found it strange and looked up at him. He had smiled but hadn’t looked at her. Instead he had pushed her forward with a firm and constant pressure. She had looked up at him again.

  "Stuart...?"

  He had stopped.

  "Evy, meet my wife."

  Evy saw a slender woman in her forties with warm eyes looking directly at her. Earlier in the evening, Evy had noticed that she had been standing very close to a much younger man, and she had been certain they were a couple, in spite of the age difference. Evy had cleared her throat, held out her hand, and, with a smile in her voice, responded:

  "A pleasure."

  The young man had started to laugh, and Evy had suddenly felt insecure. ”What am I doing wrong?” But nothing seemed wrong compared to what she could remember and she continued.

  "It’s a real pleasure, and what a fabulous party, don’t you think?"

  The woman looked at the young man, and his expression quickly changed and he just stood there as if he was waiting for something. Stuart’s wife took her hand, but didn’t shake it. A feeling of indifference washed over Evy as she let go of her hand. With a look, the wife examined Evy’s face and then her body, and with a knowing smile, she looked at her husband and blinked, before leaning against the young man, and smiling at him.

  "I’ll just take Evy home. The young lady has had a little too much to drink."

  "I’m sure I’ll find a ride home."

  Her brown eyes rested on the young man, and he reacted at once.

  "May I offer you a lift?"

  The sound of voices had disappeared behind them and the pressure against her back eased a little, as his hand ran down her back. She looked at Stuart, but he didn’t look back.

  "There it is."

  The limo stopped in front of them and the driver got out.

  “I’ve got it."

  There was no tone in Stuart’s voice. The driver looked at Evy and nodded before getting back in his seat. Evy let her hands run down over her hips to make sure that her tight, black dress with the slits hadn’t hiked up and wouldn’t when she got into the car.