– But wouldn’t Oswald have got lost in the woods?
– No, because listen to what his father did. He partitioned off the cellar under the cabin with a wire fence, and he used to lock Oswald in there before he went away.
Signy’s eyes opened wide. Bad enough hearing about Tora and her drug addict mother, but this was even worse.
– It’s not true, is it? Locked up in the cellar? Like a beast?
– That’s why we shouldn’t get in his way when he has these moods. We just don’t know what’s going on in the heads of people like that. Do we, Oswald?
Oswald gave a bright smile and continued to beat his chest.
– Oswald catch bear.
21
Thursday 11 October
THE SEAT NEAREST the door in the half-full underground carriage was vacant and Axel was able to lean his cycle up next to him. The weather had cleared, the temperature had risen, and even with the slight damp in the air it felt like summer. Like a gift to those longing for the sun, and a reminder for climate pessimists.
He cycled in the forest every Thursday, switching to skis in the winter months. It was a breathing space in the middle of the week he always looked forward to. But today would be a little different from his usual day off. He avoided thinking about it, took a copy of Dagbladet from his rucksack and by the time they reached his station had glanced through it. The bear case continued to dominate the front pages. A couple of days ago it was reported that all witnesses were going to be interviewed again, but so far he had heard nothing. The head of the Violent Crimes section of the Oslo police, Finckenhagen her name was, had made a statement to the press. The case was being given top priority, she told reporters, without making it clear whether or not the police believed a bear was on the loose in the immediate vicinity of the capital. But there was nothing urging people to avoid walking in the marka alone.
Lower down the page there was a fact box. The last confirmed sighting of bears in the Nordmarka had been over fifty years ago, Axel read, although signs had been seen towards the end of the nineties. The maximum life span for a bear in the Scandinavian wilds was in the region of 25 to 30 years. A fully grown bear could reach anywhere between 150 and 280 centimetres in height and weigh between 100 and 350 kilos. Then came a few pointers about what to do when encountering a bear. Don’t try to run away from it; the animal is capable of running at 60 kilometres an hour. Turn your back and flee in panic and you’ll be taken for prey. Trees don’t make a good hiding place; young bears are excellent climbers, older bears can if they have to. Keep calm, move slowly away backwards. Don’t try to scare the bear away. Thanks for the advice, Axel grinned, and turned the page.
Interviews with members of the public, questions about whether they were afraid of bears. The paper stressed that life went on as normal in the capital. As though anyone had thought it wouldn’t, Axel sighed to himself. The journalist had spent the evening at El Coco’s in Rosencrantz’ gate, where they were advertising a section of the bar as bear-proof and had installed a sort of mesh screen across the entrance. People could order drinks from the bar with names like Pooh’s Honey and Grizzly Killer. Axel rolled the paper up and shoved it down the side of the seat.
She was standing a little way down the platform, wearing cycling shorts and helmet, black jacket and sunglasses.
– Been waiting long? he asked.
A lot of ramblers and cyclists were milling round. They didn’t look all that scared by the headlines, or the thought of what might be awaiting them out there in the woods. He gave her a quick squeeze on the arm.
– Cool set of wheels.
She got into the saddle.
– I bought it yesterday.
He waited at the top of Blankvannsbråten. When Miriam joined him, he nodded in the direction of the edge of the forest.
– We’ll leave our bikes up there.
– Are you sure it’s safe to wander about up here? she asked.
He laughed.
– That bear’s miles away, don’t worry about that. With everything that’s been going on up here, it’s been scared halfway up to Valdres or Trøndelag by now. You know how far a brown bear can get in a week?
He took a step towards her, loosened her helmet. Her hair was gathered in two braids and fastened with a grip at the back.
– Unless, that is, there’s something else you’re afraid of, he added.
By the time they reached the tarn, it had clouded over. He took his rucksack off and put it down next to the little boat lying there with its bow pointing upwards, then took out a white cloth and spread it out, putting a thermos and two cups on it, and a package from Bruun’s bakery.
– You brought a cloth?
He gestured expansively.
– A little style, that’s all. I stole it from the examination room. It isn’t sterile, but I can guarantee it’s clean.
She laughed, and he reached out a hand and touched one of her ears, the almost invisible rim of fuzz.
– This is goodbye, he said. – That’s why I’ve invited you out to lunch.
– What do you mean?
– I’ll be away next week. Seminar.
He’d forgotten to tell her. Put it at the back of his mind.
– Inger Beate will be looking after you for the rest of your time with us.
He jumped up on to the rock, looked out across the black mirrored surface.
– Last one in is a rotten egg, he called out to her, pulling off his vest, trousers and underpants in one movement and diving in without a moment’s hesitation. The water was colder than it had been two weeks earlier. He ducked down and swam a couple of strokes underwater, spun up again and turned round. She was standing by the rock, still looking amazed.
– Don’t stand there wondering what day it is, he said to cheer her up.
– I’ve just had a sore throat.
– All the more reason. This beats an apple a day any time.
She started to pull off her tight shorts. He kept his eyes on her as she took off the rest of her clothes and remained standing there at the water’s edge in the sharp grey light. That’s not why I brought her here, he thought. But as he stood there in the cold water looking at her naked body, he knew that it would happen soon. Without realising, he had prepared himself for it. There were no barriers left to cross; he was there already. Can’t be avoided, he said to himself.
He had a little towel in his rucksack. Handed it to her as she came tripping up on to the bank with small steps. To dry himself he used his vest.
After they had eaten the baguette and drunk some coffee, he said: – You’re still shivering. We need to warm you up.
A few drops of rain showed on the cloth. He pulled her to her feet.
– Five minutes, on the double, he ordered.
He set off running ahead of her, round the tarn and up the hill, and stopped to wait for her there. The drops of rain were bigger now, heavier. She cast an anxious look up into the trees.
– We’d better find somewhere to take cover, he said and took her by the hand.
The little shelter made of spruce branches was still there on the other side of the hill. At first glance everything looked to be much as it had been on his previous visit. Only the empty bottles were gone. He couldn’t see the little book of Buddhist scriptures either.
– Is this where you live? she smiled.
He crawled inside.
– When the moon is full I sleep out in the forest, he answered and pulled her inside after him.
– Bed and everything! she exclaimed. – How did you know about this?
He held her close to him.
– Miriam, he said quietly. – I’ve tried everything. Not even cold showers help.
– Don’t help a bit, she echoed.
– I just can’t hold out any longer.
– Me neither.
He took off his jacket and vest, bunched them under her; she pulled her shorts off again, kept the little panties on. Pressed her forehead
against his and looked into his eyes.
– Did you mean what you just said? That this is goodbye?
Her skin still smelled of the swampy water, mingled with sweat and damp earth and the sap from the pine branches of the roof. He pulled off her panties, noticing that he shook his head as though he were answering her. In the same instant he heard a crack from one of the branches. He twisted round and looked up. Glimpsed a shadow outside. And there, between the pine branches, an eye staring down at them. He tensed himself, pulled away from her and crawled to the entrance.
– What is it, Axel?
He saw no one, listened out among the trees. Then he stretched across the roof of the shelter. A hole had worn through the plastic between the branches; he could look down at her.
– Are you trying to scare me?
There was fear in her voice. And at that moment he saw himself standing there naked, bent over a shelter deep in the heart of the forest. Her fear acted like a signal to him and he reached his arm inside and picked up his clothes.
– It was nothing, he reassured her. – Probably just a bear or something.
It was drizzling as they walked back towards the bicycles. He took her by the hand. If anything more had happened there in the shelter, he thought, if the inevitable had taken place, then we could have been done with it. But now she’s closer to me.
– Did I tell you I had a brother? he asked suddenly.
– A twin. You thought it was him your patient saw in the street the other day.
He took a few deep breaths before making up his mind.
– I thought I saw him too. The same morning as you started at the clinic.
He stopped and turned towards her.
– In a manner of speaking Brede didn’t exist any more. But these last few weeks he’s been cropping up in my thoughts the whole time. Now he won’t disappear again. Just then, in that shelter, it was as though I saw him standing there peering down at us. I don’t want to involve you in any of this …
She moved close to him, put both arms around him.
– I want to be involved. I love everything you tell me about yourself.
He started to walk on, but didn’t let go of her.
– It must be twenty years since I last saw Brede. He’d just been thrown out of some dive in town; I happened to be passing by. He couldn’t stand upright. I offered to walk him home. Or give him money for a taxi. He lay there on the pavement glaring up at me. I want fucking nothing from you, he was screaming. One day I’ll destroy you, the same way you destroyed me.
22
CECILIE DAVIDSEN DIDN’T go home. She’d walked all the way from the hospital to Vindern. Now she kept on walking up the hill. It had turned dark. For several hours she wandered aimlessly. Ris, Slemdal, all the way up to Voksenåsen, down again to the pond at Holmendammen.
How many other doctors would have taken the trouble to knock on the door and tell her in person? Glenne was the type who cared. The fact that she was going to die mattered to him. You’re not to die, Mummy. It was nine days ago now. He’d been different from the way he was in the office down in Bogstadveien. Actually she had wanted a female doctor. Or an elderly man. Axel Glenne was younger than her. And yet once she had got used to it, she realised how lucky she had been. He helped her to relax. He was tall and strong and able to deal with anything. But that day last week, when he’d come to her house, he had seemed unsure of himself. Almost confused. He’d come because he wanted to talk to her in person, face to face. He’d come to tell her she was going to die. She had known it. From the moment she realised that the lump had grown. Still she couldn’t understand what he was doing standing at her door. Benedicte understood. Before she went to sleep that evening she had said: You’re not to die, Mummy. And instead of replying, No, darling, I’m not going to die, not for a long, long time, she had started to cry. Benedicte did all she could to comfort her, but when Henrik returned home later that evening, she just sat on the sofa, staring, unable to speak. Not daring to speak. Because once she told him, it would be real. The truth of it would dawn on her.
She had been to the hospital that afternoon. Had a long talk with a nurse. Finally the surgeon arrived, the one who was going to do her operation. Are you Cecilie Davidsen? She would so liked to have answered no, told him he was looking for someone else. But there was no way out of it. He was friendly, obviously busy and yet he didn’t hurry. But he too knew that it couldn’t end well. He didn’t say, You’re going to pull through. He said, We have to be realistic about this. We’ll do everything we can, but the result is uncertain.
He’d given her a sick note. She regretted agreeing to the idea. Going home to wait. All the thoughts with nowhere to put them. Every time she tried to drive them away, they swarmed over her. Haakon was eighteen. He would be all right. Benedicte was the one she had to think about. The rest of her childhood and all her adolescence without her mother. Would Henrik ask for a less demanding position at work? Would he find another job? Impossible to imagine. He’d ask his mother for help. She was still reasonably fit but didn’t have the energy she once had. And he would ask his sister. He would send Benedicte to live there.
The thought of Benedicte growing up with Henrik’s sister stopped her in her tracks and she had to support herself against a street lamp. Nausea welled up in her. What if Henrik found someone else? Anything would be better than having Benedicte grow up with her aunt.
She walked over to the wharf and stood there looking out over the dark water. She wanted to cry but couldn’t. She hadn’t cried since that first evening, when she sat on the edge of Benedicte’s bed and stroked her hair. Footsteps in the gravel, away somewhere. Approaching. She couldn’t face turning round.
23
Friday 12 October
RITA CALLED HIM at 3.15.
– You remember I’m leaving early today, Axel?
He’d forgotten.
– Hasn’t Cecilie Davidsen come yet?
– No, you’ve got no one waiting. The only one left now is Solveig Lundwall, three thirty.
– Davidsen didn’t call?
– Not that I know of.
Axel sat there lost in thought. Cecilie Davidsen was due to be operated on at Ullevål hospital next Wednesday. He wanted to see her one last time before she was admitted. Was it because he had called at her home that she hadn’t come? Forcing his way into her house with this news. He recalled the daughter’s frightened eyes when she opened the door to him.
He shook these thoughts off and wandered out into the corridor. Rita had gone. Inger Beate too. The waiting room was empty. He had an idea and went into Ola’s office. At this moment Ola would be at the helm of a sailing boat on his way across the Pacific. Or diving with his sons on a coral reef off the Fiji islands. Holding on tight to the shell of a giant turtle and being pulled along through the water. He’d be travelling for another six months. When Ola gave the best man’s speech at Axel’s wedding twenty-two years ago, he had said that they each had their own god, he and Axel. He made his offerings to Poseidon, while Axel followed Pan into the forests.
For the time being this was Miriam’s office. He thought he could pick up the faint scent of her, even though she hadn’t been there for two days. He was attending a seminar after the weekend, and Inger Beate would be her supervisor for the last three days of her practical placement. When they’d parted at Frognerseter the previous day, neither of them had said anything. But Axel had made up his mind that it was the last time he would see her.
He sat down at the desk. Her stethoscope was in the middle drawer, and a couple of her textbooks. He opened one of them. She’d written her name in thick blue ink. He sat a while looking at it.
– You must be a very happy man, Axel, he muttered. – You’ve been given the lot. There is no more than this.
Beneath the second book he found a stuffed A4 envelope. She’d written her name on this too with the same pen. It wasn’t sealed, and when he pulled out the flap he saw that it contained a pile of
smaller envelopes. He still knew next to nothing about her, and didn’t want to know any more than that either. It was what had enabled him to keep control. It was what made it possible for him to sit there and think that he would never see her again. Let it pass, let her fade away almost to invisibility, and life could go on as before. It was Friday afternoon. He was looking forward to the weekend. Saturday was training with Tom’s football team, and Marlen’s riding lesson. In the afternoon he was planning a trip to Larkollen. Lay up the boat for the winter. Paint the veranda of the summer cabin. He’d try to get Tom to go along with him. Maybe stay overnight, just the two of them. Apart from that, there was nothing that had to be done. Except paint a few skirting boards, he suddenly remembered, and change the fan belt in Bie’s car.
He fumbled down inside the envelope, and was about to pull out the contents when he heard someone calling his name out in the corridor. He threw Miriam’s things back into the drawer.
Solveig Lundwall was standing outside the door of his office.
– Hi, Axel, she said as she saw him approaching, and he could tell straight away that she was still not well.
He let her in, asked how the time in the secure wing had been. It had been painful. She’d been strapped down.
– Really? he exclaimed.
She gave him a dark look.
– Do you think I’m lying, Axel?
– Of course not, I’m just surprised.
She sat there in front of him in her dark blue polo-neck pullover and grey skirt, face a little drawn but nicely made up. It wasn’t easy to imagine her screaming and foaming at the mouth in a restraining bed.
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