I scanned the room. It was clean and tidy. The piles of newspapers were gone, the books were organised on the shelves and there was a smell of detergents and fresh air.
I sat down on the same sofa where I had made love.
Jakob sat down on the chair Rebecca had vacated, perched on the edge, assuming, I supposed, he would have to get up again quite soon.
‘I know all about what happened in 1975 now, Jakob. On the sixteenth of October. Everything. I’ve spoken to Ruth.’
‘Ruth … Solheim?’
I nodded.
Some of his high spirits drained away; and his eyes became noticeably serious. There was something awkward about his movements as he gesticulated, looked down and said: ‘Well? And?’
‘And?’
‘I mean, does it mean anything today, ten or eleven years on?’
‘What happened then wasn’t very pretty, Jakob. Five grown men who—’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, Varg. You’ve never performed on stage with a pack of howling young girls in front of you, worked yourself slowly into a frenzy, worked them up – and then the curtain falls, the stage is in darkness and everyone’s crowding around the exits. You had to have a release. There was always someone waiting and wanting to join the party with the band. You always got a trick, a hole to empty your shit in, a cold arse in the morning. But then, suddenly, we were on our way down. Of course, we felt it. The young girls were gone. New bands had the wind in their sails. We got a new type of audience – girls like Gro and Kari, who had always followed us; our own, if I can put it like that. And they had to go home to a husband and children. Fewer and fewer girls hung around the stage after the gig was over. More often than not we’d party on our own. And it was one of those days. The one in question.’
‘No one was waiting for you?’ I said with biting sarcasm.
‘No.’ He swallowed. ‘So we went back to Johnny’s to drink. Arild had some shit with him. Some pills. Harry smoked hash, passed it round. The atmosphere was a bit weird, if you know what I mean. Like finding yourself in the middle of a whirlwind. The room was spinning. The music was on full blast. The cloud level from the joints was low, and in the middle of all this chaos I remember as clearly as I can see him in front of me now … Johnny.’
‘Yes?’
‘Like a panther, you know. Ready to pounce, a wild look in his eyes and his hands down by his bollocks, as if he was about to … Then he jumped up. “No,” he said. “I can’t stand this any longer. I need a woman.” And then he went out and everyone laughed and guffawed. Of course we thought he was going to the loo.’
I could feel the muscles in my lips beginning to vibrate, to twitch violently. ‘But he wasn’t?’
‘No, because he was gone for a long time. And when he returned he looked satiated and happy, and then he said, looking around: “Anyone else want some?” It took us a while to click and by then we were so high, all of us, that I think … Afterwards not one of us wanted to accept we’d understood what was about to happen … The feeling was so strong we couldn’t look each other in the eye. That blew the band sky high, Varg … that’s how strong it was.’
‘I can understand that. But what we’re talking about here is…’
‘Well … Harry went with Johnny first, grinning like a fool – Harpo Marx from Verftet. The rest of us sat waiting in a growing void – like it is, you know, inside a whirlwind. Harry and Johnny came back, Harry beaming: ‘It’s true, boys … great bang. Arild went in, Jan Petter and in the end…’
‘You.’
‘Yes … me.’ An expression formed on his face, one of fury and fear, mixed with shame and endless humiliation. ‘Please don’t think I felt like a hero, Varg. All I’ve wanted to do is forget, forget, forget. I saw other relationships being destroyed by it. Anita left Johnny, Arild lost Halldis. I only told Rebecca several years afterwards, but strangely enough she stayed.’
‘Off and on.’
‘OK, in a way, yes. I suppose she felt she was owed something. But, that night … when I returned after … well, I can remember her underneath me, not breathing, not moving a finger … It was like making love to a corpse. When I returned and sat down and poured myself another glass of beer, Johnny leaned forward and spoke so loudly everyone in the room went quiet: “You’re a fucking bastard, you are, Jakob.” I looked at him, lost, as if it had only been me who … But he carried on. “Do you know who you fucked? Eh? That was your own daughter, Jakob … She’s your daughter and don’t pretend you don’t know.’”
Jakob looked at me as if he were telling me something I didn’t know. For the moment I could only glower back in silence.
‘My own daughter! I should’ve gone for him of course, but I simply couldn’t. I was stunned. I … don’t remember any more. Afterwards … afterwards everything went to pieces, literally. We all went our own ways and later … later we never appeared on stage together again. We barely saw each other. There wasn’t even any discussion. That’s how it was, as though we’d reached a tacit agreement there … that night … in that damned children’s room.’
‘But you must’ve guessed? You knew that you and Anita had…’
‘Guessed? Known? She never said a word. Nor did he, until then. A casual relationship, a couple of rolls in the hay. How could I know it would have such consequences?’
‘But … you’ve got your own back now?’
He seemed confused. ‘Got my own back? What do you mean?’
‘They’re all dead now. All the others. Apart from you.’
‘Surely you can’t mean that I would’ve…?’
I leaned forward on the sofa. ‘Well, didn’t you? Didn’t you kill them?’
‘Don’t be stupid, Varg. You know me. We grew up together, didn’t we. We were school pals, weren’t we. We shared our first bottles of beer, our best girls?’
‘I thought I knew you.’
‘Now come on … I’ve also been thinking. If all this is connected, why didn’t it happen until almost exactly ten years later, like some kind of anniversary?’
‘Mm, why didn’t it? I’ve asked myself exactly the same question, Jakob. Have you got the answer?’
‘I began to wonder what it was that happened in 1985.’
Faraway, I had a sense that the contours of new terrain were taking shape. Intrigued, I said: ‘Yes. What did happen?’
He lowered his voice and glanced at the door. ‘In 1985 Rebecca went to Berge Brevik and told him everything.’
‘Everything?’
‘Exactly. To explain why she reckoned she had such good grounds to leave me. And Berge Brevik – believe me – he’s quite a moralist, Varg.’
‘You don’t think…’
‘If he saw himself as God’s instrument on earth he might’ve got it into his head to start doing the strangest things…’
I heaved a sigh and sat back on the sofa. I could imagine them in front of me, like in a film, sitting in the spartan vestry: Rebecca with her head bowed, animated, upset. Berge Brevik straight-backed, retreating, shocked. ‘And Ruth,’ I said gently. ‘Did you ever contact her? Afterwards?’
He looked at me. ‘How could I?’
I glared back. ‘Mm. How could you?’
‘It’s obvious, Varg. The angels in the post. Who else but a sick person, someone trapped in their own moralism, could send anything like that?’
I stood up. ‘I have to go.’
He made to get to his feet.
‘Stay where you are, Jakob. I’ll find my own way out.’
He stood up anyway. ‘When will I … will we … see each other again, Varg?’
‘I doubt we will, Jakob. Ever.’
I went to the door. He didn’t move. Without saying another word, I went into the corridor and closed the door behind me.
She had heard me. Now she was standing in the kitchen doorway, with flour on her hands and a wall of baking aromas behind her. ‘Are you going already, Varg?’
I nodded.
<
br /> She closed the door behind her, but stood holding the handle. ‘I hope you understand. It was best like this.’
I waited for her to continue.
‘Out of consideration for the children. For all of us. Leaving is so easy. Returning is much harder. But isn’t the art of forgiveness the most noble of all human virtues?’
I didn’t answer. For a moment, I looked to the side. Then I caught her with my gaze again. She was standing three or four metres away from me, rumpled hair, in a simple, red-and-white checked blouse and everyday jeans, flour on her hands, some on the side of her chin and the reflection of a childhood on her face.
‘It was best like this, Varg. We belong together, Jakob and I. For good or ill.’
I cleared my throat. ‘And for us everything has gone?’
‘What has never been cannot have gone,’ she said with a sudden mixture of melancholy and ruthlessness.
‘No,’ I said. ‘You’re right.’ On the way to the door I mumbled: ‘Love is a lonely…’
‘Ah, I know that one now.’
I nodded and opened the door. On the threshold I turned around and looked at her for a last time. ‘Take care, Rebecca.’
‘Take care, Varg. Drop in on us if you feel like it.’
‘Unlikely, Rebecca. Unlikely.’
I closed the door behind me with a sense that I was closing the door on another chapter of my life.
And I still hadn’t finished.
I had another journey ahead of me.
48
There was the aroma of Christmas baking at Anita Solheim’s too. She came to the door herself like a scorned Mother Christmas, wearing a red jumper, brown cotton trousers and with the unmistakeable smell of white Curacao wafting around her.
‘Yes?’ she snapped. ‘What is it now?’
‘May I come in?’
She looked past me, to see if anyone else was with me, or whether the neighbours were following what was going on. ‘What’s this all about?’
I decided not to beat about the bush. ‘You’ve heard that Ruth has been arrested, I take it?’
Her face went ashen. ‘N-no?’ She stepped to the side and let me in. ‘What for?’ she asked as I passed. ‘Drugs again? And there was me thinking…’
We paused in the narrow hallway. The smell of baking was stronger now. And the smell of liqueur weaker.
‘No,’ I said. ‘She was arrested for the murder of your husband.’
‘Ruth? Johnny? That isn’t possible…’
‘Won’t you sit down? Isn’t it time to lay all your cards on the table?’
She nodded and went to open the door to the same basement room as last time. She switched on the dazzling light and plumped down on one of the chairs. It was a cold room. It reminded me of a mortuary.
‘Are you alone?’
She nodded. ‘Sissel’s with the priest.’
‘With Berge Brevik?’
She looked up. ‘Yes?’
‘On a Monday? Is that normal?’
She cast helplessly around her. ‘I don’t know. She just said as she was leaving that she was going to see him. Why do you ask? Is there anything up with Brevik?’
I said casually: ‘No, no, no. Has she been gone long?’
‘Half an hour. Tell me about Ruth. When was she…?’
‘Arrested? Last night. At her bed-sit. She’d been in Bergen for several weeks.’
‘Several weeks? And there was me…’
‘Trying to forget that she even existed?’
‘That wasn’t what I was going to say.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me she was Jakob’s daughter?’
Her expression was flat and bitter. ‘Who…? That’s none of anyone’s … What’s it got to do with the case?’
‘Quite a lot it turns out. I asked you before what your relationship with Jakob was.’
‘“Was” is right. Once upon a time … a hundred years ago. In nineteen … sixty-one. What’s that got to do with any of this? It was just something that happened. A falling star.’ She made a fluttering motion with one hand. ‘Like that. And then it was gone.’ She moved her hands apart to indicate an empty horizon. Not a ship in sight. Not so much as a distant sail.
‘But this falling star … produced a very tangible result?’
She hissed: ‘You don’t understand anything. You don’t remember me … as I was.’
‘Oh no?’
She sent me a pacified look. ‘Do you?’
‘Who can ever forget…?’
She looked at me with a resigned air. ‘Anyway I wasn’t … like this.’ Her eloquent hands ran down her shapeless figure. ‘I was curvy – everywhere – and the boys in the street couldn’t get enough of me. That’s the truth.’
‘I know. I remember.’
‘Both Johnny and Jakob were after me. I think I was a kind of trophy they were competing for. And Johnny won, he thought. But that was because Jakob had withdrawn. Because it was Jakob I … And little did he, Johnny, know when he was sleeping with me and enjoying the fruits of his victory that Jakob had tasted them first. It was just like that Danish song: “It was in Fredriksberg, it was May, I fell in love with…”’
‘Fredriksberg fort, Nordnes?’
She nodded. ‘Mhm. Jakob and I went for evening strolls. We climbed up the fort wall, by the entrance to Nordnes park where it’s easiest to get up. It was such a hot, pale-blue May evening and on the ramparts … he got what he wanted.’
‘And afterwards?’
‘Afterwards it turned out that was all he wanted. He gave me the cold shoulder and Johnny came on hot and heavy…’
‘And stormed an open door?’
She chewed her top lip and nodded. ‘You might put it like that. And when I discovered I was in the club…’
‘You told Johnny it was his?’
She nodded again.
‘He was never very good at mental arithmetic, was he.’
She shook her head. ‘So we got married.’
‘And he didn’t even react when she was born?’
‘I said she was … premature.’
‘But you knew all the time whose daughter she was.’
‘Of course.’
‘But you never told Jakob?’
‘Why would I?’
‘And he never asked?’
She glared at me. ‘You see, he wasn’t very good at counting either. Men in those years, in the late fifties, were fixated on these.’ She placed two hands under her big breasts.
‘But this was 1961,’ I said amiably.
She ignored me. ‘All they wanted was to paw and squeeze them as if they were … balloons … trophies. What you had up here didn’t’ – she tapped her forehead – ‘interest any of them. And as for what was down here’ – she discreetly indicated the part between her broad thighs – ‘that was just the trimmings. A kind of bonus. They got us in the family way out of pure distraction. Because this didn’t happen to only me.’
I nodded. ‘True. The fifties was the decade of unwanted pregnancies. In the years before people took care. And afterwards they were niftier with contraception.’
‘That’s right.’
‘But when did you tell Johnny?’
‘Years afterwards. That served him right.’
‘But when…?’
‘The bastard.’
I nodded. ‘But…?’
‘You can imagine how many rugs he’d cut over the years. The Harpers didn’t exactly tune their harps in nuns’ convents. But when he came back that summer … They’d been on a ten-day tour up in the fjords and he came back with the clap. I told him to pack his things and sling his hook. I gave him what for. I told him he wasn’t going to stain any more of my sheets, and by the way Jakob was Ruth’s dad.’
‘And how did he take it?’
‘As I’d hoped. Like a kick in the nuts. I hit him where it hurt most – in his manhood. He hadn’t been the first. Jakob had got there before him. And it was because of Jakob’s child he’d
had to marry me.’
‘And when did this happen? In 1975, I imagine?’
She nodded in surprise. ‘1975. End of August.’
I sighed heavily. ‘And then we’re into awful October. Why didn’t you tell me what really happened last time I was here?’
‘It wasn’t the kind of thing you talk about.’
‘But you knew … you had an inkling … he’d abused Ruth before? While she was still his own daughter?’
She shook her head vehemently. ‘No, Veum. I had no idea. It was only when she … If I’d known I would’ve left him long before. When I did find out I left him on the spot.’
‘But you didn’t go to the police?’
Her eyes averted his gaze. ‘No, it was too embarrassing. I didn’t want to talk about it. With anyone. I just wanted to draw a big, fat line under it all and forget.’
‘It would’ve been better for Ruth if you’d done the opposite,’ I said quietly. ‘It would’ve drawn a line under it for all time. For her, I mean.’
‘And have the wound reopened in a court of law? With merciless lawyers needling her? I wouldn’t wish that on my daughter. And she was mine now. Only mine.’
I pondered. ‘What did you think when you … when you began to see these death notices?’
‘Think? What would I think?’
‘You knew who else was there that night. Hjellestad, Kløve, Jakob, Johnny and Jan Petter Olsen?’
She nodded.
‘But as you decided not to go to the police … was it never in your mind – taking revenge into your own hands?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, at first I often used to think that they should have a taste of…’
‘And later?’
‘Later that need faded too.’
‘And you never imagined that someone else might be harbouring the same desires?’
‘Ruth? You don’t mean Harry and Arild and all of them was … her … do you?’ She eyed me in alarm. ‘I can understand that when she was doped up she might’ve wanted to get even with Johnny. After all, he was her father for many years. But the others? Pointless.’
‘To a disturbed mind? To someone who’s fled the world of reality?’
She gesticulated impotently. ‘I just can’t believe that. She was always such a quiet child.’
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