Jon the Coward, Jon the Coward, Jon the Coward.
Often when I wander up and down the corridor I am amazed that people smile and greet me as if I were a decent guy who deserves kindness. Can’t they see that it’s Jon the Coward? Don’t they see the swarm of flies buzzing around my head? Don’t they notice the trail of filth after me? So I walk on my own mostly or I go for walks with Molly. She is not like the others. She doesn’t want to talk about things that are painful either, but I know she has an older brother whom she hates. She doesn’t want to talk about him. She doesn’t want to tell me his name, even, which makes me wonder what could have happened. Molly and I have become friends for life. We have never told each other, but we both know it, and when I see her, I feel all fizzy inside, like carbonated water. Yesterday I was in Hanna Wigert’s office. I go there every day between eleven and twelve, and I sit on the blue sofa. I was holding one of the dolls in my lap as I always do. Sometimes I torture it a little. I pull its hair and pinch its feet, and it makes me feel better. I don’t know if Hanna notices or if she understands why I do it, but I like torturing the doll. I have nowhere else to direct my rage. Towards the end of the session Hanna fell silent. She rolled her chair towards the sofa where I was sitting.
‘What are you scared of, Jon?’ she asked.
I got terribly agitated because I felt she was putting pressure on me, so I pulled the doll and the seams came apart. But I also wanted to be a good patient and give as much of an accurate and truthful answer as I could.
‘Condemnation,’ I whispered.
‘Condemnation?’
She rolled even closer and she did not take her eyes off me.
‘Who would condemn you?’ she asked.
‘People,’ I said.
‘People? All of them?’
‘Yes. All of them.’
‘Is your offence that great?’
‘Yes, it’s enormous.’
‘Do you know every single person on the planet, Jon? Or just a few?’
‘Just a few.’
‘I see. A few. And you think they would condemn you?’
‘Any decent person would,’ I said.
‘So you don’t think there are any compassionate, understanding or forgiving people? Have you thought about it?’
‘There aren’t many of them,’ I said. ‘You’ll condemn me too, you just don’t know it yet.’
‘You might be wrong,’ she said.
‘I’m not wrong. I might have been wrong on other occasions, most people have been. But this time I’m right.’
That was our conversation. After the session I felt wretched. Compassion? Forgiveness? We’ll never get either of those. Not so long as we live.
I am on the horns of a dilemma. If I continue to keep my mouth shut then I’m a coward. And if I talk, Axel and Reilly will hate me.
CHAPTER 21
‘What have you done?’ Ingerid Moreno screamed.
She was standing in the door glaring at Axel, and she was incandescent with rage.
‘Tell me what you did. Tell me now!’
Her cheeks were flushed as though she had been running and indeed she had been. She had run from the car to the block of flats where he lived, she had run from the lift to his door. She entered the room and slammed the door behind her. Her hair was standing straight up.
‘Tell me what you did!’
Axel retreated. As usual his hand cupped his jaw. He paled at the sight of Ingerid Moreno. His brain worked frantically to catch up with the situation. He had anticipated that she might turn up, but he had expected a supplicant woman, not a fury.
‘Answer me!’ she screamed. ‘I know that something happened, I’ve read Jon’s diary. You did something and you’re going to tell me what it was! And don’t you dare lie to me, Axel, or I’ll beat you senseless. And you can laugh at me, but you don’t know how strong I am, I’ll tear you to pieces if you don’t give me an answer!’
Axel could not help but stare at her nails which were long and painted red. He forced his astonishment to the back of his mind, concentrated and finally regained the eloquence which always saved him.
‘Ingerid,’ he said gently. ‘Come inside, please. Don’t stand there screaming.’
He walked towards her with open arms, but she stepped back. In response he turned, crossed the floor and straightened up a little so his broad shoulders would come into full view. That way she would see that he was big, strong and self-assured, that it was he who decided what the truth was.
‘Sit down,’ he said kindly.
She perched on the edge of a chair. The red claws settled in her lap and she never once took her eyes off him.
‘I’m sorry,’ Axel said, ‘but I’ve got an infected wisdom tooth, so I’m not quite myself. Ingerid, dear. You’ve got to explain what all this is about because I don’t understand.’
Ingerid Moreno continued to stare at him. She might attack me at any time, Axel thought, she has lost Jon, she has nothing more to lose. She might claw out my eyes and people would understand. Poor Ingerid, they would say, she doesn’t know what she’s doing, she’s mad with grief.
‘I’ve read his diary,’ she said. ‘He wrote in it every single day and it’s about you three. He writes that he has a guilty conscience, that the three of you did something dreadful, and if that was what killed him, then I have to know what it was!’
‘The three of us did something?’ he frowned.
He breathed with forced calm. But the rest of him was ready to strike. What do I do if we’ve been found out? he thought. I’ll wring her neck. No, of course I won’t. Damn you, Jon, for putting your guilty conscience on paper for everyone to see.
‘He writes that we did something together?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘The diary makes it quite clear. I didn’t bring it with me, Axel, but there’s no doubt. I knew Jon. He speaks as if a great sin was committed.’
‘A great sin? And he’s saying that Reilly and I were involved?’
He gave her a look of compassion, as you would look at an errant child. He was also trying to ignore the infernal pain from the wisdom tooth, which constantly threatened to knock him off balance.
‘He doesn’t say that in so many words,’ she said, ‘but he was only ever with you. He had no other friends.’
‘He says we’ve done something dreadful, but he doesn’t say what?’ Axel whispered.
Ingerid bit her lip. She was finding it hard to sit still, she ached all over.
Axel had never seen her so agitated. Yet simultaneously he experienced a relief so tremendous that the agony from his tooth faded.
‘Jon was ill,’ he said softly.
His voice took on a comforting tone which made her listen.
‘Do you hear, Ingerid? He was ill.’
Ingerid broke free from his hypnotic voice and turned sharp again. ‘That diary was written in despair, not in madness. Don’t underestimate me,’ she snarled. ‘Don’t underestimate me because I’m a woman. Because I’m grieving. Because I’m older than you. Don’t you dare do that!’