She opened the first page and pointed to the photo of a newborn baby swaddled in a blanket.
‘Kim,’ she whispered. ‘On the day he was born.’
CHAPTER 37
Reilly’s cell measured eight square metres. It had a simple bed and a desk, and he had his own toilet. He also had a shelf with a handful of books, and on the wall above his bed he had fixed an old photo of himself, Axel and Jon when they were boys. Axel’s father had taken the picture. It was before the stroke destroyed him. Axel was wearing a white shirt and jeans; Jon was in shorts and on his head he wore the dark blue cap from Toten Transport. Reilly himself was wearing an old tracksuit with red and blue trim.
Reilly studied the picture every day. He was convinced that he would eventually spot signs of everything that had happened since then. A shadow, perhaps, or a certain light. But he found no such thing. They were just little kids with skinny legs and pointy knees.
The window of his cell faced the river, and a herd of cows was grazing on its bank. There were fifty, maybe sixty animals there, and he enjoyed watching them. The animals were sturdy and shaggy, some were as pale as cream, others black or red, and they always moved as one. Whenever it began to rain, they would huddle together under a cluster of trees in a compact slumbering mass.
‘Herefordshire,’ Hermansen said.
Hermansen was the prison guard whom Reilly liked the most. He was the oldest one on the section and would retire shortly. Sometimes you could sense that he was already winding down. He had lost some of his flexibility, and his dealings with the inmates was characterised by a brutal honesty.
‘Herefordshire,’ Reilly echoed. ‘You know about cows then?’
‘I know the farmer,’ Hermansen said. ‘It’s the best meat there is.’
Reilly remained by the window. He was filled with a sense of gravity, which pulled him towards the floor, but it was not unpleasant. It was the feeling of being in the right place. I’m atoning now, he thought. I atone while I sleep, and every second I repay part of a huge debt.
‘Are they outside in the winter?’ he asked, nodding towards the cows.
‘Oh, no,’ Hermansen said. ‘They go back in the cowshed at the first snowfall.’
‘But that could be any minute,’ Reilly said. ‘We’re halfway through November. What will I look at then?’
‘Then you’ll have to look at the sky,’ Hermansen said. ‘And the clouds. You’ll always find something to look at. You have to. You’re going to be here a long time.’
Reilly went to his bed. He sat down and picked up the Koran that was lying on the blanket.
The older man watched him kindly. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’
‘I’ve been thinking about something,’ Reilly said, ‘since you’re asking. I was wondering if perhaps I should send flowers. To Ingerid and to Yoo Van Chau.’
Hermansen frowned. ‘Flowers? What good would that do?’
‘I just want to express my grief. At everything that happened.’
‘For what you’ve done,’ Hermansen corrected him.
Reilly nodded. ‘Yes. For what I’ve done.’
‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea,’ Hermansen said. ‘It won’t solve anything.’
‘But I have to do something,’ Reilly groaned. ‘You understand that, don’t you?’
‘You can’t send flowers,’ Hermansen said. ‘They don’t want to hear from you ever again. Leave them in peace.’
Reilly slumped on the bed. The Koran slipped out of his hand on to the blanket.
‘No matter how bad your actions were,’ Hermansen said, ‘in the end you confessed. That in itself is an act of decency.’
The door to his cell slammed loudly behind him. Reilly was on the verge of tears. If only I could get high, he thought, a seductive little drop of Salty Water. He opened the Koran and picked out a verse at random.
If a man kills a believer intentionally, his recompense is Hell, to abide therein for ever: And the wrath and the curse of God are upon him, and a dreadful penalty is prepared for him.
He returned to the window and focused on the cows again. Big, beautiful and slow they meandered across the meadow, seemingly unaffected by time or man, enclosed in a world of their own, devoid of any urgency. Only a couple of calves that did not know any better leapt and gambolled around. A few hard kicks from the older animals quickly put them in their place.
CHAPTER 38
Jon is waiting.
From the steps outside the ward he has a good view of the area in front of the hospital. He is sitting on the third step and though the sun is shining, he is warmly dressed because it is September and the nights can be chilly. Any second now Axel’s green Mercedes will appear around the bend. While he waits, he chews his nails. He has bitten them right down. The tips of his fingers are red and sore. He thinks about everything that has happened and about how he is going to move on. He knows he has to make a choice. That’s why I’m struggling, he thinks, because I can’t make up my mind. But sometimes we need to face reality. And perhaps that is not fair, but nothing about this situation is fair. It’s best to keep my mouth shut, he thinks, I’m protecting Axel and Reilly. They are my friends, and we’re in this together for ever.
Molly Gram appears from around the corner. Melis is leaping and bouncing. Jon raises his hand to greet her.
‘Are you leaving?’ she asks. ‘Are they coming to fetch you?’
He kicks the step. Her gaze makes him feel giddy.
‘So when are you back, then? Sunday evening?’
He nods. Her irises light up like gemstones inside the black makeup. Her eyes appear shiny and wet. But then again the air is sharp, he thinks. I mustn’t jump to conclusions.
Axel’s green Mercedes pulls up outside the hospital.
All of a sudden Jon is consumed by fear at having to leave Molly so soon after he has found her and she has set something in motion. Axel beeps the horn. Due to the reflection from the windscreen, Jon cannot see his face, but Reilly gets out of the car. The wind grabs hold of his coat, and makes him look like a gigantic fluttering moth.
‘Text me,’ Molly says.
Quick as lightning she comes over and kisses him on the lips.
Jon starts to walk, but he would rather stay where he is, so he slows his pace and turns around one last time. Axel is always on the lookout, he thinks. He keeps an eye on me. And Reilly always recites threats from the Koran. As long as they leave me in peace, as long as my anxiety doesn’t get the better of me, then I’ll be all right.
‘Jon Moreno,’ Molly calls out. ‘Cheer up. It’s not like you’re going to your own execution!’
He feels light-hearted again. I think I’ve got myself a girlfriend, he concludes. I do believe I have a girlfriend.
Axel beeps the horn again.
And Jon starts to run.
Karin Fossum
