At this very moment someone rang the doorbell hard.
Alvar jumped in his chair, he grabbed the kitten and he ran into the living room. His heart was pounding. Was it her again, Lindys? Or a salesperson, perhaps, or his neighbour? He stood petrified, clutching the kitten to his chest. If he just kept totally still whoever it was would eventually go away; right now he did not want to be disturbed. The bell rang again, sharply this time. His heart leapt to his throat. Why had she come to his flat, what did she want? What had he done wrong? Why did she have to blight his peaceful existence? The bell rang for the third time. Whoever it was, was leaning on the bell, the sound cut through the flat. His cheeks were hot with despair. Then it struck him how ridiculous it all was; him standing there shaking with fright just because someone was ringing his doorbell, and how pathetic he had become. It was a simple case of refusing to open the door, she would give up eventually. Because now he was quite certain that it was Lindys on the other side of the door. The bell rang for the fourth time. Or, he thought, I'll open the door and I'll ask her to go away once and for all. He rehearsed the words in his head. Go away once and for all. Suddenly everything went quiet, he thought he heard voices. Had his neighbour gone out? He went over to his kitchen window and looked out. Then the bell started ringing again. He could not bear it any longer; he clutched the kitten and went to open the door.
'Christ,' she said, putting her hands on her hips, 'what took you so long? You were here the whole time!'
Then she spotted the kitten. She melted instantly.
'Oh, but just look at you,' she said taking the kitten from him. She simply snatched it from his hands and pressed it confidently to her pale cheek.
'So when did you get this one? What's his name? Is it a boy? How old is it?'
Alvar struggled to deal with four questions simultaneously.
He cleared his throat nervously. 'I got him today. He's nine weeks old. His name is Goya.'
'Goya,' she repeated dubiously. 'Why?'
'Because,' he said, 'I named him after the Spanish painter. Francisco de Goya.'
'Right.' She still did not quite follow. 'Can I come in?' she asked then.
'I was just about to go out,' he spluttered. He reached out for his kitten, but she refused to give him back.
'I just need a few minutes,' she said, and before he knew it, she had stepped past him and into the hall. Alvar bit his lip.
'He's got blue eyes,' she said joyously.
He looked at her kohl-black eyes. She did not seem to be high and she was not slurring her words, that was always something.
'They'll turn green eventually,' he explained. She sat down on the sofa and put her feet on the coffee table. Alvar remained standing, clenching and unclenching his fists in frustration. She had clearly never been taught manners of any sort and her ankle boots were far from clean.
'You're lovely, you are,' she said, kissing the kitten on his pink nose. Alvar stood in the middle of the floor watching them. The kitten dangled like a toy in her hands.
'Don't squeeze him too hard,' he warned her. He couldn't bear it that she had taken the kitten from him.
'Oh, cats can cope with anything,' she said. 'They've got nine lives, didn't you know?'
'I have to correct you there,' Alvar said, 'they only have one, actually. And this kitten is my responsibility.'
She laughed at him. She stroked the head of the kitten with her fingers.
'So you're going out?' she said then. 'Where are you going? Are you taking the car?'
He nodded. 'I've got some business to attend to. In Oslo,' he lied.
'Cool!' she burst out. 'Can I come with you?'
He took a step back as he inwardly cursed himself and he started babbling. 'Yes, no,' he gibbered, 'I'm not leaving right now. I'm not altogether sure when, I need to go into town first, I've got some shopping to do there.'
She fixed him with her ice-blue eyes. 'Good God, you're a busy man,' she said. Then she laughed again, her laughter was shrill and loud.
'Well, I've got several things to do,' Alvar said again, 'in several different places. You'll just be bored waiting for me here, there and everywhere. It would be better if you took the bus,' he said rapidly. 'Or the train.'
She put the cat down on the table. Alvar leapt forward and grabbed it immediately.
'I didn't think you'd be so dull,' she said then.
Dull? Am I dull? Alvar thought. No, I certainly am not. But I'm floundering, how am I going to get this person out of my house?
'Do you have any more raisins?' she asked.
He shook his head firmly. 'No raisins. No chocolate. Nothing at all.'
Suddenly she started patting the pocket of her grey coat.
'One fag, that's all I need, I'm not staying long. You can get ready in the meantime. Do you leave the cat on his own when you go out? Then always remember to put the toilet seat down when you've been to the l00. I had a cat once and one day I found it drowned in the 100.'
Alvar was shocked. 'So,' he said when he had recovered, 'it only had eight lives left then?'
She made a face at him. Stuck a cigarette in her mouth, fished out a lighter advertising a convenience store.
'I was trying to give you a piece of advice,' she said, 'but if you're not interested then that's no skin off my nose.' She blew a column of smoke out into the room. Alvar hated it, he was not used to the smell of smoke, he did not even own an ashtray, so he went into the kitchen and found a bowl. Put it in front of her on the coffee table. She immediately flicked the ash off her cigarette.
'Don't you have something you should be getting on with?' she said. He sat down in his armchair. He felt he ought to make conversation, but at the same time he wanted her to leave.
'What have you done with the scarf?'
'The scarf?' She gave him a perplexed look.
'Yes,' he said, 'the scarf I gave you. The Mulberry scarf. It's a very fine scarf.'
She shrugged. 'Not a clue,' she said. 'It's not so cold any more, just as well.'
Alvar felt deeply depressed. It was an expensive scarf, and she had discarded it carelessly and he had been taught a lesson. His neighbour had been right, you could not trust those people.
'Why haven't you bought the painting?' she asked, nodding towards the blank wall above the fireplace.
'Ahem, I haven't got round to it,' he replied.
'Got round to it?' She laughed again. 'The painting is hanging in your workplace. All you have to do is unhook it. You're not very quick off the mark, are you?' she stated. 'You really wanted it. Are you that indecisive, Alvar?'
He could feel his cheeks burning again. He certainly was not indecisive, on the contrary he was controlled and organised. Yes, he was going to buy the painting, but not because she was pushing him. It would happen of its own accord, he would know when the time was right, when he was ready to act.
'My mum could never make a decision,' she said suddenly.
'Oh?' Alvar enquired.
'Yes. She had a phobia. And this phobia was so great that it paralysed her. All she could do was sit in her chair all day. She couldn't manage any decisions, she never ate. She couldn't leave her room, she never left the house.'
'What was she scared of?' Alvar asked.
'Dying,' she said. 'She was so scared of dying that she wasn't able to live life like other people. She ended up killing herself with some pills the doctor had given her.'
'She was so scared of dying that she killed herself?'
Alvar was perplexed. He could see no logic in this.
'Weird, don't you think?' she said, inhaling. 'People can be so strange.'
Alvar's living room was now dense with cigarette smoke. He detested it. The stress was building up in him and he was certain that she was aware of it, but she pretended not to notice.
'Do you have any spare cash?' she asked, stubbing out her cigarette in the bowl.