He drove away hastily.
Then he heard a low drumming.
The volume of the sound was increasing rapidly. The sound startled him, someone was coming through the woods, he sensed, and he clutched the wheel. In a flash he identified the sound. Sudden and violent raindrops started to splatter against his windscreen. The skies opened, rain came down like a grey, compact wall. It almost forced him off the road. Her tiny body would be soaked in a matter of minutes, the rain would go straight through the blanket, freezing cold and raw. He slammed on the brakes, buried his face in his hands. Was there no end to this misery? But she's dead, he thought, she won't feel anything. Nevertheless it was pouring down and he did not have the strength to push the thought out of his mind. Her skinny body at the side of the path and the rain washing down on her mercilessly. No one should lie like that, he thought, and it is I, Alvar Eide, who is responsible for all of this. He forced himself to drive on. He met no cars, the streets were empty now, he drove through them at a snail's pace, visibility was nearly zero.
Ten minutes later he rolled into his yard. He turned off the ignition and got out. The intensity of the rain had escalated. He carefully closed the car door and quickly entered his flat. He locked the door behind him and stopped. And then it all got to him, everything that had happened and the rain, which pelted the windows like a punishment from God. I can't bear it, he thought, she's lying out there getting wet. Someone else needs to take over now and help me. Then something occurred to him. He went over to the telephone, stopped and stared at it. He saw the yellow Post-it note with a number on it, which he himself had stuck to the telephone a long time ago. With his hand trembling he lifted the receiver and punched in the number. After three rings there was a reply.
'You're through to the Red Cross emergency helpline. This is Marie speaking, how can I help you?'
Alvar opened his mouth, supporting himself with one hand on the chest of drawers, his voice barely audible.
'I've done something truly awful,' he sobbed.
Silence. He could hear her breathing.
'Do you want to tell me about it?'
A female voice. So light and friendly. Alvar held his breath. He was overcome by fear of what was about to happen. Marie. Perhaps this really was her name, or perhaps she just called herself this when she was working, why should he trust her? Young women just made stuff up.
He carefully replaced the receiver.
CHAPTER 25
At this point in the story I lean back and sigh heavily.
I stare at the screen in despair. It's all my fault. I wanted to test Alvar and now I can see that he'll fail. So I imitate him. I get up and wander across the floor. I go over to the window and stare outside. I'm responsible; I have to get him through this. His despair is my despair, his shame is my shame, I don't know how it's going to end now. I begin to worry about his mental state and what he might end up doing, he has nowhere to go, no one who can help him. Yes, it was a difficult situation, but now he has made it worse, it's a disaster. The way things stand I don't see how he can avoid going to prison, and I don't think he can handle that. Then I think of his father who died at the age of fifty-three from a heart attack. I drift aimlessly through the rooms as I struggle to find a solution. Am I really omnipotent? That's not how it feels. There's only one way out, but I can't see it. How easy it is, I think, putting someone on a stage. Focusing a spotlight on them, getting them started, letting events unfold without a second thought. Suddenly you hit a wall and the audience waits expectantly like children, with their mouths hanging open waiting for the conclusion. I like to end my novels on a succinct, merciless remark.
My front door opens, I cease my restless wandering. I hear dragging footsteps in the hallway, a door slamming. Alvar Eide enters, grey-faced and with rings under his eyes. Without saying a word he collapses onto my sofa, then he slumps over the coffee table and hides his face in his hands. I watch him for a while as thoughts churn in my head. What does he need now, what am I going to say? He beats me to it. It's hard for me to make out what he's saying because his face is hidden.
'I can't find a way out. I'll have to kill myself.'
In the silence that follows I can feel my pulse throb in my throat. Alvar breathes heavily; he's rocking himself backwards and forwards. I'm standing there feeling I've been utterly cruel, but there is nothing else I can do.
'You can't,' I state calmly. 'Then there'll be no story.'
He does not reply. I go over to him, I place a hand on his shoulder.
'Marie,' I say. 'Marie who answered the helpline, she would have helped you. She would have told you what to do. But you didn't let her.'
I can hear some half-strangled sobs. I let myself fall into a chair, I watch his desperate figure and rack my brains for some words of hope and comfort.
'If I send someone to help you,' I ask him, 'will you let them?'
He finally looks up at me, he folds his hands on the table.
'As I see it,' he says, 'it's best that I remove myself from this earth once and for all. I can't handle this game, which life ultimately is, I don't understand the rules.'
'You can learn them,' I say, hurt.
He shakes his heavy head.
'I'm going to hook up a hose to the exhaust pipe and lie down in my car,' he groans. 'It'll be over in a few minutes.'
'Then you'll be letting down everyone who's followed you up until now,' I say, 'those who hope that you'll get through this.'
He looks at me darkly. 'Why should I care about them? I don't know them.'
'But they know you,' I reply, 'they've followed you every step of the way, you can't run off now.'
In the silence that follows I can hear the wind in the trees outside. A magpie lands on my veranda, it sits there bobbing its tail, a car drives past, the seconds tick away.
'I just want to sleep,' he says. 'It won't take very long and then I'll be gone.'
I sigh deeply at his words. 'Is that what you think will happen? You think you'll fall asleep and be dead in a few minutes?'
He looks up, he starts to waver. 'Exhaust fumes are very poisonous,' he says, 'I've always known that. I've heard they make you sleepy.'
I bite my lip. 'Yes, you're right. They're poisonous as well as deadly. But your death won't be that straightforward. It doesn't work like that.'
'Could it be simpler?' he asks, looking at me in disbelief. 'I'll be sitting in the car inhaling exhaust fumes, I'll sit very still with my hands in my lap.'
'You think you'll be able to sit completely still?'
He is growing more uncertain. He gives me a searching look.
'I'm not sure where you're going with this.'