It was six months since she had last seen her sister. Mailin had visited her in Amsterdam in the early summer. She’d been attending a conference. Something about child abuse. Something she was researching and she delivered a paper on. She stayed on for a few days afterwards. Liss had shown her the town. Taken her along to the school and to one of the photographic studios where she’d done a few jobs. But most things she kept from her big sister. Nothing about the parties and the coke. And she’d been careful to keep Zako out of the way. Didn’t want him to meet Mailin. Two worlds that had to be kept separated. They didn’t belong together, couldn’t exist simultaneously. And yet still the question from Mailin as Liss was driving her to the airport.
What’s to become of you, Liss?
It hit her so hard she couldn’t even get angry. Nothing’s going to become of me, she could have answered. That was her victory over everything she’d run away from. Over the life she would never live.
Mailin didn’t give up.
Remember what I said to you last time I fetched you from Central Police Station?
Liss had been picked up several times in the last years before she left. Mailin agreed that the war in Iraq was repellent, and had shuffled about dutifully in a few of these lawful demonstrations where everything was very decorous and proper. That wasn’t enough for Liss. She was part of a group of activists that marched on the American embassy and objected to being headed off by the police. In their anger they threw bottles and stones. Several in the group were willing to go even further and give their attackers a taste of their own dirty medicine. D’you think it does any more good than peaceful protesting? Mailin wanted to know. The way she looked at it, she was working from the inside. It was one of the rare things that made Liss angry with her. If you were on the inside, you were on the side of power, or at the very best a useful idiot. Mailin wouldn’t budge: This business of fighting with the police is all about finding a superior power that is strong enough, then challenging it in order to get beaten up, which simply confirms how evil everything is. Time and again Liss demanded that she stop interferring and mind her own business. And yet, no matter what she got up to, she knew Mailin would never let her go.
In the car on the way out to Schiphol she said:
I worry that you’re still doing the same thing as when you sat down in the middle of the road and waited for the police to come charging at you. You find someone who is sufficiently brutal and ruthless, so you can fight and get beaten up.
You’ve never met him, Liss protested.
She’d managed to keep Zako away, but her sister had had a long talk with Rikke. And Mailin didn’t need much to form a picture.
Rikke’ll say just about anything at all, Liss insisted. She’ll do anything for the chance to go to bed with him.
Mailin didn’t say any more. Every week through the autumn they spoke on the phone, but she never asked about Zako or the life Liss was leading in Amsterdam. Probably waiting for Liss to bring it up. Mailin had always waited for her.
What’s to become of you, Liss?
It was quarter past four by the time Liss was finished in the bathroom. She went out without eating. Not that she had any food there anyway. Unlocked the bicycle in a corner behind the basement steps, carried it up and out on to the street. There was a smell of fresh bread from the bakery on the corner. The window was full of cheesecakes, doughnuts and pretzels. For a moment she stopped to inhale the smell, pleased that she didn’t feel tempted to buy something, give in to the need to fill her mouth with something soft and crumbly.
She followed Haarlemmerdijk, turned into Prinsengraacht. After days of rain whipping in from the sea in the north, the December afternoon was still raw, but colder, with light piercing through rifts in the clouds, making the fissures glow with a piercing blueness. The sky changed the whole time, still clearing, and smoke rose from the chimneys of the houseboats along the canal. Suddenly she was filled with a strange exhilaration. She pedalled harder. Could have stopped here, stopped time, frozen this picture of the withered flowers in their pots along the banks of the canal, the bright clouds overhead and the silhouette of Westerkerk forcing its way up into them. One day she might look back on this bike ride, this glimpse of something she was in the middle of yet which was also out of reach for her. But it was hard to see herself ever getting old enough to look back. She had long ago decided that she was made for a short life. Liked to joke about it. Rikke would say she was a melancholic, but that wasn’t true: she never remained in a mood long enough to warrant any particular description. All the same, she had a clear image of her own death. She goes out to the cabin. The only place in Norway she misses. Out in the forest, close to Morr Water. It’s winter. The snow is quite dry; it crackles under her boots. She passes the rock where they used to dive in the summer. Carries on round the bank of the frozen winter water. Turns away, heading down towards the moor. Finds the place where she is to lie down. The sky between the treetops is clear and dark like coloured glass as she lets go and drifts slowly down into the embracing cold… The thought comforted her when she needed it. She had made arrangements with herself about how the end would be. Felt a faint pang of grief at the thought of it. That was where her strength came from.
At Saloon, she dismounted, leaned the bike up against the wall and sat at the table closest to the canal. Several of the letters in the café sign had gone out since the last time she had been there.
Tobi appeared, carrying an empty tray. He bent and allowed himself to be kissed once on each cheek.
– Time for a coffee, he announced.
She could have used a drink, something to bring her down, but she ordered a double espresso and took out her mobile and a packet of Marlboros.
– Saw you on a poster at Nieuwe Zijde, he winked. – Gorgeous.
Rikke arrived in a taxi.
– Can’t sit out here, she shivered. – I’m no fairy snow queen like you.
They found a table inside.
– He doesn’t want me to see you, Rikke confided.
Liss raised her eyebrows. – And what are you going to do about that?
Rikke pulled a menu over. – No way I’m letting myself be controlled like that. There are limits.
– Have you been doing his escort stuff?
Rikke’s mobile gave off a long-drawn-out sigh, downloaded from a site offering tropical animal noises. She read the message and punched in an answer.
– Tried it at the weekend, she said once she was finished. – Arranged a party for these fantastically wealthy businessmen. Quite okay if it hadn’t been for the Russians.
Liss lit up a cigarette and clouded the space between them with smoke.
– Do they expect you to have sex with them?
Rikke thought about it. – No one makes you.
Liss leaned across to her. – I’ve known Zako over a year, she said. – First off he tried to persuade me it was about love and relationships and all that. Nothing was too much trouble for him. It took a while for me to realise what his real game is.
– You’re exaggerating, said Rikke. – He lets you have the choice.
Liss laughed mirthlessly. – As long as it’s the same as his.
– You’re saying that because you’re angry with him.
– Get a grip, Rikke. He’s got you where he wants you. Soon you won’t be able to break out any more. Do you owe him money?
– Not a lot.
– More than a thousand?
Rikke looked round. – Less than ten. I think.