– Christ, you’re so naïve, Liss sighed.
Rikke twisted the remains of her cigarette in the bottom of the ashtray. The sound was like footsteps through wet snow.
– He still talks about you, she said. – Wants you back. Seems completely obsessed.
Two things were obvious to Liss. One was that Rikke was there on behalf of Zako. The other was that every bloody word would be reported back to him. That was why she replied: – I’m sure you’re right about that. Types like Zako get like rabid dogs when someone denies them something they think is rightfully theirs. I had to tell him that I don’t give a shit about his whole act.
Without hesitation she added: – That’s the only language he understands.
3
Friday 12 December
IT WAS COLD in the studio. She’d mentioned it as soon as she arrived, but Wim said it was supposed to be like that. So that her nipples would be stiff under the soft material of the bra. He was well wrapped up in a padded combat jacket.
Liss crossed her legs and leant in towards the camera.
– Not like that, Wim groaned. – It looks like you need a piss.
– That’s exactly what I need, she answered without changing her expression.
– Hold that. Right there, the hip out to the side. Let the bra strap slip down your shoulder… shit, that’s it… nearly.
Her trousers were tossed away over by the wall, but for the third time since arriving she heard the phone vibrating in her pocket. Wim had insisted she turn off the ringtone before they started. A real artist, she thought meanly.
– Hello, Wim yelled. – Planet earth calling Miss Liss. You look totally vacant. Get that hip out to the side, let’s see the elastic of your knickers. Yes, that’s exactly what I told you, not your hip bone, the edge of your knickers, that’s what I want, come over here, yes, arms by your sides, follow me, imagine you’re going to stamp on me, like that, yes. Piss, you said; imagine you’re trampling on me and pissing on me, yes, there’s the look I’ve been waiting for all day. Follow me now, hate me, imagine you’ve got me on the ground, do what you want with me.
She shuddered at the thought of having Wim lying on the floor beneath her. Of him wriggling out of his leather trousers and lying there with his dick in the air. And she was supposed to try to look as if this was an image that would make her feel horny. The only thing she felt was how badly she needed a piss.
– I really just have to have one minute on the toilet, she said, and straightened up.
– Can’t you hold on? You must have a bladder the size of a mouse’s.
He sniggered; he liked to talk about her body, mostly what was inside it. But he was the best she’d worked with. And he wouldn’t start groping her. Even if she never met Zako again, Wim knew he’d get his liver punched up into his throat if he ever tried it on.
She grabbed her jeans, slipped into the toilet and groaned with relief when she was able to open up and let it flow freely. At least three litres.
Afterwards she took the phone out of her pocket. She was startled when it vibrated again, like a little animal that woke at her touch. For the third time that day the unknown number showed up in her display. It started with the Norwegian prefix: 0047. She gave in and answered.
– Liss? This is Viljam.
– Viljam? she said, almost dismissively, even though she knew who he was.
– I’ve never met you, he explained. – But I’m sure Mailin has talked about us.
Of course Mailin had talked about him. They’d been a couple for more than two years. Liss had heard his name mentioned many times but had never taken the trouble to remember it. For some reason or other she didn’t like the thought of her sister living with someone.
– Are you in Amsterdam?
He was well spoken. Liss knew he’d studied law and was about the same age as her.
– Why do you ask? She didn’t want to continue the conversation, but understood there had to be a reason why the guy was calling. Why he’d called three times. The first time at six in the morning. Suddenly she felt a damp chill across her whole body. She looked in the mirror; her pupils were distended. You are not afraid, she thought. You are never afraid, Liss Bjerke.
– Did you call early this morning? Is it about Mailin?
Viljam didn’t answer at first, and that cold chill fastened itself tighter around her. She slumped down on to the toilet seat. She’d had a message from her sister the previous afternoon, one she didn’t understand, or didn’t want to understand. She had deliberately not called back.
– I don’t know, he said finally. – She talked about getting in touch with you yesterday. There was something she wanted to ask about.
– What do you mean?
Liss could hear the anger in her voice. She started to shiver. She didn’t want to hear what was about to be said. Anything else she could stand. Just not this.
– She hasn’t come home, he said. He was still hesitant. – She’s been gone since yesterday evening.
So she’s probably broken up with you, Liss might have said, but Mailin wasn’t like that. Liss could do it, suddenly do a runner if she got fed up with someone, and say nothing. But not Mailin.
– We didn’t quarrel, Viljam said, perhaps guessing the direction of her thoughts. She could hear that he was struggling to keep his voice calm. – We’ve been getting on better than ever.
Liss clicked to the message from her sister the day before. On my way from the cabin. Always think of you when I’m out there. And then, rather cryptically: Keep Midsummer’s Day free next year. Call you tomorrow.
– She was out at the cabin, she said. – She may well have gone back out there.
Liss could see her sister sitting on the cabin steps and looking down towards Morr Water. It was their place, they owned it jointly. Their father had wanted the two of them to have it, and no one else. It was all they had to remind them of him.
– We went out there and looked for her, Viljam answered. – She wasn’t there. She was supposed to be on a TV programme yesterday but never showed up, and no one’s seen her…
Zako is a shit; it flashed through Liss. He can’t have done something like this. I’ll kill him.
– What can I do? she managed to say. – I’m over a thousand miles away.
She fumbled at the keys to cut off the call; she had to find somewhere she could be on her own.
At the other end, her sister’s partner was breathing heavily. – We called the police last night. They asked me to come in and make a statement. I wanted to talk to you first. Find out if she called you. She said she was going to.
The light in the tiny space around Liss changed, began to force its way into things, the mirror, the basin, pulling away from her. – If Mailin disappears, then I disappear too, she murmured.
Wim was using his mobile when she returned. He pointed to a spot below the skylight where he obviously wanted her to pose. She remained standing outside the toilet door, fiddling with her own phone. No calls from Mailin. Just three from her mother she hadn’t answered. She slid down the wall, the rough surface scraping her naked back. Sat there chewing on a cigarette. There were two messages from her mother. She called voicemail. The first: Hi, Liss, it’s Mum. It’s Thursday evening, twenty-three forty-three. Can you ring me as soon as you get this message. It’s important. To the point, as always. But the voice sounded frail. Liss could hardly face listening to the next message, but she had to. It was from this morning. Liss, it’s Mum again. You must call me. It’s about Mailin.
She had bitten straight through the filter. Wim was standing over her, talking. Something about time passing, something about a meter; he wasn’t cheap, and here she sat helping herself to his time as though he was a nigger eunuch. She got dressed and muttered something about an accident. Obviously he believed her, because suddenly he stopped talking and contented himself with a shake of the head.