Jo glances across. A woman in a thin dress sitting with her back to them. Her hair is darker than engine oil. Next to her a powerfully built man, and at the end of the table a boy about Nini’s age. Family. Having breakfast together. Got an extra place out on that blistering hot terrace. Someone could go over to that table and start smashing at it with a sledgehammer.
– The others’ll be here any moment, Jo manages to blurt out. – I need to find places for all of us.
– Wanna play beach footie afterwards?
Daniel doesn’t give up, stands there waiting for him to say something. It mustn’t happen now, he hears the thought race through him. Not right in front of Daniel and his family and a pack of staring faces. He spots a vacant table and makes his way over to it. It hasn’t been cleared after the last guests. Plates with bits of egg, bacon fat, and grape pips in a serviette. Coffee dregs in the cups. Truls arrives with Nini trailing behind. Jo orders him to clear the table. Goes and fetches a huge bowl of cornflakes for Nini.
– I want Honni-Korn, she protests.
– You’ll take what you’re given, he growls, and for once she realises there’s no point in complaining any more. – Look here, four spoonfuls of sugar. That’ll taste good.
Truls laughs loudly. He’s managed to fix himself up with fried potatoes, bacon and a whole lot of ketchup.
– This place is cool, he says happily.
Jo chews down a slice of bread and jam. He keeps an eye on the table where Daniel’s family are sitting. The mother gets up and heads towards the exit. She’s slim, and the black dress clings to her. Reminds Jo of a film star whose name he can’t recall. The father has finished too, but sits there listening to something Daniel is talking about. He has curls on the back of his neck and looks like he does a lot of training with weights.
The girl he’s been waiting for comes in, accompanied by the fat, fair-haired one. They hang their bathing towels up by a table just inside the open sliding doors, not far from Daniel’s. They pass by less than two metres away on their way to the buffet. Jo doesn’t look at her, but she looks at him, he’s certain of it. Jacket advised him not to show too much interest. And then suddenly strike. Jo is massively relieved he’s alone there with Truls and Nini. Maybe the girl hasn’t seen him with Mother and Arne. Maybe she doesn’t have to know about them at all.
Less than three minutes later, she’s heading back, carrying a tray. She’s just been swimming; her bikini makes a wet patch on her bottom. It’s the one with the hearts on, Jo can see that through the thin yellow skirt she’s wearing, the one that was hanging to dry on the balcony the day before. Her name is Ylva, Ylva Richter. If Jacket is to be believed. Why shouldn’t he believe Jacket? He’s funny and he’s famous. And for some reason or other, interested in what interests Jo. Jo looks round to see if Jacket is there. But it strikes him that Jacket isn’t the type to take an early breakfast. More the type to sit up all night smoking and reading over and over again poems about drowned Phoenicians.
Before Jo has finished his first slice of bread, Ylva stands up. Between the yellow skirt and an even shorter top, her stomach is visible. She has a ring in her navel. Jo has never seen that before. He can’t stop himself from staring at it. And beneath the top her breasts jig up and down when she walks. He forces himself to look away. Girls don’t like it if you slobber over them, Jacket might have said.
As she disappears around the corner, Jo gets up. – Stay here with Nini.
– Where are you going?
– Toilet. You don’t go anywhere, got that?
Truls chews away on a stub of sausage and doesn’t look to be in any hurry at all.
– Back in a few minutes, Jo calls over his shoulder.
He leans forward and peers at the neighbouring balcony. The door is closed and the curtain drawn. But she’s in there, he doesn’t doubt it for a moment. All quiet in the bedroom. Can’t even hear Arne snoring. Maybe his heart’s stopped; maybe he’s lying in bed blue in the face, with his fat tongue poking out of his gob. Maybe he’s turned over in his drunken stupor and smothered Mother as well. In that case Jo will have to take Truls and Nini and leave there. Sit next to Ylva on the plane. You can live with me, she says. What about Truls and Nini? he asks. I have to take care of them. They’ve got no one else. She leans up against him. My parents can adopt them. They’ll be well looked after.
He does it without any more thought. Sneaks out, over to the neighbouring door. Knocks. No answer. Is he maybe not meant to speak to her? Knocks again. Suddenly shuffling footsteps inside.
– Who is it?
Ylva’s voice. He’s struck again by something he noticed at the pool the other day. She has a sort of Bergen accent. The thick way she rolls her rs. Bergen or somewhere round there. He feels a desire to say her name, but controls himself.
– It’s me… I live next door.
She opens up. She’s wearing a tank top and shorts. A towel round her head, like a turban.
– Hi, says Jo.
– Hi?
– I live next door, he says again.
– Yeah?
She says it as though she’s never seen him before. I live next door, he’s about to say for the third time. Can I come in?
Sit on their sofa. Hold her hand. The look in her eyes doesn’t suggest anything like that.
– Can I borrow a tin opener? he says, rescuing himself, relieved at how natural it sounds. Tin openers are things anyone might need, any time. A common thing to borrow from a neighbour.
– Tin opener? She glances towards the kitchen. – Let’s see if we have one.
She pushes the door to. Doesn’t ask him in. No wonder, considering how surprised she was.
Next moment she’s back again, holding out a metal thing, a combination bottle opener and tin opener, with a corkscrew you fold out. Exactly like the one that was in their own kitchen drawer when they arrived and which is now on Mother’s bedside table.
Suddenly he feels brave. Looks into her eyes for a long time. They’re brown, with black flecks.
– Be right back, he says, and turns away.
– No rush, Ylva says. – You can bring it back later.
He stands there in the half-dark of the kitchen and squeezes the opener in his hand, the little point against his palm. He presses it so far down it goes through the skin and the pain shoots up through his fingers.
Then he hears Mother’s voice from the bedroom. Snuffling and full of sleep. Next moment she emerges stark naked on her way to the toilet. He slips back out into the light. Ylva’s bathroom window is open. Maybe she’s standing in front of the mirror. Combing her long wet hair. He knocks again. This time she opens straight away, without asking who it is.
– Finished already? she says with a little smile.
– Tin of tuna, he explains, couldn’t think of anything else. – Nice place, he adds quickly, because he can see she’s about to close the door again.
– Very, she says.
– Good beach, he says.
She nods. – I’m going down in a minute. Just need to get ready first.
He feels his face prickle. What she says is nearly Shall we meet down on the beach? He raises a hand to touch her, can’t bring himself to, rubs his lip.
– See you, he says.
She raises her eyebrows, mostly the right one, he notices.
– Sure… yeah, she says, and closes the door.
He stands outside her door and realises he has forgotten to give her the tin opener. She forgot too. Too busy talking to him. But it would be a mistake to knock again. Jacket would advise against, Jo feels certain of that. Instead he puts the opener in his pocket; it gives him the chance to go back later. He jogs away. The cats are still there in the little playground with the swing and the slide. Some slinking round, some climbing the trees. The one-eyed creep is by itself over by the fence. Jo lets himself in. The creep recognises him, slinks across and starts to rub itself against his bare leg. The fur is scruffy but still feels soft. The pitiful little thing looks up at him with its one eye and gives a complaining meow, like maybe it’s asking for something. He wants to do something or other with it. Not sure what. Lift it up and feel the fur against his cheek. Feel with his finger inside the empty space below the eyelid. Squeeze this kitten so hard it stops its whining.