“That’s what you always say when you don’t know the answer.”
“But it’s true. In any case you can ask your teacher. Teachers know a lot more than me.”
“I don’t think so.”
An empty plastic container came sailing rapidly toward them.
“I want it! You got to get it for me!”
“Yuck no, leave it alone, it’s only rubbish. I’m cold, Emma, can’t we go home soon?”
“In a little while.” Emma pushed her hair behind her ears and rested her chin on her knees, but the hair was coarse and unruly, it sprang forward again. “Is it very deep?” She nodded toward the middle of the river.
“No, not particularly,” said Eva quietly, “eight or nine meters, I should think.”
“That’s really, really deep.”
“No, it’s not. The deepest place in the world is in the Pacific Ocean,” she said musingly. “Some sort of hollow. It’s eleven thousand meters deep. That’s what I call really, really deep.”
“I wouldn’t like to go swimming there. You know everything, Mom, I don’t think teachers know all that. I’d like a pink school bag,” she went on.
Eva shivered. “Mmm,” she said. “They are pretty. But they get dirty awfully quickly. I think those brown ones are nice, those brown leather ones, have you seen them? Like the bigger children have?”
“I’m not big. I’m only just starting school.”
“Yes, but you’ll get bigger, and you can’t have a new bag every year.”
“But we’ve got more money now, haven’t we?”
Eva didn’t reply. The question made her shoot a quick glance over her shoulder, a habit she’d formed. Emma found a stick and poked it into the water.
“Why is there froth in the water?” she continued. “Nasty, yellow froth.” She whipped it a bit with her stick. “Shall I ask at school?”
Eva still didn’t answer. She, too, had her chin on her knees, her thoughts had wandered away again, and Emma had receded into the corner of her eye. The river brought back memories. Now she could see a face shimmering under the dark water. A round face with narrowed eyes and black brows.
“Lie down on the bed, Eva.”
“What?”
“Just do as I say, lie down on the bed.”
“Can we go to McDonald’s?” Emma asked suddenly.
“What? Yes, why not. We’ll go to McDonald’s, at least it’s warm there.”
She rose, slightly distractedly, and took the child by the arm. Shook her head and stared down into the river. The face had vanished now, there was nothing there, but she knew it would return, perhaps to haunt her for the rest of her days. They climbed up to the path and set off slowly back toward the town. They didn’t meet a soul.
Eva felt her thoughts running wild, pursuing their own course and arriving in places she’d rather forget. The roar of the river conjured up a host of images. She had waited for them to fade, to find peace at last. And time had passed. One day at a time had turned into six months.
“Can I have a Happy Meal with a present? It’s thirty-seven kroner and I haven’t got Aladdin.”
“Yes.”
“What’ll you have, Mom? Chicken?”
“Not sure yet.” She stared at the black water again; the thought of food was nauseating. She didn’t bother with food much. Now she noticed how the surface rose and fell, under the dirty yellow scum.
“Now we’ve got more money, we can eat whatever we want, can’t we, Mom?”
Eva kept quiet. All at once she stopped and strained her eyes. Something pale had floated up just beneath the surface of the water. It rocked sluggishly as it was pushed toward the bank by the powerful eddy. Her eyes were so taken up with watching that she’d forgotten the girl, who had also halted and who could see far better than her mother.
“It’s a man!” Emma gasped. She clamped herself hard onto Eva’s arm, her eyes popping out of her head. For a few moments they stood transfixed, staring at the sodden, decomposed body as it floated, head first, in among the stones. He was lying face-down. The hair on the back of his head was thin and they could make out a bald patch. Eva was oblivious to the nails digging in through her sweater, she looked at the waxen-colored corpse with its matted blond hair and couldn’t remember seeing him before. But his trainers — those blue and white striped high-top trainers.
“It’s a man,” Emma repeated, more quietly now.
Eva wanted to cry out. The cry came forcing its way up her throat but never emerged. “He’s drowned. Poor man, he’s drowned, Emma!”
“Why does he look so horrible? Almost like jelly!”
“Because,” she stammered, “because it happened some time ago.” She bit her lip so hard she pierced it. The taste of blood made her sway.
“Have we got to lift him up?”
“No, don’t be silly! The police do that.”
“Are you going to phone them?”
Eva put her arm around the girl’s chubby shoulders and stumbled along the path. She looked back again quickly, as if waiting for some attack, yet uncertain from which direction it would come. There was a phone box on the approach to the bridge, so she hauled the child after her and searched in her skirt pockets for change. She found a five-kroner piece. The sight of the partially decomposed man flashed before her like an ill omen, an omen of all that was to come. She had managed to calm down at last, time had settled upon everything like dust and made the nightmare pale. Now her heart was hammering beneath her sweater, completely out of control. Emma was silent. She followed her mother with frightened gray eyes and halted.
“Wait here. I’ll ring and tell them to come and fetch him. Don’t move!”
“We’ll wait for them, won’t we?”
“No, we certainly won’t!”
She pushed into the box, trying to control her panic. An avalanche of thoughts and ideas rushed through her head, but she dismissed each of them in turn. Then she made a quick decision. Her hands were clammy, she inserted the five-kroner piece into the slot and dialed a number with swift fingers. Her father answered, groggy, as if he’d been asleep.
“It’s only me, Eva,” she whispered. “Did I wake you?”
“Yes, but it was high time. Soon I’ll be sleeping all round the clock. Is something the matter?” he growled. “You’re het up. I can hear that you’re het up, I know you.”
His voice was dry and hoarse, but there was still a keenness to it, a keenness which she’d always loved. A sharpness that rooted her fast to reality.
“No, nothing’s wrong. Emma and I were going out to eat and we found this phone box.”
“Well, put her on then!”
“Er, well, she’s down by the water.”
She watched the numbers on the display counting down, threw a quick glance at Emma, who was pressed against the glass of the door. Her nose was squashed flat like a lump of marzipan. Could she hear what they were saying?
“I haven’t got a lot of change. We’ll come and visit you one day soon. If you’d like.”
“Why are you whispering like that?” he demanded suspiciously.
“Am I?” she said a little louder.
“Give my girl a hug. I’ve got something for her when she comes.”
“What’s that?”
“A school bag. She needs a school bag for the autumn, eh? I thought I’d save you the expense, things aren’t all that easy for you.”
If only he’d known. She said: “That was kind of you, Dad, but she’s pretty sure about what she wants. Can we change it?”
“Yes of course, but I bought the bag they said I should. A pink leather one.”
Eva forced her voice to sound normal. “I’ll have to go, Dad, the money’s run out. Look after yourself!” There was a click, and he was gone. The numbers on the display had stopped.
Emma looked at her expectantly. “Are they coming now?”