The tires screeched angrily. He did a U-turn and almost hit a sign on the edge of the pavement. Then he roared off in the direction of the pub. Eva followed him with her eyes, then turned and walked back. She reached across the bed and carefully gripped the corner of the large pillow. And then she screamed.
It was a piercing sound from deep in her throat. Maja was staring at the ceiling with wide-open eyes, her fingers splayed on the counterpane. Eva backed away in horror and bumped into the bedside table, the large flamingo lamp wobbled precariously, and automatically she put out both hands to save it. She turned and ran to the window again, peered down into the empty street, which now was completely deserted, not a car, not a pedestrian was visible, but she heard a soft hum from the traffic a little further off. She ran back again, bent down and grabbed Maja’s shoulders, shook her hard, and watched as her mouth fell slightly open. Now she was lying there gaping. In despair, Eva looked around for a phone, but she couldn’t see one anywhere, rushed into the other room, searched on the bedside table, on the window ledge, came back, never thought about turning more lights on, and still couldn’t see a phone, just a shiny red model sports car on a shelf. That was the phone. She grabbed it, lifted the body, and was about to ring for help, but she couldn’t remember the number of the emergency services, the number had just changed, she’d heard it on the news, so she had to find a phone book and look there. Then she couldn’t find a phone book. She put back the receiver and dropped into a chair. She stared down at her red dressing gown and suddenly imagined the room crowded with uniformed police, photographers flashing away and her, sitting in a chair, naked beneath the red dressing gown, like any old whore.
Like a whore.
What would she say? That she’d been sitting watching from behind the door? Why didn’t I do anything? she wondered in amazement. Because it had all happened so fast. She’d been frightened of being discovered, frightened that his anger would turn against her instead. She’d been sure that Maja could handle the situation on her own. Maja, the professional. She got up suddenly and bolted into the other room. She found her own clothes and changed as rapidly as she could. She was listening for sounds the whole time, what if the doorbell suddenly rang and there was a new customer standing there — the thought made her run out and check that the door was locked. She couldn’t control her fingers, and doing up buttons was difficult. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Maja’s white feet the whole time. Nobody knows I’ve been here, she told herself, nobody except Maja. If anyone finds out, Jostein, or the police, or Child Welfare, they’ll take Emma away from me. I’ll run home and pretend it never happened. This has nothing to do with me or my life, I don’t belong here, in this velvet and plush apartment. She stumbled through the rooms and found her handbag, her long coat, then suddenly realized that her fingerprints must be everywhere. The idea brought her to a complete full stop. But as she wasn’t on any files, they couldn’t incriminate her. Or so she thought. She halted by the bed once more. She went right up to the headboard and bent down. There was a fly in the corner of Maja’s mouth. It walked across her cheek and settled in the corner of her eye, began to rub its long legs. Eva watched it despondently, tried to brush it away. But it kept on walking up her cheek and into the lower lashes, and finally, a little hesitantly, out on to her eyeball. There it stayed. It looked as if it sank slightly on to the eye.
Eva clapped her hand to her mouth and rushed out to the bathroom. She was violently sick, bending down far into the toilet bowl in an attempt not to make a mess. For a long while she remained there dribbling and panting. It left a rank, sour taste; she flushed the toilet, was about to get up to have a drink, when she suddenly slipped in her own vomit, fell forward and knocked her chin on the porcelain rim of the bowl. Her lower lip split. Her teeth dug into her tongue and the blood seeped out. Tears came. She mustn’t look at Maja any more, or she’d never get out. She pulled out several handfuls of toilet paper and began to wipe the floor. Some of it had splashed up the wall and down the pedestal of the toilet. She went on wiping and threw the tissue into the bowl, flushing occasionally so that it wouldn’t get blocked. But it did anyway, the blockage of wet tissue with her own vomit on it lodged in the bend of the toilet. She gave up, went to the washbasin and drank some water, tried to hold it in her mouth to stop the bleeding. Finally, she went back to the room again, stood with her back turned wondering how long Maja would lie like that before someone found her. Then she sat down again. The block was quiet, it was evening, she mustn’t be in too much of a hurry now. If anyone rang the bell, she must just keep still. She wondered if she could be convicted as an accessory to murder, because she’d just sat there and watched. If she phoned right away and told the whole story, right from their chance meeting in Glassmagasinet, would they believe her? She looked around at all the things Maja had collected. She’d had lavish taste and liked plenty of color. A great, strawberry-shaped tureen with the green leaves as the lid. It stood on a small table near the window. Eva got up slowly, she wasn’t quite sure where the thought came from, but she went to the window and carefully lifted the lid. It was full of notes. Quickly, she turned and looked at Maja. But, of course, she hadn’t seen anything. The roll of paper money was fat, it must have contained several thousand kroner. She looked about for other hiding places, caught sight of a blue and white vase with artificial roses in it, lifted the flowers and found another cache of money. A sewing box turned out to be crammed with money, then all at once she remembered the boots in the hall cupboard, went out into the little hall and opened it. She turned the three pairs of boots upside down and the money came tumbling out. Eva began to sweat heavily, she stuffed the money into her bag and continued searching. She found money in both bedside tables and in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Gradually, as she put money into her bag, her anger rose. She now avoided glancing at Maja’s corpse. Her friend had destroyed something in her life. She had revealed a side to her nature she didn’t know she had, a side she’d rather be without. It was Maja’s fault, and Maja didn’t need the money anymore. Her bag was now completely full of fifty-, hundred-, and thousand-kroner notes. She put her hand to her forehead and wiped away the sweat. The doorbell rang. She cowered in a corner, terrified at the thought that someone outside might be able to see her through the keyhole. Two short rings. That man out there would have been my first client, she thought, and held her breath, forcing herself against the wall. The bell rang again. Now she’d have to wait a while before leaving the apartment, she mustn’t be seen. She’d never been part of this, it had been an accident. At last she heard steps retreating down the stairs. She heard the front door bang and glanced at the time. It was a quarter to nine. Then she looked at Maja for the last time. She wasn’t so pretty now, something about her gaping mouth and staring eyes. “It’s your fault,” Eva sobbed. Then she waited, stiff as a board for exactly five minutes, standing with her back to the corpse and counting the seconds. Finally, cautiously, she opened the door and crept out.
She met no one in the stairwell. The air was dark and dank when she slipped out of the front door and turned to the left. Not to the right past the King’s Arms. She turned left again by the Methodist church, passed the Esso service station, turned left at the Gjensidige Forsiking insurance company building, and walked along the river until she came to the roundabout. Her tongue felt numb and painful, but the bleeding had stopped. She clutched her bag tightly to her. She continued up the hill at a steady pace, she kept her head down and was careful not to look at anyone, she mustn’t walk too quickly, no one must witness a woman hurrying away along these streets, on this evening, at just this hour, and so she sauntered. There’s nothing suspicious about a woman ambling through town, she thought. It was only when she’d reached the bridge that she broke into a run.