“Tell me about the last job,” Bonnie said. “Was it dramatic?”
“It certainly was, but they always are. We had to pick up someone with burn injuries from Ringstad. A man, fifty-something; it was bad. Third-degree burns all over his body as a result of an explosion in his garage. He was conscious when we carried him out to the helicopter. He even had the strength to make a joke. I sat beside him on the way to the burn unit at Haukeland Hospital. The doctors can fix pretty much anything, he said, and put on a brave face. And I had to humor him and pretend nothing was wrong. I knew that he wouldn’t survive with all those burns.”
“What?” Bonnie said, horrified. “Is he dead?”
“He only lived for a few hours. Left behind a wife, four children, and three grandchildren. There’s something about men, they’re always a bit lax when it comes to safety. We see it all the time at New Year’s with the fireworks — always a few fingers lost.”
She topped up Bonnie’s glass. “Now, what about you? How much time are you getting off at Christmas?”
“Fourteen days,” Bonnie said happily. “Heaven! How about you?”
“I’m going to work. It doesn’t bother me, though. Jens will sort everything out at home.”
“You’re so strong.”
“Yes,” Britt said, “I am, but so are you. And I know you hate it when I say this, but I think you should find yourself a man. Simon needs a father figure; all boys do.”
“So you think I should go out on the town, then?” Bonnie said. “And who’s going to look after Simon when I’m out there flirting?”
Britt had to smile. “Don’t be silly, we’ve got the Internet now. Everyone seems to find their partners that way these days. There’s no shame in it.”
“That’s not what I mean; I just haven’t had a good experience. Remember?”
“Not everyone is like Olav,” Britt said. “Maybe it’s time you got over him. I’m sorry for saying it, but there are good men out there. I found one.”
“I know,” Bonnie assured her. “You’re lucky. You haven’t been through what I have.”
She got up and cleared the table and put on some coffee. Then they sat on the sofa and chatted until midnight. There was a thin layer of fresh snow on the red Volvo when she followed Britt out to the car.
“Call me if there’s anything,” Britt urged and gave her a hug. “I can look after Simon if you want to go out and flirt.”
“You’ve got three of your own. It would be better to avail of my mother.”
“Remember what I said,” Britt insisted. “I’ve got a husband, and when I ask him to, he looks after the children. Because he always does what I say.”
Bonnie tiptoed into the bedroom and switched off the light. Simon was sleeping deeply and had kicked off the comforter. She pulled it over him gently and then started to think about tomorrow. The wine had made her sleepy. Christmas soon. She had to do everything she could to make those days as special as possible. Simon was so excited about it he could hardly sit still. And she hoped there wouldn’t be too much snow, because then she would have to clear it, which was heavy work. Her back ached enough as it was from all the cleaning. She got into her own bed, turned toward the wall, and fell asleep, her worries running out like sand in an hourglass.
Simon was standing there, pulling at her comforter. It surprised her, since she was always the first one up. But the wine had made her heavy and tired. Simon buried his nose in her neck and smelled the lovely perfume from the night before. He was excited because he had been in the kitchen and the two presents were lying side by side on the countertop. There was also a big Tupperware dish that he hadn’t seen before. Bonnie threw the comforter to the side and got up. She went into the bathroom to get dressed. Simon stood in the doorway and waited. When she was ready, they went into the kitchen. She spotted the two presents that she had forgotten to hide. She gave Simon a stern look.
“You haven’t touched them, have you?” she asked, pretending to be strict.
“Just a little bit,” Simon mumbled guiltily. “They’re very hard.”
Bonnie had to laugh. She gave the little one a squeeze; it was a box. Then she climbed up on a chair and hid the presents away on the top shelf where Simon couldn’t reach them.
“What’s in the Tupperware?” he asked, pointing.
“Some food that Britt brought. There’s plenty left, so you’ll get it for supper. It’s good.”
She made him some porridge, as she always did, and he was strangely calm. Not as reluctant as he normally was when he was going to daycare. He remembered what Britt had said, that without money there would be no Christmas. He sprinkled sugar on his porridge. His fair hair was getting long at the neck. She should really take him to the hairdresser, Bonnie thought. But he had such lovely hair that maybe it should be left to grow. Her mother thought differently. She said it made him look like a girl.
“What are you and Märta going to do today, then?” she asked in an enthusiastic voice to bolster the boy’s mood, which was such an improvement from normal.
“Märta’s gone to the Canaries,” he said, his mouth full of porridge. “They’re swimming.”
“Is that Gran Canaria?” Bonnie asked. “I’m sure it’s nice there.”
“Can we go sometime?”
“Maybe. When we can afford it. It costs a lot of money to go there.” She felt a pang in her heart when she thought of all the things she would never be able to give him.
They put on their coats and went out into the snow, which had obviously fallen heavily overnight. The sight of the drifts by the driveway made her anxious. She strapped Simon into the back seat and brushed the snow off the roof of the car. Then she got in and started the engine. Just as she feared, the wheels spun and went nowhere. Three times she pressed the accelerator, but the car just sank deeper into the snow. She put her forehead to the wheel and groaned in desperation.
“I can push,” Simon piped up from the back seat, undoing his seat belt.
“No,” she said. “That won’t work. We’ll have to think of something else.”
She got out of the car to have a look and it wasn’t good. Maybe she could put something under the wheels, but what on earth would that be? Some planks would have done the trick, but she didn’t have any. Disheartened, she looked up the road as the seconds ticked by. Then suddenly she had an idea and disappeared into the house. She had two rag rugs in the hall, which she now rolled up and carried outside. Simon looked on from the back seat. He didn’t like it when his mother was upset; it scared him. Bonnie unrolled the rugs and put them down in front of the wheels. She tucked them under as well as she could and then got back in. She said a silent prayer and put the car in gear. She could feel immediately that there was traction, but it wasn’t enough. Twice she tried, but the rag rugs were just pushed away, so she got out of the car again. She got the shovel that was on the step and bent down and pushed the rugs as far as she could under the tires. She used all the strength she had, swearing and cursing to herself. She threw the shovel down on the snow and tried again. It worked on the third attempt and she whooped with relief.
Once she’d dropped Simon off at daycare, she drove at top speed to Jørgen’s tiny apartment. Jørgen was a small round man but was in good shape. His cheeks were incredibly smooth and he had lovely thick hair, and was always immaculately dressed in pants and a shirt. He got up at five every morning and made breakfast, and he cooked himself a warm meal every afternoon. He went to bed at around eight, after the news, and as far as Bonnie knew, he always slept well. Jørgen had a daughter who was seventy-five, who was now in a home. She had dementia and needed around-the-clock care. Every Friday he went to visit her. He took a taxi both ways and sometimes brought flowers that she didn’t even notice. Jørgen had eight siblings, but they were all long since dead.