Suddenly Oswald appeared in the door opening. His lower jaw jutted so profoundly that he drooled from the corners of his mouth.
– Oswald catch bear.
He thumped himself on the chest, and the bitterness in Åse Berit’s face dissolved and faded away.
– Yes, you could, Oswald, big and strong as you are.
Turning to Signy she said: – He’s a lovely lad, is Oswald. But he has his black moments. Best to leave him alone then. It’s to do with the way he was brought up.
– What do you mean? Signy wanted to know.
– He didn’t have an easy time of it, poor soul, Åse Berit confided. – Not until he was taken into care. Oswald’s father was a nasty piece of work, right from the word go. And you can trust me, because I went to primary school with him. You would never catch me getting mixed up with someone like that. There’s others’ll tell you the same thing.
She tossed her head.
– He ended up with some city girl that turned up out here. But then she found someone else and off she went and left him to look after the kids, and the whole thing just went to pieces. He lost the farm, had it sold out from underneath his feet. He took the kids with him and moved out into the woods, to a cabin they owned up there. Left them to run wild while he sat drinking down in Holtet with another boozer and drank away what little bit of brains he had left.
– But wouldn’t Oswald have got lost in the woods?
– No, because listen to what his father did. He partitioned off the cellar under the cabin with a wire fence, and he used to lock Oswald in there before he went away.
Signy’s eyes opened wide. Bad enough hearing about Tora and her drug addict mother, but this was even worse.
– It’s not true, is it? Locked up in the cellar? Like a beast?
– That’s why we shouldn’t get in his way when he has these moods. We just don’t know what’s going on in the heads of people like that. Do we, Oswald?
Oswald gave a bright smile and continued to beat his chest.
– Oswald catch bear.
21
Thursday 11 October
THE SEAT NEAREST the door in the half-full underground carriage was vacant and Axel was able to lean his cycle up next to him. The weather had cleared, the temperature had risen, and even with the slight damp in the air it felt like summer. Like a gift to those longing for the sun, and a reminder for climate pessimists.
He cycled in the forest every Thursday, switching to skis in the winter months. It was a breathing space in the middle of the week he always looked forward to. But today would be a little different from his usual day off. He avoided thinking about it, took a copy of Dagbladet from his rucksack and by the time they reached his station had glanced through it. The bear case continued to dominate the front pages. A couple of days ago it was reported that all witnesses were going to be interviewed again, but so far he had heard nothing. The head of the Violent Crimes section of the Oslo police, Finckenhagen her name was, had made a statement to the press. The case was being given top priority, she told reporters, without making it clear whether or not the police believed a bear was on the loose in the immediate vicinity of the capital. But there was nothing urging people to avoid walking in the marka alone.
Lower down the page there was a fact box. The last confirmed sighting of bears in the Nordmarka had been over fifty years ago, Axel read, although signs had been seen towards the end of the nineties. The maximum life span for a bear in the Scandinavian wilds was in the region of 25 to 30 years. A fully grown bear could reach anywhere between 150 and 280 centimetres in height and weigh between 100 and 350 kilos. Then came a few pointers about what to do when encountering a bear. Don’t try to run away from it; the animal is capable of running at 60 kilometres an hour. Turn your back and flee in panic and you’ll be taken for prey. Trees don’t make a good hiding place; young bears are excellent climbers, older bears can if they have to. Keep calm, move slowly away backwards. Don’t try to scare the bear away. Thanks for the advice, Axel grinned, and turned the page.
Interviews with members of the public, questions about whether they were afraid of bears. The paper stressed that life went on as normal in the capital. As though anyone had thought it wouldn’t, Axel sighed to himself. The journalist had spent the evening at El Coco’s in Rosencrantz’ gate, where they were advertising a section of the bar as bear-proof and had installed a sort of mesh screen across the entrance. People could order drinks from the bar with names like Pooh’s HoneyandGrizzly Killer. Axel rolled the paper up and shoved it down the side of the seat.
She was standing a little way down the platform, wearing cycling shorts and helmet, black jacket and sunglasses.
– Been waiting long? he asked.
A lot of ramblers and cyclists were milling round. They didn’t look all that scared by the headlines, or the thought of what might be awaiting them out there in the woods. He gave her a quick squeeze on the arm.
– Cool set of wheels.
She got into the saddle.
– I bought it yesterday.
He waited at the top of Blankvannsbråten. When Miriam joined him, he nodded in the direction of the edge of the forest.
– We’ll leave our bikes up there.
– Are you sure it’s safe to wander about up here? she asked.
He laughed.
– That bear’s miles away, don’t worry about that. With everything that’s been going on up here, it’s been scared halfway up to Valdres or Trøndelag by now. You know how far a brown bear can get in a week?
He took a step towards her, loosened her helmet. Her hair was gathered in two braids and fastened with a grip at the back.
– Unless, that is, there’s something else you’re afraid of, he added.
By the time they reached the tarn, it had clouded over. He took his rucksack off and put it down next to the little boat lying there with its bow pointing upwards, then took out a white cloth and spread it out, putting a thermos and two cups on it, and a package from Bruun’s bakery.
– You brought a cloth?
He gestured expansively.
– A little style, that’s all. I stole it from the examination room. It isn’t sterile, but I can guarantee it’s clean.
She laughed, and he reached out a hand and touched one of her ears, the almost invisible rim of fuzz.
– This is goodbye, he said. – That’s why I’ve invited you out to lunch.
– What do you mean?
– I’ll be away next week. Seminar.
He’d forgotten to tell her. Put it at the back of his mind.
– Inger Beate will be looking after you for the rest of your time with us.
He jumped up on to the rock, looked out across the black mirrored surface.
– Last one in is a rotten egg, he called out to her, pulling off his vest, trousers and underpants in one movement and diving in without a moment’s hesitation. The water was colder than it had been two weeks earlier. He ducked down and swam a couple of strokes underwater, spun up again and turned round. She was standing by the rock, still looking amazed.
– Don’t stand there wondering what day it is, he said to cheer her up.
– I’ve just had a sore throat.
– All the more reason. This beats an apple a day any time.
She started to pull off her tight shorts. He kept his eyes on her as she took off the rest of her clothes and remained standing there at the water’s edge in the sharp grey light. That’s not why I brought her here, he thought. But as he stood there in the cold water looking at her naked body, he knew that it would happen soon. Without realising, he had prepared himself for it. There were no barriers left to cross; he was there already. Can’t be avoided, he said to himself.
He had a little towel in his rucksack. Handed it to her as she came tripping up on to the bank with small steps. To dry himself he used his vest.