Lying there on her sofa, in the tiny flat. The feeling of not having to say anything. I like the person she makes me into, he thought. I like the person I am when I’m with her, better than all the other versions of Axel Glenne. And I’m to let him go? Really?
He sent a text message saying he wouldn’t be home. No explanation. He couldn’t face the thought of making up another lie.
It was 7.30. One of the bottles of red wine was almost empty. Bie had tried to call; he’d put the phone on mute. She’d sent a text: What is going on, Axel? The question brought a sense of relief. Now there was no way round it; he would have to talk to her. Will explain tomorrow, he wrote back.
– Your father was a war hero, Miriam said suddenly.
Axel shared the last of the wine between them. It didn’t surprise him that she had found this out.
– Genuine Norwegian war hero, he confirmed. – There’s a phrase for it in Norwegian, gutta på skauen, the lads in the forest. For one whole winter he had to stay hidden away in a cabin, completely alone, miles from anyone.
– I’ve heard a lot about the war in Norway, she said. – Since I came here I’ve met a lot of people who said it was the brave Norwegians who defeated the Germans. I’ve even been inside one of those cabins you’re talking about, deep in the forest. They had the operations centre in a secret room in the cellar. The grandfather of the person who owns the cabin was a… what did he call it… was it a border guide?
– That’s right.
– He helped refugees over into Sweden. In the end he was caught and sent to a concentration camp.
Axel opened the second bottle.
– It was a very dangerous job, he nodded. – When we were kids, my father plotted in the whole network of cabins and flight routes for us on a map. We imagined walking them with him. I’ve lost track of how many times he told us about the moment he was just seconds away from being captured by the Gestapo. And every time we were just as scared. Even Brede sat there listening in silence… What did you say his name was, this man who was a border guide?
– I don’t remember. I can’t go around remembering everything. Some things should be forgotten.
It occurred to him that in a subtle way she was trying to involve him. She wanted him to ask more about these things that should be forgotten, tell him stories about her past. Lead him into them as though into a labyrinth. In the end it would be impossible to let her go.
He said: – Are you good at forgetting?
Her eyebrows flew up and quivered a few times. She didn’t answer.
– If I asked you to, could you forget what we’ve shared together?
She hugged him tighter.
– You say that as though it was already in the past.
He knew he was getting close to what he was supposed to be saying to her, but then he ducked away. Changed the subject, said something unimportant.
– You left an envelope behind in the office you were using at the clinic.
He didn’t mention how close he’d come to opening it, to peering into her life and the things he wanted to know as little about as possible.
– Bring it with you next time you come, she said. – If you come.
Again she gave him the chance to say what he had come to say.
Somewhere in the distance a phone is ringing. It’s for him, but he can’t work out where the sound is coming from. He’s lying on a stone floor, he’s cold. Brede is walking down a staircase towards him. It isn’t Brede. It’s Tom, coming down step by step. Never reaching him.
Axel opened his eyes in the dark, sat bolt upright. He heard Miriam’s slow breathing. Could just make out the hair that flowed across the pillow by the bedhead. The shapes of the books on the shelf above it became clearer, and the photograph of the officer in naval uniform. The only picture he’d seen at her flat. It had to be her father. He had avoided asking. Suddenly he remembered the last thing he’d said to her before she fell asleep: one day I’ll tell you about my twin brother. One day? she murmured, half asleep. Next time I come, he said. You will be the first to hear the story. About what happened that summer he was sent away.
It was two minutes to five. He dressed quietly. Out in the hallway he picked up his shoes. There was a smell of something rotting, and it struck him that it was himself he was smelling. He opened the front door slightly and the smell grew stronger. He opened it further. Something was obstructing it. He pushed and managed to get it half open. Suddenly realised what the smell reminded him of: the pathology lab, the smell of an autopsy. He switched on the light. It cast a yellowish cone on to the landing. A hand was lying there, an arm. Ripped and bloody. He hurled himself against the door and stumbled out in his stockinged feet, stepping in something wet and sticky. The body that lay there blocking the doorway was naked. It was a woman. Both legs were missing. The hair was a cake of coagulated blood, the face had been torn open. He couldn’t see the eyes. He stepped back inside, into the hallway. The door swung closed.
From the alcove he heard Miriam’s voice. She called his name. He staggered in to her.
– Where have you been? What’s that smell? Axel, say something.
He cleared his throat.
– It’s… it’s happened again.
She jumped out of the alcove.
– What has happened?
His body felt as though it was collapsing; he held on tight to the back of the chair.
– Outside your door.
She was on her way out; he grabbed hold of her.
– Someone’s lying there. A woman.
– No!
– She’s… You mustn’t go out there.
– Anita, she whispered.
He let go of her. Tried to keep hold of his thoughts. Managed to hang on to one.
– Wait five minutes, until I’m gone. Then call the police. Lock the door and wait here until they come, don’t open up for anyone else.
She looked at him in disbelief.
– Are you going?
– I must talk to Bie. She has to hear this from me… that I was here last night. You do understand, Miriam, you must tell the police you were alone. That you couldn’t get the door open. That you saw a bloodied arm and didn’t dare go out until they arrived.
She was still staring at him, as though she didn’t understand what he was talking about.
– Miriam. He took hold of her hair, drew her head away so that he could see her eyes. They looked frozen. – Remember now? Remember to ring?
He held her tight and kissed her on the cheek. Her arms hung slack.
– Don’t leave now, Axel, she whispered.
He squeezed out through the door, avoided breathing in the stench. Didn’t look down at what was lying there. Staggered down the uneven staircase and out into the back yard. As he put his hand on the gate, someone opened it from the outside. He jumped back a step, stood poised in the half-dark. A man with a cap pulled down over his forehead came in through the opening, pulling a newspaper trolley behind him. For an instant Axel met his gaze.
– Good morning, the man said in heavily accented Norwegian.
Axel dashed past him.
A diffuse band of silver light hung in the eastern sky. He looked at his watch: 5.10. He hurried in the direction of Carl Berners Place before realising he was going in the wrong direction. He turned back. No taxi, he thought. Mustn’t let anyone see me. Don’t even know where I’m going.
Half an hour later, he rang on a doorbell in Tåsenveien.
41
Tuesday 23 October
VIKEN STOOD ON the top step, breathing unevenly. Not because he was in such bad shape that he was out of breath from climbing a few stairs, but because what he saw was what he had expected to see, and yet so much worse that it left him gasping for air, and the stench from the dead body was almost unendurable.