– Thank you, Lord Jesus, she whispered. – Thank you, Lord, for seeing me. Though I wander upon dark ways.
She got off at the Storting. Her jacket was left behind on the seat. She wasn’t cold. She wanted to feel light, unencumbered. She stood on the escalator and was raised up into the light. The sky was bright and shining, and from where she was standing, she felt as though the steps would carry her up above the street and over the rooftops.
In Bogstadveien, she stood in front of the clinic door and waited. The tram passed on its way down the road. She stood there a long time before another one came. Solveig, you need help, she told herself again. But it didn’t work any more. There was a surging in her chest, but it wasn’t calm, more like a jolting. She started making her way up towards Majorstua. There’s a fishmonger’s there, Solveig; buy five fish and ask to have them filleted. A man on the other side of the road walked by, looking at her. He looked like Pastor Brandberg at the Pentecostal church. Pastor Brandberg is dead, Solveig. She speeded up. The man on the other side of the road did the same. He was wearing a long leather coat, with his hair pulled back and fastened in a ponytail. Pastor Brandberg had baptised her. She remembered his face as she was pulled up out of the water, his eyes as he blessed her. Pastor Brandberg always helped them. He was the one they took her to the first time she got sick. She crossed the road and stood in front of him.
– Can you help me? she asked.
He hurried on without answering, the grey ponytail swaying from side to side on his neck.
She stopped at the pedestrian crossing, held on to the railings. It had started again, and she wouldn’t be able to stop it. If a car hit her, the driver would feel bad. But not if it was a bus. It was a bus driver’s job to drive around all over town; anything could happen to them. They were protected. The Lord was with bus drivers. They were the instruments of the Lord. Though they wandered upon dark ways. Next time a red bus comes by, you let go, Solveig. She looked up at the sky above Majorstuehuset. The clouds were in sudden motion, pulled apart from each other as though by some mighty hand; the light was unbearably bright. She lowered her gaze. And there, on the steps to the Underground station, enveloped in a blinding white light, stood a man. He had a beard, and his hair was unkempt, his jacket was ragged. The face was turned towards her, and she saw that it was Axel Glenne. And He shall return, though they shall not know Him. - But I know him, she murmured. It’s not going to happen, not yet. Again the calm surged through her chest, swelling inside her until she trembled in pure joy.
She let go of the railings, turned her back to the bristling stream of cars and started walking back down Bogstadveien.
8
AT 12.15, AXEL GLENNE finished with his last patient before lunch. He made a few notes in the journal, closed it and clicked his computer into hibernation mode.
– Time we had something to eat, he said to Miriam without looking at her. There hadn’t been a moment’s let-up all morning, and he had barely managed to pass on the odd bit of advice to her in among all the consultations. After what had happened the day before, he felt a bit embarrassed about seeing her today. But she seemed to think it was the most natural thing in the world for the two of them to have sat in her car talking for more than half an hour.
He let her into the break room before him. It was a tight squeeze, though only Rita and Inger Beate were already sitting there. They squashed themselves in around the circular table. Rita’s niece had been to see her and Rita had brought along home-made waffles. Inger Beate wanted to discuss a patient with him and brought out a pile of reports from lab tests. She gave him a rundown of the details as she devoured an egg salad, washing it down with coffee. The patient complained of itching, and had lost weight, but otherwise felt fine.
– Before I have a go, let’s hear what the student has to say, said Axel, chewing.
Inger Beate Garberg had a strong, bony face with grey hair that hung in waves around her shoulders. She looked at the clock, annoyed, only five minutes of the lunch break left.
Miriam said, – Did you ask if he experiences any discomfort when he drinks alcohol?
Inger Beate glanced over at Axel. He helped himself from the plate of waffles and gave a cautious smile in return. A loaded question there from the student, Inger Beate.
– Of course I asked him that.
– And what was the patient’s reply?
– He was vague, she grunted as she closed up the plastic carton containing the rest of her salad. – I’d better ask him again.
It hadn’t occurred to her, Axel noted, but he didn’t confront her with it. Inger Beate had only recently returned after working for two years among Aids victims in Botswana. She was still struggling to return to everyday life back at home, the parade of patients most of whom were perfectly well and yet still complained over the slightest thing. But she was a good colleague, and it would have been no pleasure to catch her out, still less to let a student do so. He knew that she would now take a closer look at the patient to see if there were any other signs of lymphatic cancer. That was what he suspected, after having looked at the lab reports.
– More waffles? Rita said, offering the plate around.
Axel patted his stomach, indicating that he’d had enough.
– I’ll take the student with me on my rounds, he said, – in the certain knowledge that you’ll hold the fort back here, Rita.
– Don’t you worry about that. Actually there’s a guy who tried to make an appointment for today. He said he’s applied to have you as his family doctor but the papers haven’t arrived yet.
– You did tell me we were fully booked today?
– He wondered about tomorrow afternoon instead, and I just mentioned that you always went out on your bike on Thursday afternoons. Was that stupid of me?
Axel furrowed his brow.
– It’s none of the patients’ business what I get up to in my spare time. Is it so urgent?
– He thought so, but he wouldn’t say why.
Back in his office, Axel went over the contents of his doctor’s bag with Miriam. Just as he was closing it, Rita called from the front desk.
– Solveig Lundwall is here.
– She doesn’t have an appointment today.
– I don’t know about that. But she won’t go until she’s talked to you.
– Tell her I’ll call her this afternoon.
He heard Rita saying something at the other end of the phone. Then loud shouting.
– Can you hear that? She’s screaming and carrying on.
– All right, send her in.
Moments later the door was flung wide open.
– Sit down, Solveig.
She remained standing and scowled at Miriam.
– We’ve got a student working in the practice with us. Is it all right if she stays here while we talk?