Solveig Lundwall shook her head vigorously, and Axel motioned to Miriam to leave the room. The moment they were alone Solveig exclaimed:
– It won’t do, Axel.
He was taken aback to hear her use his first name.
– What won’t do?
She was sitting on the edge of her chair, ready to flare up again.
– She shouldn’t be here, she snorted, scowling towards the door.
– You mean the student?
Solveig didn’t respond. Axel leant towards her.
– Tell me why you came here, Solveig.
– The whore, she muttered. – The whore of Babylon. She shouldn’t be here. I have this against you that you tolerate that woman Jezebel.
Axel had known Solveig for many years; he knew all about her. When she started using biblical turns of phrase, it meant she was about to have another episode.
– I’ll help you, Solveig.
– I don’t have enough milk, she complained. – They drink and drink and it’s never enough. I fill up all the time, it just runs away.
He didn’t respond to this. Suddenly her face changed. The despair seeped away and she gave him an agitated look.
– I saw you just now.
He couldn’t hide his surprise.
– Majorstuehuset. You were standing at the top of the steps, against the light. Glenne in the forest. You were dressed as a beggar and had a beard, but it was your face and eyes. You were Jesus. Yes, it was you, you were Jesus, Axel Glenne, and you saved me. Had you not shown yourself, I would not have come back.
For a moment he sat there staring at her, unable to say a word.
– In Majorstua? he finally managed to blurt out.
– I saw the picture of that girl in the papers. She can’t have been more than sixteen years old. She’s watching over me. Something terrible is going to happen, Axel. They have as king over them the angel of the abyss. People are going to die. Pastor Brandberg turns his back and will not see. You are the only one who can prevent it.
He regained his self-possession. She trusted him. She’d come to see him on previous occasions when she was about to collapse. When she talked about death in this way, she was in danger. Twice before she had tried to take her own life.
– I’ll call the hospital, he said.
An hour later, he walked Miriam down to the yard, where he had his own parking place.
– What will happen to that last patient of yours? she wanted to know.
He swung out into Bogstadveien, up in the direction of Majorstua.
– Solveig Lundwall? She won’t spend too long in hospital. It’s usually just a matter of a few weeks.
He stopped for a red light, glanced over towards Majorstuehuset. People were moving up and down the steps, in and out of the Underground station. The person Solveig Lundwall had seen there might have been the creation of her own confused mind. But the description fitted the man he’d chased after himself the day before. The thought of parking the car, going in there and looking…
– Solveig is a very capable nursery-school teacher, he said. – She has three children of her own, and I’ve never had any doubt that she’s a good mother to them. Now and then she has psychotic episodes, or goes completely nuts, as she calls it. It’s probably three or four years since the last time.
– She evidently trusts you.
– Fortunately. Things nearly went very wrong last time.
– She didn’t take all that kindly to me. I think she wanted you all to herself.
He changed lanes and speeded up.
– She’s created this ideal image of me. She thought she saw me today by Majorstuehuset. I looked like Jesus.
Miriam didn’t laugh, and he was about to go on. About to tell her that he had a twin brother. He glanced over at her. She was in her mid-twenties. At least fifteen years younger than him. But there was this calm about her. And something in her look that made it possible to tell her things. Suddenly he felt an urge to reach out a hand, touch her hair. He turned away and concentrated on his driving.
The students usually liked the home visits. They reminded them of the old idea of the family doctor. Visiting people in their own homes. Sitting at the bedside of an old lady with breathing difficulties. Don’t be in a hurry to admit her, first try an increased dose of diuretic. Or a five year old with fever and a rash on the chest; the mother wailing into the receiver that she daren’t take him to the surgery, the doctor had to come and see him immediately. The boy started bawling as soon as he saw the doctor’s bag, and Axel had to blow into his plastic glove and make a balloon out of it, draw a mouth, nose and ears on it with a ballpoint pen. In a little while the tears stopped and Axel was able to peer into the child’s ears and throat and shine a light in his eyes without protest; he even let Miriam look into his eyes as well. He assured the mother that the rash and the fever were the fourth disease of childhood, and that half of the other children at the nursery school were undoubtedly suffering from the same thing. But he let her have his mobile number and said she could call him if she was still worried. When they left, the boy was sitting up playing with the glove balloon and wanting to show Axel a fire engine that he’d hidden under the sofa.
It was approaching 4.30 by the time the round was finished. Axel pulled into a bus bay in Majorstua.
– I’ll see you on Monday then, Miriam said, but she carried on sitting in the car.
– Not tomorrow?
– I’m taking the day off tomorrow. And on Fridays we have lectures.
He indicated and pulled back out into Kirkeveien.
– You said you live in Rodeløkka, isn’t that right? I might as well drop you off there.
As they waited for the lights to change by Ullevål hospital, he thought about Solveig Lundwall. She was lying in a bare room somewhere in there, almost certainly sleeping, because to help her in the battle against the angel of the abyss that was raging inside her they had probably given her a massive dose of sedative. Something terrible is going to happen, Axel. People are going to die.
– I have a brother, he said abruptly as he swung into Helgesens gate. – A twin brother. I haven’t seen him in more than twenty years.
Miriam said nothing, but he could feel how she was looking at him.
– I think I probably thought he was dead. Because in a way he has been… It might have been him Solveig saw in the street today.
– You can stop here, said Miriam. – I live up there. She pointed to one of the old brick buildings. – Third floor. The attic.
He put the car in neutral, pulled on the handbrake.
– Maybe… she began. There was a hint of greenish yellow in her brown eyes. – Would you like a cup of coffee?
He wanted to go with her up into the attic apartment. Sit down in her living room. Feel the calmness that surrounded here. Tell her something or other, he didn’t know what. Some people listen, he thought, others wait for the chance to speak. She’s a listener.
– If only I could, he said.
Her eyes opened wider.
– Sorry, I didn’t mean to…
He laid his hand on her arm. Let the explanations remain unvoiced. Not a word about Marlen’s riding lesson, or that he’d promised to put the rice on to boil.
– Nothing to apologise for, Miriam. He noted that this was the first time he had used her name. – I’ll be happy to drink coffee with you another day. Unless you withdraw the invitation.
Outside the car, she turned and smiled quickly.
– I won’t do that, she said, and pushed the door shut.
9
Thursday 27 September
AXEL NEVER MADE appointments at the clinic after lunch on Thursdays. With the last one out the door at 12.45, he changed into his cycling gear in the cloakroom and fetched his bike from a storeroom in the cellar. It had been washed and the chain cleaned and oiled after the last ride. Usually he cycled up to Sognsvann and rode on into the surrounding forest, but today he took the bike on the Underground with him up to Frognerseter.