‘So you’re confirming that you’ll be resigning as Justice Secretary?’
‘I am,’ Trine nods.
‘Why are you resigning?’
‘I don’t think the Norwegian people need further information. Everything the media have written and said about me in the last few days should provide ample explanation.’
‘So you’re admitting that you’re guilty of the allegations?’
‘No, that’s not what I said. But recent media coverage makes it difficult for me to carry on.’
‘You need to elaborate,’ Palme demands.
‘No, I don’t.’
Palme is briefly thrown, but quickly recovers.
‘Can you tell me what the last few days have been like for you?’
Trine inhales deeply.
‘They’ve been tough; to say anything else would be wrong.’
‘Many people will view your resignation as an admission of guilt.’
‘I realise that. People will have to interpret my resignation as they see fit.’
Palme hesitates. A few seconds pass before she continues: ‘The identity of the young politician has yet to become known or confirmed. Have you spoken to him since this?’
‘No,’ Trine says.
‘Is there anything you want to say to him right now?’
‘No.’
‘Are you going to apologise to him?’
Trine looks straight into the camera.
‘I’ve got nothing to apologise for. I need to go now,’ she says and starts walking. New questions are hurled at her by Palme and the other reporters, but Trine just carries on walking and shows no sign of wanting to answer them. She aims for her ministerial car, which starts with a vroom before she reaches it. A blitz of flashlights follows them around the first bend.
Chapter 86
After Trine’s departure, Henning remains in Jessheim with the other reporters where one press interview follows another. Officials sing from the same hymn sheet. They can’t praise Trine Juul-Osmundsen enough for the part she played in saving the lives of Emilie Blomvik and her family.
Henning leaves just before seven o’clock and catches the 7.30 p.m. train back to Oslo. A good hour later he is home in Grünerløkka.
Trine’s problems in the past week remind him that he ought to look in on his mother. The last time he left her she was in bed, deep in a heavy, alcohol-induced sleep. He decides to check if her condition has changed.
The sky over Sofienberg is almost black when he lets himself into her flat. Again he is met with a disturbing silence, but the cigarette smell is back at its usual, intense level. He sees the disappointment in his mother’s eyes when he enters the kitchen.
‘Hi, Mum,’ Henning says and attempts a smile.
She never replies, she never says hi, hello or good evening. Such pleasantries simply have no place in Christine Juul’s vocabulary. As always she is sitting at the kitchen table. The ashtray in front of her is overflowing and a cigarette in it sends a steady column of thin, blue smoke up towards the ceiling. The small glass beside her is almost empty.
‘You didn’t fix the radio,’ she sulks. ‘You said you were going to fix the radio.’
‘I know, Mum. I just haven’t got round to it yet.’
‘I want to listen to the radio.’
‘I’ll fix it.’
His mother takes a drag of her cigarette and stubs it out so hard the ash spills over the edge of the ashtray.
‘And here was I hoping it was Trine coming,’ she says, knocking back the last few drops in the glass and slamming it down.
Henning looks at his mother for a long time before he closes his eyes and tells himself to just let it go as usual, that there is no point in arguing with her, there never was. But he is hurt, deeply hurt by the venom she constantly spits at him as if the very sight of him gives her a bad taste in her mouth.
‘Why do you always say that?’ he asks.
Christine Juul raises her head towards him.
‘Why do you always have to tell me that you wish it had been Trine instead of me?’
His mother’s eyes don’t move.
‘Tell me,’ he insists. ‘How often does she visit you? Do you even remember when she was here last?’
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I do remember. I wrote it down.’
Henning splutters.
‘And why on earth did you do that?’
His mother looks up at him.
‘That’s none of your business.’
‘So you can flick through your diary and daydream about it? Is that what this is about?’
‘Hah,’ she snorts and looks away.
‘You’re a coward,’ Henning continues. ‘You sit here day in day out, mad at the whole world and me in particular – or so it seems. You smoke and drink and wallow in your own grief. Yes, I’m sure it was tough for you when Dad died, but it wasn’t my fault.’
Christine Juul stands up on trembling legs and grips the back of her chair. She tosses her head and pulls herself up to her full height. Her eyes, normally glazed and heavy with alcohol, brim with a sharpness and a rage Henning doesn’t remember seeing before.
‘Yes, it was,’ she says through clenched teeth.
Henning stares at her. His tongue swells up in his mouth and the words that finally seep out of him sound like a strangled whisper.
‘What did you say?’ he stutters.
‘You heard me,’ she barks without moving a muscle in her face. Henning can feel a red flush spread across his neck and upwards. He is only one metre away from his mother. The bitter words hang between them and her breath pricks him like needles. In the ensuing silence his legs begin to feel unsteady and it takes him a long time to compose himself.
‘And just what the hell do you mean by that?’ he asks her at last.
She is still clinging on to the chair while her gaze bores into his. She says nothing. She sits down and lights another cigarette, drinks some more liqueur. Henning demands that she explain herself, but Christine Juul has nothing more to say to him. Finally she points to the door and tells him to leave.
Henning steps out into a night that is still damp and cold. People and cars rush past him. Of course it’s not my fault that Mum’s life turned out the way it did, he thinks, and shakes his head. I was only sixteen years old when Dad died.
So why would she say that?
Chapter 87
Trine enjoys the silence and the soporific motion of the car. Her driver always handles the vehicle so smoothly and skilfully. It is especially welcome now. The excitement at Jessheim, the intensity, the resolution, the relief – all induce in her a state of deep relaxation. At last she feels calm on the inside as well. And she knows that the media will write nice things about her this time even though she doesn’t deserve them. All she did was turn up and talk. She didn’t make Remi come out voluntarily. It could so easily have gone horribly wrong. But for once the odds were in her favour. And it felt good to announce her resignation in the TV2 interview. There is no way back now. It’s over. It’s finished.
Well, not entirely.
Just as she thinks this, her mobile rings. Trine checks it and slumps slightly. She lets it ring for a long time. Finally she capitulates.
‘Hi,’ Katarina Hatlem begins. ‘I heard what happened. It was great that—’
‘What do you want?’ Trine interrupts.
Katarina sighs heavily.
‘I want to try to make it up to you.’
‘It’s a little too late, Katarina.’
‘I understand why you would say that. But even if you never want to speak to me again, I think you might be interested in hearing what I’ve been doing since you left the office.’