On his palm Jan sees the cat’s other eye: Leo has plucked it out.
Jan looks into Leo’s face and wonders whether it is innocence or unhappiness he sees there. Jan doesn’t know. He only knows that in some parts of the world it is not cuddly toys that children carry around, but rifles and machine guns.
How can he help the children? How can he help just one child, like Leo?
You are ready to protect the weak, the singer from the Bohemos had said. That may well be true, but there isn’t much Jan can do.
Several of the children will be visiting the hospital this Monday too. Jan has begun to learn how the children react to these interruptions to their normal daily routine. Some of them, like Mira and Matilda, are happy to be seeing their parent, and get quite giggly as their little legs scamper down the stairs to the basement. Others, like Fanny and Mattias, remain calm as they make their way to the lift without speaking.
But there are also children who are very tense when Jan goes to collect them.
Josefine, the five-year-old who found the book about the Animal Lady, probably shows the clearest indications of anxiety. She always looks a little frightened when he goes to fetch her.
‘All right,’ she says quietly when he asks her how she’s feeling.
He doesn’t believe her. Not entirely.
This Monday Josefine is due in the visitors’ room at two o’clock, and when Jan goes to pick her up from the playroom five minutes beforehand, she is busy building a Lego house.
‘OK, Josefine — time to go!’
She doesn’t respond; she just keeps on building her house.
‘Come along, Josefine!’ he says.
She still won’t look at him, but silently gets to her feet. Without protest she follows him towards the stairs. Her pink elk is tucked underneath her arm; during assembly this morning she told everyone that his name was Ziggy.
Jan looks at Josefine and the elk, and thinks once more about the guardian animals. When they reach the underground corridor he asks, ‘Do you remember that book about the Animal Lady, Josefine?’
She nods.
‘But how did you know it was in the book box?’
‘I put it there,’ she says.
‘I see... so someone gave it to you?’
‘She gave me a few.’
‘Who did?’
‘A lady.’
They have reached the lift, and Jan stops. ‘Would you like me to come up with you, Josefine?’
She nods again silently, and they step into the lift.
‘Are you not feeling very happy?’ he asks as they are travelling upwards.
Josefine shakes her head.
‘Who are you going to see?’
‘A lady,’ the child says quietly.
A lady? Jan recalls that Josefine has been brought to school and picked up by several different people: sometimes a woman, sometimes an older man. Of course he isn’t allowed to ask any questions about Josefine’s family, but still he bends down and says, ‘You’re going to see your mum, aren’t you?’
Josefine nods. And the lift stops.
This is actually the first time Jan has accompanied a child up to the visitors’ room. He peeps out and sees a bright, clean room with a big sofa, parlour palms in pots, and a table with several children’s books on it. But there are no CCTV cameras, as far as Jan can see.
The room is empty, but there is a closed door with a key pad at the other end.
‘Out you come, Josefine.’
As Jan holds the door open she takes a tentative step into the room, then she turns around and whispers, ‘Can you stay?’
He makes a sad face. ‘I’m not allowed to do that, Josefine... unfortunately. You’ll have to see your mum without me.’
Josefine shakes her head, and Jan doesn’t know what else to say. The visitors’ room is still empty, but he keeps his hand on the door of the lift. He doesn’t want to leave Josefine alone.
There is a metallic click from the door at the other end of the room; it opens and a man in a pale-red nurse’s uniform appears. It isn’t Lars Rettig; this man is younger than Rettig. Shorter and more powerfully built too, with black hair cropped very close. He looks familiar.
Is he part of the security team who work the day shift? He reminds Jan of one of those fighting dogs that are ready to leap forward and sink their teeth into a tyre — or a throat.
His keys are attached to a thick belt around his waist, along with several white plastic loops. Next to them is a container which looks like a small metal Thermos flask. Handcuffs and tear gas?
The man takes three long strides away from the door and Jan tenses as if bracing himself for an attack; he almost jerks backwards.
But the man stops in the middle of the room and stares at Jan. ‘Thanks,’ he says.
Jan holds up a hand in acknowledgement, but doesn’t move. He can see a shadow over by the doorway. Someone else is waiting on the other side — someone who doesn’t want to step forward and show herself. A patient from St Psycho’s, Jan realizes. Josefine’s mother?
‘Thanks,’ the man says again. ‘We’ll take over now, that’s fine.’ His voice sounds mechanical, emotionless.
‘Good.’ But Jan doesn’t think it’s fine at all. His heart is pounding, his fingers are trembling. Security guards and police officers make him nervous.
He is almost convinced that Rami is Josefine’s mother. That Rami is standing in the corridor, less than ten metres away from him. If he waits just a little bit longer he will see her, he will be able to talk to her.
But the guard takes another long stride into the room, his gaze fixed on the lift, and Jan has to go. He looks at Josefine one last time, gives her a reassuring smile and raises his voice: ‘See you soon, Josefine. I’ll come and get you. Do you remember my name?’
Josefine blinks. ‘Jan.’
‘That’s it... Jan Hauger.’
He has said his name so loudly and clearly that Josefine’s mother must have heard him. It feels as if this is important. Then he closes the lift door and goes back to the Dell.
His legs are shaking after his encounter with the guard, but his mind is full of Rami.
He is sure he was so close up there — so close to making contact with her at last, to being able to explain why things turned out as they did with little William, deep in the forest.
‘Shall we play hide-and-seek?’ Jan asked.
It was the right time to make the suggestion now; he and the nine boys were out of sight of Sigrid and her group. The question sounded more like an order, and the boys didn’t object.
‘You’re it, Jan!’ Max shouted.
Jan agreed; of course he was going to be the one looking for them. But he wagged a finger at them and continued in the same firm tone of voice: ‘Run away one at a time. I’ll tell you which direction to go in. Then hide. You are to wait there until I find you, or shout to tell you to come out. Understood?’
The boys nodded, and he began: ‘Max, you go that way.’ He pointed to some boulders about twenty metres away, and Max turned and sped off.
‘Not too far!’ Jan shouted after him, then chose the next child. ‘Paul, you go that way...’ One by one he sent them off among the fir trees, but always in virtually the same direction.
In the end there was only little William left.
Jan walked over to him. He had never been this close to the boy before, and he crouched down so that he was on the same level. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked, as if he didn’t know.
‘William,’ the boy answered quietly, glancing away shyly; this was the first time Jan had spoken to him. To William, he was just another grown-up.
‘OK, William...’ Jan pointed. ‘You can go in that direction, down that little path. Can you see the red arrow?’