‘Of course,’ says Jan, meeting Högsmed’s gaze. ‘I’m not keen on nicknames either.’
‘Good.’ The doctor leans back in his chair. ‘And you wouldn’t be working inside the hospital anyway, if you get the job. The pre-school is separate from the hospital.’
‘Oh?’ This is news to Jan. ‘So it’s not in this building?’
‘No. The Dell is a completely separate building.’
‘But what do you do with... with the children?’
‘What do we do with them?’
‘When they come here, I mean. How do they get to spend time with... with their mother or father?’
‘We have a visitors’ room. The children come in through a sally port.’
‘A sally port?’
‘There’s an underground corridor,’ says Högsmed. ‘And a lift.’
He picks up several sheets of paper from the desk. Jan recognizes them: his application form. Attached is a printout from the criminal records bureau, showing that Jan Hauger has never been convicted of any kind of sexual offence. Jan is used to requesting this proof from the police; it is always required when someone applies to work with children.
‘Now let’s see...’ Högsmed screws up his red eyes and slowly begins to leaf through the form. ‘Your CV looks excellent. You worked as a classroom assistant in Nordbro two years after you left grammar school, then you qualified as a pre-school teacher in Uppsala, and you’ve had several temporary posts at various nurseries and pre-schools in Gothenburg. You’re currently unemployed, it seems, and still living there.’
‘I’ve only been out of work for a couple of months,’ Jan says quickly.
‘But you’ve had nine temporary posts in six years. Is that correct?’
Jan nods without speaking.
‘And nothing permanent so far?’
‘No,’ says Jan, pausing for a moment. ‘For various reasons... I’ve usually been covering for someone on maternity or paternity leave, and naturally they’ve always come back to work.’
‘I understand. And this is also a temporary appointment, of course,’ the doctor says. ‘Until the end of the year, in the first instance.’
Jan can’t ignore the faint implication that he is a restless person. He gestures in the direction of his CV. ‘The children and the parents always liked me... And I’ve always had good references.’
The doctor carries on reading, and nods. ‘So I see, they’re excellent... from your last three employers. They all recommend you without hesitation.’ He lowers the papers and looks at Jan. ‘And what about the others?’
‘The others?’
‘What did the rest of your employers think? Were they unhappy with you?’
‘No. No, they most certainly were not, but I didn’t want to include every single positive—’
‘I understand,’ the doctor interrupts. ‘Too much praise starts to look suspicious. But is it OK if I give them a call? One of the nurseries you worked at in the early days?’
The doctor suddenly seems alert and curious; his hand is already resting on the telephone.
Jan sits there in silence, his mouth half-open. It’s all down to the hats, he suspects — he refused Högsmed’s psychological test. He wants to shake his head, but his neck won’t move.
Not Lynx, he thinks. You’re welcome to call the others, but not Lynx.
He finally manages to move his head to indicate his assent. ‘That’s fine,’ he says, ‘but unfortunately I don’t have the numbers.’
‘No problem — they’ll be on the internet.’ Högsmed casts a final glance at the list of Jan’s former employers, then keys in a series of letters on the computer.
The name of one of the nurseries from the early days. But which one? Which one? Jan can’t see, and he doesn’t want to lean across the desk to find out if it’s Lynx.
Why did he include it in his CV?
Nine years ago! Just one mistake with one child, nine years ago... Is all that business going to be dragged up again?
He breathes calmly, his fingertips resting gently on his thighs. It’s only lunatics who start waving their arms around when they’re under pressure.
‘Excellent, there’s the number,’ Högsmed murmurs, blinking at the screen. ‘I’ll just give them a call...’
He lifts the receiver, keys in half a dozen numbers and glances over at Jan.
Jan tries to smile, but he is holding his breath. Who is the doctor calling?
Is there anyone left from his time at Lynx — anyone who still remembers him? Anyone who remembers what happened in the forest?
3
‘Hello?’
Someone has answered the phone; the doctor leans forward across the desk. ‘Patrik Högsmed, senior consultant at St Patricia’s Hospital... I’m looking for someone who used to work with Jan Hauger. That’s right, H-A-U-G-E-R. He was with you on a temporary basis eight or nine years ago.’
Eight or nine years ago. Jan lowers his head when he hears those words. In that case it has to be one of the nurseries in Nordbro. Either Little Sunflowers or Lynx. Jan left the town where he grew up after that.
‘So that was before your time, Julia? OK, but is there anyone who was there when... Excellent, if you could put me through to the person who was in charge back then... yes, I’ll hold.’
The room falls silent again, so silent that Jan can hear a door closing somewhere down the corridor.
Nina. Jan suddenly remembers that the person in charge at Lynx was called Nina Gundotter. Strange name. He hasn’t thought about Nina for many years — he has pushed all his memories from Lynx into a bottle and buried it.
The white clock is ticking away on the wall; it is quarter past two now.
‘Hello?’
Someone is speaking to the doctor, and Jan digs his fingers into his thighs. He holds his breath as he listens to Högsmed once more introducing himself and explaining his reasons for ringing.
‘So you do remember Jan Hauger? Excellent. What can you tell me about him?’
Silence. The doctor glances briefly at Jan, and carries on listening.
‘Thank you,’ he says after thirty seconds. ‘That’s very helpful. Yes, of course I’ll pass on your regards. Thank you very much indeed.’
He replaces the receiver and leans back. ‘More positive comments.’ He looks encouragingly at Jan. ‘That was Lena Zetterberg at the Little Sunflowers nursery in Nordbro, and she had nothing but good things to say about you. Jan Hauger was enthusiastic, responsible, popular with both parents and children... Top marks.’
Jan begins to smile again. ‘I remember Lena. We got on very well.’
‘Good.’ The doctor gets to his feet and picks up a plastic folder from the desk. ‘Let’s head over to our own excellent pre-school... You do know that we use the term pre-school these days, Jan?’
‘Of course.’
Högsmed holds the door open for Jan.
‘The term nursery has become just as outmoded as playschool,’ he says, before adding, ‘And it’s the same with psychiatric terms; they lose their acceptability over the years. Words such as hysteric, lunatic and psychopath... They are no longer used. We don’t even talk about sick or healthy people at St Patricia’s, we simply refer to functioning or non-functioning individuals.’ He turns to Jan. ‘Because who amongst us can say that we are always healthy?’