‘I was just a little dizzy,’ he mumbled. ‘It can happen to the best of us.’
‘Have you been to the doctor’s?’
‘I can’t bother a doctor just because I’m a little dizzy now and then.’
‘Yes, you can,’ she said. ‘Are you afraid of doctors?’
‘It’s so much trouble, Ingrid, with tests and all the rest. I mean, spending half the day in a waiting room. I don’t have the time.’
She gave up, slumped forward. Her father was intelligent and kind and generous, but he was also, when it came to himself, unapproachable. ‘You’re shy,’ she said. ‘You don’t like the thought of getting undressed in front of someone else. Lying on a doctor’s examination table. Answering questions about how you live.’
‘I live well.’
‘I know. You don’t need to be embarrassed, because you’re actually in quite good shape. But it’s not right that you get dizzy every time you stand up.’
‘Not every time, Ingrid. Just now and then.’
She leaned closer and tapped his nose. ‘If I ask you to stay for a while, or for dinner, you’ll say no, because you’ve got to head home to Frank.’
‘He’s been alone since seven this morning.’ He rose and pushed his chair into place. ‘When you were small,’ he reminded her, ‘you threw a tantrum to get what you wanted.’
‘And it worked every single time,’ she smiled.
The door banged open in the hallway. Matteus tumbled in.
Sejer noticed he was limping.
Ingrid didn’t mention the cheeseburger.
Chapter 16
Johnny Beskow didn’t own much.
His mother never shared anything, and never gave him anything. He had his Suzuki Estilete, a helmet and a pair of top-quality biking gloves with red skulls. Two pairs of jeans, some faded T-shirts, a hooded jumper and trainers which he wore year round.
He stood in the doorway to his room, and instantly he knew something was missing.
Bleeding Heart was gone.
The empty cage confused him. He examined it carefully, putting his hand inside and lifting the little plastic maze. But no guinea pig emerged. He got down on all fours and searched under his bed. He hunted behind the curtains, under his desk and pillows, and the rubbish bin in the corner. He turned and walked, soundlessly, into the living room. His mother sat in a chair with a stack of bills. She glanced up.
‘What have you done with him?!’ he shouted. ‘Tell me now!’
She looked at him indifferently, then put her finger on a stack of yellow payment forms and made a tired face. ‘They’ll cut the electricity soon,’ she mumbled.
‘Where’s Bleeding Heart?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Do you mean the little rat? He got loose. I can’t have rats running around the house. He chewed on the cords and all kinds of things, and that can cause a short circuit and burn the whole house down. But I guess you’d probably like that.’
Johnny began to tremble from head to toe. After years of bullying and neglect, he’d grown rather thick-skinned. But this was too much for him.
‘He didn’t get loose,’ he screamed. ‘He can’t get out of the cage on his own. There’s a latch on the door. You just went and took him, that’s what you did. You took him. You need to tell me where he is, now!’
She gathered her payment forms, got up and shoved them in a drawer. Then she looked at him over her shoulder. ‘Well, what should we do with a dead rat? What do you think, Johnny?’
He knew what she’d done. Standing a few metres away, his fists clenched, he understood that she’d killed the most precious thing he owned. Somehow. And it made him angry. He got so angry that his thoughts ran to horrible places. I’ll put the army knife into your spine, he thought, so you’ll be paralysed in both legs and you’ll have to crawl on your elbows while I sit in a chair and tell you how you’re going to die. He wondered exactly where in the back he’d have to stab her to slice the right nerve.
‘I put it in an empty milk carton,’ she said suddenly.
He breathed deeply. Moved a few steps closer, opening and closing his fists. ‘And where’s the milk carton? Is it in the rubbish? Are you telling me Bleeding Heart is in the rubbish?’
‘Yes,’ she confessed. ‘In the bin for food waste. I won’t have rats here,’ she repeated. ‘It smells of them. It smells of piss from that cage, Johnny!’
Quietly Johnny Beskow made his way out of the house. Went down to the gate where the rubbish bins stood. He opened the bin and looked inside, and immediately he recognised the milk carton. She had folded it tight, and his hands trembled when he opened it. Bleeding Heart, sticky wet, was curled into a ball. She had drowned him. Maybe in the bathroom sink.
For a long time he held the wet fur ball. I can deal with almost anything, he thought. Year after year I’ve held my tongue. But the day is coming when I will get up and take my gruesome revenge. She doesn’t know it, but that day is very close. I just need the right moment. To hell with the consequences — life is a drag, and so is death. When I get my revenge people can do what they want and think what they want, I won’t care. That’s why I’m better than them.
He pulled himself away and strode to the back of the house, where he found an old rusty spade. He put the guinea pig on the grass and began to dig. Extremely focused, he dug a deep grave, laid the small animal inside and covered it with dirt. Then he found a stone and put it on top of the grave, like a heavy lid. I hope it’s deep enough, he thought, so the badgers don’t get you. He stood tall and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was beaten, but he didn’t intend to stay down. He marched over to his moped, put on his helmet and drove on to the road.
Twenty minutes later he arrived at the shopping centre in Kirkeby. Because he liked breaking rules, he parked in a disabled space. Whenever Johnny could break a rule, he did so, and now he wished for nothing more than to be insufferable. After everything that had happened. He took the escalator up to the second floor and trudged into the pet shop. A girl behind the counter followed him with her eyes; she fingered some papers, stared at him for a moment and kept him under surveillance. First, Johnny went to the aquarium and admired the catfish. Then the girl strolled slowly towards him, long and stooped and swaying; she had large, heavy eyelids and long lashes. Her lower lip was very full, making him think of a camel.
‘Are you interested in fish?’
‘No,’ Johnny said. ‘I want a guinea pig. One with three colours, black, brown and white. A male. I don’t care how much it costs.’
‘We don’t have any guinea pigs,’ she said.
‘What? Not a single one?’
He wasn’t sure he had heard right. He was in a pet shop, and they didn’t have a guinea pig.
The camel headed towards a row of cages against the wall, pointed and showed him what she had to offer, which was a little bit of everything.
‘We have dwarf rabbits,’ she said temptingly, ‘and polecats and brown rats. And we have a large chinchilla, but it’s sort of boring — sleeps all day.’
Johnny Beskow hesitated. He didn’t want to go home without a new pet. So he studied the furry creatures with considerable interest.
‘And we have a hamster,’ she remembered. ‘It’s all by itself now. Its siblings have been sold.’ She opened one of the cages and lifted out a small champagne-coloured fur ball. ‘The hamster is great. It’s much smarter than a guinea pig. And really tame.’
He took the animal, and held it up to his cheek. ‘I see,’ he said, setting it back in its cage. He didn’t want to be hasty. He took his time. The rats were strong; they smelled like cloves, and were fast as lightning. One was an albino and had red eyes, like rubies. The chinchilla seemed aloof, didn’t even bother to blink, and the dwarf rabbits were for girls. He picked up the animals one by one, weighed them in his hands and held them up to his cheek. Thought long and hard.