“Why are you here?” she asked with a sharp edge to her voice.
“It’s a sudden death,” Sejer explained. “Conversations like this are part of the procedure.”
“That’s what you say to everyone,” she said, her voice now bitter. “Just routine, you say. But I don’t see how we can be of any help. No wrong has been done. Just so that’s clear, because I know what you’re thinking. That’s why you’re here, and I can’t bear the thought that you’re here to poke around in our lives.”
Sejer blew on his coffee and took a small sip. “Yes, we say that to everyone,” he said, unruffled, “because it’s the truth. Tell me what you thought about the pond, the fact that it was so close to the house. Did it worry you?”
“Yes,” Zita replied. “We worried a lot. Water can be so alluring. But Tommy was still small, and we thought we had plenty of time. I mean, of course we’d thought about putting up a fence around the house. With a latched gate. But we never got around to it; then suddenly it was too late, because he’d started walking. I feel so sorry for Carmen and Nicolai. I don’t have words.”
Skarre put his cup down on its saucer with a clinking of porcelain. “How did Carmen react when it became clear that Tommy had Down syndrome?”
“Oh, she took it in stride,” Zita said. “I think you could say that. Don’t you think so, Elsa, she took it in stride?”
“Yes,” she agreed. “They both took it in stride. As my husband said, Carmen is strong. She always has been. But obviously, there’s sorrow too. It’s not easy having a child like that. So they were sad too; it would be strange if they weren’t. After all, it’s understandable that they would also feel some disappointment.”
“And what about you?” Skarre asked. “What were your thoughts on Tommy’s future? Were you worried about it and how he would manage?”
Carmen’s mother drank some more coffee. She seemed to be bothered by the questions and answered them with some reluctance.
“I’m going to tell you the truth,” she said. “When Tommy was born, it was a real shock. Carmen is so young and I thought it was only older women who had children with Down syndrome. It all felt very unreal and I was devastated. So there you go, now I’ve said it.”
“And what kind of mother was Carmen?” Skarre asked.
“The very best,” Zita interjected. “They were such good parents, both of them. Tommy got all that he needed, and we helped them financially. That way Carmen could be at home, for a couple of years at least. Until Tommy went to nursery school. At Solhella, you know, there’s a nursery school for children with special needs. He’d been promised a place from the age of two. The plan was that Carmen would work at the restaurant with Nicolai. They’d get by fine on two salaries. They didn’t have to pay any rent for the house at Granfoss. That’s to say, I am the owner and I certainly wouldn’t fleece them.”
“And what about Nicolai?” Skarre pressed. “Are you pleased to have him as a son-in-law?”
“Oh yes,” Zita replied, without hesitation. “He’s always been so good to Carmen. But he’s not as strong as her, and he’s completely fallen to pieces now. Carmen feels guilty because she left Tommy alone for five minutes, and she’d forgotten to close the door. Nicolai feels guilty because he was in the cellar. And I feel guilty because we didn’t get the fence up in time.”
“And you?” Sejer turned to Elsa. “Do you also feel guilty?”
“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t feel guilty. It was an accident and no one is to blame. And I don’t want to hear any talk of guilt; it’s bad enough as it is. Don’t say things like that!”
Then she dried a tear.
“Don’t you dare try,” she added. “Just leave us be!”
“Certainly, we will,” Sejer assured her. “It is not our intention to hound you about this. We’re not out to get anyone. We just need to get a clear idea of what happened, in terms of the law.”
“Of course,” Elsa said and straightened her back. “I’ll tell you what happened. It was very warm on August 10. Tommy was allowed to be naked for a while and was playing on his blanket. Carmen went into the bathroom and was gone for five minutes. Tommy clearly toddled down to the pond and fell off the jetty. That’s what happened,” she said. “And now please leave us to grieve in peace.”
Zita accompanied them to the front door.
He stood for a while on the step and tried to excuse his wife.
“We understand that this is hard for you all,” Sejer said, “and we certainly won’t bother you with any more questions. We wish you all the best. And we hope that the youngsters will manage to pull through this without any feelings of guilt.”
Zita walked a few steps down the gravel path and stood with his hands in his pockets, poking at the ground with his toe. “Yes. They’ll get through it. Carmen is pretty solid. When it comes to Nicolai, he just needs a bit more time. But we’ll manage.”
“How did you react when Carmen got pregnant at the age of seventeen?” Sejer asked.
“We were delighted,” he said swiftly. “It’s such a gift, isn’t it? And we thought so highly of Nicolai. We promised to do everything we could to help, and we have. We’ve looked after Tommy for them a lot.”
He looked first at one and then the other.
“I know that you’ve been to the restaurant,” he said suddenly. “Elisabeth called and told me that she’d had to answer some questions. I don’t know what that means, the fact that you wanted to talk to her. But we assume that it’s done now. We don’t have anything else to tell.”
He went back up the steps and then turned to them for the last time.
“I’m sure it’s just your job,” he said somberly. “The fact that you always think the worst. I’m trying to understand that. But you won’t find anything here. It was an accident. There’s nothing more to say.”
Then he disappeared into the house and shut the door with a bang.
“The Women’s Clinic,” Sejer said to Skarre. “I’ve let them know that we’re coming, so they’ll be waiting.”
16
It was afternoon by the time the two men arrived at Oslo University Hospital. They walked down endless corridors and through wide double doors with glass panels. And then, at the end of a corridor, a sure sign that they were in the right place: a beautiful bronze statue of a stork with a bundle in its beak. They found the staff room and one of the midwives on duty stood up and shook their hands.
“Yes,” she said. “I looked after Carmen. I got your message so I waited. Please, sit down. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
It was a nice, homely room, with a large curved sofa and two armchairs. Flowery curtains in the windows, a large cabinet full of cups and glasses, a coffee machine, a big spacious desk. Two green filing cabinets and a PC. There was a big teddy bear in blue overalls in one corner. Above the desk, a bulletin board was full of photographs of babies in all colors and shapes and cards with messages of thanks from a number of parents. Skarre took off his jacket and went over to have a closer look at the photographs. Thank you for all your help, from Fredrikke. Thank you for looking after me at the birth, from Emilie Krantz. We wouldn’t have managed without you, from Nina and Marie.
The midwife returned after a few minutes, pulled a chair out from behind the desk, and sat down. She was probably in her mid-forties, round, and dressed in a white coat over light pants and white clogs with rubber soles. She immediately inspired trust. Her hair was thick and blond and on her coat she wore a porcelain badge that said ANNE MARIE.
“Yes, I remember her,” she said immediately. “It was a cesarean. She has an extremely narrow pelvis. Oh yes, I remember her, but mostly because her name, Carmen Zita, is an unusual name. Not one you forget really. And she was so young. And the child had Down syndrome. Yes, yes, I remember her well. And the father too, he was almost as young as her and incredibly shy. But I don’t understand why you are here. I don’t see how I can help you; has something happened?”