‘Jonny has always been a little wild and crazy, but there’s only him and me. He’s four years older than me and he’s the only brother I have – let’s put it like that – my big brother, my… what can I say?… he’s the fixed point in my universe. But you’re a policeman. I do realize that I have to tell you that he’s been inside. He’s done more than three years altogether. Jonny can walk down the street and be nicked by plainclothes men at any time simply because he’s Jonny – an old acquaintance of the police, as they say on TV. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s my brother, do you understand? I can’t love my brother less because he’s been to prison. He’s all I can call family. It’s always been us two. Do you understand that?’
‘Elisabeth, what are you trying to say?’
Look up. Let me see you.
‘I’m trying to say that maybe you won’t like my brother. But that doesn’t mean I feel any less for you. Your being a policeman doesn’t have to make any difference. Jonny is looking for a new job. He’s going straight.’
‘Does Jonny know about me?’
‘Hm?’
She doesn’t know what to say. She’s trying to gain time.
A noise broke the tension and gave them some respite.
Footsteps clattered on the spiral staircase by the end wall. He looked over. Someone was on their way up. It was someone he knew: Lena Stigersand, a police colleague, Lena and her racist friend/lover, coming up the staircase, each with a tray of food. The staircase was five metres away. Soon Lena would be level with them and exit the stairs facing this way. She would see him with Elisabeth.
‘Your brother, does he know about us?’
‘I don’t think so.’
At that moment Lena turned to look for somewhere to sit. She was only seconds away from spotting Frank Frølich out on the town with a new lady friend; he was seconds away from a rumour about him being spawned.
Elisabeth smiled disarmingly.
As he refrained from answering the smile, she became earnest and looked down. Fidgety fingers. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Does what matter?’
‘About Jonny. Does it matter?’
Lena Stigersand shouted: ‘Hi, Frank!’
Game over.
Frølich peered up and pretended to be surprised: ‘Hi, Lena!’
Elisabeth remained absolutely silent.
Lena Stigersand came over to him with a smile, accompanied by her idiot of a partner/undercover policeman, who was bound to know about Jonny Faremo and probably even knew that Jonny had a sister. Both were now waiting beside the table where he was sitting with Elisabeth, who was concentrating on sucking her straw.
Frølich cleared his throat. ‘Lena, meet Elisabeth.’
It enveloped them, the slightly reserved atmosphere that arises when you exchange names.
Smiling, Lena said, ‘We’ve met before, Elisabeth.’
‘Oh?’ Elisabeth replied, puzzled.
Frølich remembered before Lena could say anything. So he interceded in and told her himself. ‘In Torggata, Badir’s shop. Lena was leading the operation.’
Elisabeth’s face cracked into a smile. ‘That was where Frank and I first met.’
Lena Stigersand’s face was a transparent pane of glass. He was able to see the wires connecting up in her head. The look she gave him. The detective now, the policewoman making connections, not the nice woman friend meeting a good colleague in town.
Lena and her partner moved off and were soon out of hearing. They scraped their chairs at the far side of the room. Frank Frølich pushed the half-eaten burger away. He was unable to think about food. ‘Elisabeth…’
‘Yes?’
‘I asked if your brother knew about us.’
‘I don’t know.’
He took a deep breath. ‘If you have talked to him about me, he knows.’
‘I don’t think he knows about you.’
‘You haven’t said a single word about me to your brother?’
‘Relax, calm down.’ Elisabeth had tears in her eyes now.
‘It’s you I’m interested in,’ Frølich said reassuringly. ‘I’ve never considered starting a relationship with your brother.’
Her face all smiles and gleaming eyes again. But why was she relieved? He reflected and knew the answer: she was relieved because the conversation was over.
4
Frølich was at work, sitting at his desk. He gave a start. Momentarily, he had been absent, his mind elsewhere – with her.
He gave another start as Yttergjerde repeated: ‘Go on, Frankie.’
He sat staring at Yttergjerde. For those blanked-out seconds he had no idea what they were talking about.
This is me. I start a conversation and switch off. What is going on?
His memory returned. He resumed the theme he had initiated: ‘I was just saying we were on a course learning about those blind dogs.’
‘They’re called guide dogs.’
‘Yes, that’s it. We were learning about how to recognize particular signs in dogs, ones which might be suitable for the job, about their natures…’ Frølich stared at Yttergjerde’s face, almost switching off again as his mind went in a different direction. But he focused firmly on the task in hand and continued: ‘And the eyes, the body language, right? It’s the same with drugs dogs. Some are suitable, some aren’t.’
Yttergjerde nodded enthusiastically. He sensed a witticism coming.
‘So, there I was, looking at these dogs, using what I had learned, right, and convinced that the Alsatian in the middle, that Alsatian was guide dog numero uno, right…’
‘Yes?’ Yttergjerde had a broad grin on his face, ready. He was already laughing at an as yet undelivered punch line. A grin was straining, held in by tensed cheek muscles.
And I’m sitting here, he thought, as the tip of Yttergjerde’s chin impatiently bobbed up and down, waiting for the gag, for the twist, the final quip which would justify the release of his laughter. What am I doing?
‘And the course director says we have to show what we have learned and there I am, sitting there, having sussed out the top guide dog in all of Norway, right, and I put out my hand, don’t I…’
‘Yes?’ More laughter, more bobbing chin.
‘And I get up…’
‘Yes?’
‘Go over to the dogs, the dog, the Alsatian in the middle…’
‘Yes?’
‘Stick out my hand…’
‘Yes?’ Yttergjerde’s laughter was on its way up his throat, it was already in the man’s mouth.
‘Then the dog snaps at my hand and I topple over backwards!’
He sat watching Yttergjerde, who had released his laughter.
Is this what I want? Is this what is known as social competence? Is this what defines me as a successful person? Is this the moment I might jeopardize by making a false move? Is this the moment I’m risking? A moment I’m not even sure I enjoy.
Yttergjerde wiped the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. ‘Oh shit,’ he sighed. ‘That’s so bloody typical, oh shit…’
‘The rumour’s true,’ Frølich said abruptly.
Yttergjerde, who didn’t know what he was talking about, said: ‘What rumour?’
‘About me and this woman, Jonny Faremo’s sister.’
Yttergjerde’s face was in flux, a laughing mask stiffening into a gentle gape. Yttergjerde was shaken, as they say in boxing circles. He was at that stage when the shock has had its physical effect, but he still hasn’t begun to comprehend that he has been struck.
‘So now you know,’ said Frølich grimly. ‘Everything the lads say is true. I’ve got together with Jonny Faremo’s sister – the same Jonny Faremo who served three years for armed robbery.’
He grabbed hold of his jacket and left.
5
Simple Minds were on the stereo. The voice was singing ‘You Turned Me On’ and a little later ‘Alive and Kicking’. As soon as the voice finished, the CD player went back to the beginning and a song called ‘Hypnotized’.