'Canyou see?' she asked.
'Almost.'
Sheslid into a better position.
'Perfect.'
He satobserving her in the mirror. He did not move and did not say a word. After along while she opened her eyes. Then he rose to his feet and whispered in herear. 'What are you thinking about?'
'Music,'she whispered back.
'Whatkind of music?'
'Schubert.'
Hewrapped both hands around her face. The blue, somewhat grainy eyelids loweredas he kissed her tenderly on the forehead. She bit her lower lip hard. Herbreathing was heavy and drowned the sharp violin notes from the cassette player.For a few brief seconds he gazed at the ceiling. But when she later buried herface in his white shirt front, he lowered his head with affection against hersoft shoulder and one solitary tear rolled down.
Chapter 6
Outsidethe warehouse where this scene was unfolding, Richard Ekholt stood leaningagainst a wire fence and thinking that the window in the building's façadelooked like a half-closed eye. The eyelid was a roller blind and beneath itthere was a strip of light. His eyes hurt from staring, but he couldn't tearthem away.
Eventhough he was very cold, Richard Ekholt was not aware that he was freezing. Hewas wearing a taxi driver's uniform and nothing over it. The Oslo Taxis logowas sewn on his left sleeve at the top. The uniform was creased, the trousersunpressed and the soiled jacket lapels bore dark, long-term coffee, hot dog andketchup stains. On his feet he was wearing brown shoes unsuitable for freezingtemperatures. When he noticed the woman's silhouette through the white blind,he closed his eyes for two brief seconds. But the feeling that arose fromhaving his suspicions confirmed was a different pain, different from the jealousyhe had felt hitherto. What he experienced was a paralysing hollowness, whichwas not relieved by turning away. For two brief seconds it felt as though theground would hit him in the face before he found a fence to grab hold of.
Therewas just one illuminated window in the row of darkened squares in the wall. Herbody became a blurred shadow which soon became a razor-sharp silhouette againstthe white blind, only to lose its contours in an absurd piece of mutepantomime. The profile of the steep nose, the shape of the top lip and the wigstood out against the blind as she swung round at leisure and began to unbuttonher dress. The silhouette was just as sharp as she wriggled one shoulder outand let her dress fall. Her shadow dissolved as, again, she swung around. Thenhe felt the sensation in his legs go, as though his body were being suckedhollow from seeing her shadow, a torso with straight shoulders and sharplydefined breasts, melt into the form of grey mist, as though a film director weresitting somewhere protecting the audience from the spicy scenes. He neitherregistered the cold on his body nor the icy air in his nostrils. What he feltwas the fleeting touch of her skin on his fingers the moment before she pulledaway from him and ran out of the car. He staggered towards the door throughwhich she had disappeared. Without taking his eyes off the bizarre shadowtheatre going on behind the white blind, he staggered across the tarmac, thepatches of ice and trampled snow until he slumped against the iron door whichhe knew was locked. Nevertheless, he pulled at the handle. He kicked the door.No sign of give. He backed away. How had she got in? he wondered. He searchedfor a bell, but there was nothing to be seen. She must have known the way, hethought. She has been here before, he thought. As though in a trance, hewobbled back to the taxi. All he could hear was the crunching of snowunderfoot. He got in and glowered at the clock on the dashboard. Shouts fromcustomers who wanted a taxi seeped through, but he didn't pay any attention; hedidn't take his eyes off the minute hand on the clock. Soon he could see hisown icy breath. After a while a layer of frozen condensation had covered theinside of the windscreen. His fingers went numb with cold, but all he couldthink of was her shadow through the blind.
Theminute hand moved with infinite slowness. Nevertheless, it crept round half acircuit without his noticing time was passing. It was almost impossible to isee out through the layer of ice covering the windscreen. He ground his teethand blew on his fingers to allay the cold. Then he switched on the engine,revved up and put the defroster and heating on full. He held his hands in frontof the heating ducts, which were soon letting lukewarm air into the car. Hisknuckles were red with cold, his fingers white and bloodless. The ice on thewindscreen soon thawed, leaving small oval patches through which he could see.His fingers began to tingle. But his brain was still churning over her mysteriousrendezvous. Whom had she dressed up for? She had been thinking about this manwhen she was putting on lipstick, when she leaned towards the mirror and put oneye-shadow. The concentrated hand that held the brush – like that – with himsitting in the same room. Her thoughts had been elsewhere, with another man.She had chosen a dress for another man. Already, in front of the mirror, shewas practising this deception. She had not been going to do a job – noreadings, no dance. She had been preparing herself for a lover. He clenched hisfists and glared. There was still light in the window.
Thecar began to warm up; the ice that had covered the windscreen disappeared, andwhen the switchboard finally received the call that had to be hers, he wonderedwhether he would be cheeky and take the job. But he refrained. He sat there,immobile. Soon afterwards a taxi pulled up a few metres away, with the rooflight off. The taxi reversed and waited with the engine idling as the exhaustfumes danced in a line like a grey wad of cotton wool in the cold. Hisattention was still directed towards the window. That was why he didn't hearthem coming at first.
Whenhe did notice them, he grabbed the door handle, then let it go. They camewalking in a tight embrace. No. They were supporting each other. She, in herhigh heels, and he – that was when he discovered it was an elderly man. Thatbecame obvious when she opened the taxi door for him. He followed her figurewith his eyes as she rounded the taxi on her unsteady heels and got in on theopposite side. The taxi set off and he put his car in gear. They took the ringroad – illuminated, almost deserted so early in the evening. He stared at theback of her head in the car window. She did not turn round. She had no ideathat she had been found out. His eyes stung as he followed them down towardsCarl Berners Plass. They were approaching the lights on red and he hung back sothat he would not be seen. He fixed his gaze on the man's white hair. When thetaxi moved off, he did not notice where it was going. He only saw the back ofthe man's head in front of him. He tried to imagine what the man looked like.In his mind, he formulated the question: Who are you?
Slowingto a halt, he realized they had stopped outside her flat in Hegermanns gate. Hebraked, pulled into the kerb and switched on the roof light – an anonymous taxiin any street in town. Lowering his chin to his chest, he pretended to bemaking a note while registering her through his eyelashes. She moved to theside, gave the old man a hug as the door opened, set one foot on the road andmanoeuvred her body out. The old man was looking ahead. He couldn't even bebothered to look ather. The old man was still gazing into space asthe car drove off.
RichardEkholt instantly switched off the roof light on his car and accelerated. Shehad crossed the pavement and was now standing in front of the entrance,searching for her key. She turned as he drove past. They exchanged glances. Shegave a start and made a movement with her arm when she recognized him. But hedrove on. She stared after him. He watched her in the rear-view mirror. Thefigure became smaller and smaller in the little mirror stained with grease andfingerprints, distorting her features into a hazy shadow. A shadow staringafter him, | dejected. But he would take care of her later. First, the old boy.He signalled right and followed the taxi along Ringveien.