"Excuse me!"
Andreas called out in a paper-thin voice. The yellow shirt flapped around his slender midriff. His right hand held the shirt over his knife. He looked like a very tall kid of confirmation age. Zipp, still in the car, saw the woman stop at last. It didn't seem right to choose her, not a woman with a little baby. There was something about the way that she was clutching the handle of the pram that frightened him. A sense of desperation in those white hands tight around the handle. It wasn't because of the handbag, but because of the little bundle under the blue blanket. He realised that something might happen, that she was unpredictable because of the baby. He put the brake on and got out. He did this even though Andreas had told him to stay in the car.
Andreas was almost level with her. He stopped a short distance away so as not to seem threatening. And he had an air about him that was hard to resist. Zipp could see in her eyes that she had read what it said on his cap, that she had noticed the little white cross and the words underneath. Her shoulders relaxed. She even ran her hand over her scarf, almost coquettishly, and looked at him with a smile. Andreas opened his mouth and said something. The woman replied and started pointing, past the car park and up towards the road. Zipp stared at the pram and caught sight of the handbag.
A nylon bag, black and red. Andreas moved a few steps nearer as he looked the other way. He was backing up towards the handbag. Zipp kept walking. Then Andreas noticed him, and for a moment he looked confused. They were high up on the path now. There was no beach below, just a bare slope descending to the water that ended in piles of sharp rocks. Andreas made his move. He leaned and
grabbed the handbag, then ran hell for leather back towards the car. The woman screamed. In desperation she tried to make sense of the new situation, the fact that they had duped her, after all, just when she had decided that they were decent boys with good intentions. Something took hold of her, a violent rage, or maybe it was a sense of impotence. She kicked on the brake of the pram out of pure reflex, and started running.
"Get in the car!" Andreas shouted. But Zipp stood stock still. They came running towards him, but he didn't move because he could see the pram starting to roll down the slope towards the water. She hadn't set the brake properly!
Paralysed, he watched the little blue plush pram tip over the edge. He screamed as he ran like crazy and almost collided with Andreas. But the woman stopped in her tracks. She finally realised what was happening. She whirled around and saw Zipp leap over the edge and vanish. And then she gave a piercing shriek and started to run. Andreas stopped where he was and stared in astonishment. The handbag slipped out of his hands. In the distance he heard the roar of the waves, the sound of heavy swells that almost knocked him over. He heard several faint screams before Zipp's blond head appeared over the edge. His face was red with agitation.
"Run, for God's sake, run!"
"What about the baby!" shouted Andreas. He grabbed the handbag and ran after Zipp.
"The pram stopped against a stone and tipped over! The baby fell out! Oh, fucking hell!" They threw themselves into the car and drove out of the car park with a screech of tyres. Neither of them dared to look back. But they could still hear the roar of the waves, a loud thundering that rose and fell.
"Shit! The baby was screaming its head off!"
"Calm down, it went fine."
"Fine? That baby could have drowned!"
"He didn't drown!"
"But he definitely hurt himself. Shit, you should have heard him screaming!"
"It would have been worse if he didn't."
"Jesus Christ."
"Cut out the Jesus crap!"
The Golf roared along the road, sending up a shower of gravel and careening wildly. An ugly grinding sound came from the gearbox. Andreas had to hold on to the door handle. He tore off his cap and stuffed it into his pocket. His curls came tumbling out.
"She saw both of us. She saw the car. Do you have the handbag?"
Zipp was stammering.
"Do you think I'm an amateur?"
"We'll have the police at the door by tonight."
"No, we won't. She's too preoccupied with the baby. She'll forget about everything else."
"Are you out of your mind?" shrieked Zipp, as he struggled to hold the steering wheel in his trembling hands.
"I know what women are like. She'll be thanking God because the baby survived and she'll realise how unimportant the money is. Mothers have a whole new set of values in life. So shut up and drive!"
He bent over the bag and rummaged inside it. Pulled out a baby bottle.
"The milk's warm," he said in surprise. After that he took out a dummy, a mosquito net for the pram and a purse. He tore it open. "Her name's Gina," he said.
"Is there any money?" asked Zipp in confusion.
"A few hundred-kroner notes. Four. Shit, Zipp, let me tell you, I'm a genius of cunning and strength! According to the Tyrell Corporation. Nexus 6 fighting model!"
*
My mother was not really a mother, but rather a kind of corrective entity. That's why I'm a well-behaved girl. I say "yes, please" and "no, thank you". I have a firm handshake. Look people in the eye. Remember names. Remember little things, what people like and don't like, notice how attractively they blush. I'm not so dangerous. I take good care of myself, I do not lack for anything. It's no sacrifice. A person can argue his way through life and insist on having his own way or someone else having theirs, and live a life of pain. Why should I do that? Nothing is important to me, or not important enough. I don't mind standing at the end of the line, I'm a patient person. If others are in a hurry, I let them go ahead of me. It amuses me. I laugh at them when they're not looking. Laugh at their life-or-death expressions. It's only on bad days that I cry. But I don't have many bad days. Or didn't. Sometimes I do cry, almost astonished at the crack that opens without warning. When I look at pictures from poor countries. Children with flies on their lips, toothless old people with no flesh on their bones, scabs and sores, with no water; they look at me reproachfully. Maybe part of the blame is mine.
Somebody is to blame. But I've never done anything about it.
I'm glad that Henry disappeared. I saw it coming. Saw his expression when I got undressed at night. Not disgust, just a terrible embarrassment, and I didn't help him. That wasn't my job. Henry was supposed to help me. That's what the doctor said, let your husband help you. But he couldn't do it. It's easier to live alone. And this way he won't have to deal with everything that happens. That's good. My son Ingemar never mentions his name. I tell him that he doesn't have to, only that he has to try to understand. He doesn't love me, I realise that. He doesn't hate me either, I've never thought that he did, but the only life I know I've dumped on to his shoulders. He's a decent person too. Works for the Pricing Commission. He doesn't owe any money, and he doesn't drink. I don't know exactly what he does at his job, maybe he decides what things should cost. Everybody complains about the price of everything, and everybody's salary is too low. "Let's go on strike!" they all shout. "We're not going to stand for it any more, we've been passed over, we're not appreciated, the others have got something, why shouldn't we!" No-one ever grows up these days. Everywhere I go I see whining children. Runi, for example, she whines a lot.
Once in a while I wish that Ingemar would come over and we could go into town together. Arm in arm. Irma Funder walking along the street with her grown-up son. He's not tall or handsome, but quite nice-looking. He gets his heavy face from me, and it suits him. He's extremely serious. The kind of person who has thought things through. It's true that he doesn't have any great ambitions, but he fulfils his obligations, and he never complains. Walking through town with Ingemar. We go to a cafe. He pays and carries our tray to the table. Pulls out my chair. But he never comes. It's been a long time since he came to see me. If I suggested it – how about the two of us going into town? – he would look at me in surprise. But now I'm happy as long as he stays away.