See You Tomorrow (49 page)

The sound of the curtain rings sliding along the pole. A soft swish. The material is drawn aside. It’s her. The burnt hair, the slashed face. It’s him. The bright mouth, the deep-set eyes.

They approach the bed.

Sandra is lying under a duvet with the hospital emblem on it. Her head is turned to the right and she can’t move it. Her hair is lying neatly across the pillow the way her mother arranged it. Her lips are dry and cracked, even though her father has applied lip balm to them. She has bruises on her face, a cut under her cheekbone, because the people standing in front of her knocked her down. There’s a glass of water on the table beside the bed, as well as a vase with three red roses; one for hope, her mother said, one for faith, she said, and one for the future.

Sandra can’t feel a thing. Not anywhere. Her senses, with the exception of sight and hearing, are gone. She doesn’t know if they can see that she sees them. She doesn’t know if her eyes are moving.

‘Jesus.’

Daniel brings his hands together, fingertip to fingertip. He sinks down into the chair.

‘She’s in a coma,’ Veronika says, leaning down so her face is closer to Sandra. Studying her.

‘What have we done?’

‘Don’t you want to talk to her?’ Veronika brings her eyes up close to Sandra’s, scrutinises them, as though she suspects Sandra of pretending to lie so still.

‘Aren’t you going to say something?’ Veronika doesn’t take her eyes off Sandra. ‘Get on with it, so.’

‘What will I say?’ Daniel’s voice is meek.

‘I don’t know. Say what you need to say.’

Veronika gives a short nod to herself, as though confirming her belief in what she sees: Sandra is in a coma. She can’t move. This is not an act.

Daniel clears his throat, ‘Sorry, Sandra,’ he says in a stilted voice, ‘you should never have met me.’

The bright boy isn’t able to look at her. He isn’t able to talk naturally. He closes his eyes when he speaks, hardly opens his mouth. He backs away from the bed.

The corners of Veronika’s mouth begin to turn up into a smile as she sees Daniel move away. He walks over to the wall by the door and hides his face in his hands.

The girl who’s ruined Sandra’s life comes closer to the bed again.

What is she doing?

Sandra sees her lift her hands, bring them towards her neck. Her fingers curl, as though she were feline, her nails are long and painted; what is she doing?

The cuts on Veronika’s face glisten, a triumphant smile appears and her eyes are aglow. Her fingers touch Sandra’s throat. The crucifix. She takes it between her fingers, inspects it. Sandra can feel the disgusting breath on her face, and she wants to spit on her, wants to open her mouth and bite off her head, but she can’t do anything. Veronika loosens the clasp of the necklace, takes the crucifix and leans forward so her mouth is up to Sandra’s ear. Veronika lifts away a lock of hair, disturbing her summer blonde fringe, and whispers: ‘Hi, Sandra. Are you in pain?’

Sandra pictures kneeing her in the cunt.

‘It’s Veronika,’ she says, her lips millimetres from Sandra’s ear. ‘You’re nothing now. Nothing. Your tits are too small, those Met jeans suck, your thighs are too fat and your mouth makes you look like a weasel.’

Sandra pictures tearing her apart with her bare hands.

‘You can’t move,’ Veronika whispers. ‘You’re nothing now.’

Sandra imagines carrying her dismembered limbs. She walks across a dry stony landscape and after a while she reaches a
fire-scorched
rock-face. She crouches down and lets the body parts roll from her arms, as if they were logs of firewood. Then she lights it,
sees Veronika’s skin start to melt, watches the flesh begin to drip, smells the rising fetor of marred meat and makes out the bones beginning to appear.

Veronika straightens up. She breathes calmly. A summer of sorts has taken hold of her. A barrage of sunbeams shine through her very being.

Veronika turns to Daniel.

But he is not there. He is no longer by the door. He is out in the corridor. There is a doctor standing beside him. Not the same one as a little while ago. A different doctor. Now Veronika is nervous. Sandra tries to see what’s happening, but it’s beyond her field of vision. She can only hear voices and see Veronika’s form moving towards the door, nearer to the doctor and Daniel.

‘And who are you?’

‘I’m just a friend of hers.’

His voice.

‘A friend?’

‘Yes. I know her.’

That bright mouth of his.

‘Okay—’ the doctor looks slightly puzzled.

‘How is she?’

My Daniel.

‘Well, it’s too early to say,’ the doctor looks even more uncertain now, looks from Daniel to Veronika and says: ‘And who is she?’

Sandra sees Veronika draw closer to Daniel and the doctor.

‘No, she’s nobody,’ Daniel says.

‘Just a moment,’ the doctor says, ‘wait here for a second, I need to check something.’

Daniel turns his head to look at Sandra. So deep, those eyes of his, she feels she could fall into them.

He puts two fingers to his bright mouth, and leaves.

Love, Sandra thinks, as she notices her vision begin to fail, love bears all things, believes all things and hopes all things. And love, she thinks, and sees that she no longer sees, love endures all things. Sing songs of praise for my bright boy.

Veronika places the necklace around her neck. Fastens it. Lets it rest in the hollow of her throat.

She watches Daniel go down the corridor, walk away with a heavy footfall. She sees the lift doors open and him disappear inside. She moves to the window on the seventh floor and waits. A minute goes by, maybe two, and then she catches sight of him below. He emerges from the main entrance. He walks towards the Suzuki.

She knows how to do this.

Don’t look, don’t listen.

It’s been like this a thousand times before and it can be like this again.

My wolf man, you called me one unusual girl, but you didn’t exist and here’s the rule I made when I was small, when I lay under the duvet and thought about how I was always alone, how there would never be anyone for me:

‘There you are, girls. Could you give me a hand here? Yeah, I know. Some people were here, I just came home to put out the candle – silly Daddy, leaving it burning, eh – so I sent Mummy on ahead. Wasn't that a nice surprise, Tiril, Mummy turning up, you weren't expecting that, eh? You might have seen a van driving off, yeah, that was them, they just broke in, I think they must have been a motorbike gang or something, they were masked, they tied me up, beat me and took a load of our stuff, but never mind, fortunately we're insured, and I'm here, Daddy's here, it's fine, it's fine, I've only a broken nose, as well as some fingers and ribs, along with a few cuts and bruises, it's fine, unbelievable what a body can take, don't cry, Malene, hi Tiril, it's fine, Daddy's sorted everything out now, things will be good now, we're a nice little family so we are, we'll be all right, we'll get a new dog, it'll all be okay.'

He hears the front door open.

The sound of Malene's steps. Then Tiril's. And Christine's stomping.

Like she lived here.

‘Dad?'

PÃ¥l sits with his back to the oven. Aching pain all through his body. He's lost feeling in parts of his back and he's not certain, but it's like something in his mouth is smashed. His hands are still tied behind his back, but he lifts a finger, an unbroken one, as though they could see him.

‘In here!'

Sounds in the hall. Crunching, crackling.

‘Jesus, Dad! What happened here!'

‘Oh, it—'

‘Shit! There's glass everywhere!'

‘Hi, Tiril, how did it go? I'm in here!'

The footsteps near the kitchen.

‘Dad?'

They've entered the room. The footsteps have stopped. Breathing. A gasp. Someone says, ‘Jesus.'

It'll be good to see light again, good to get the blindfold off.

The worst is over now.

‘Hi, are you there?'

PÃ¥l hears Malene begin to sob, the same sound as the night she lay with her face buried in a pillow after injuring her ankle. He hears Tiril scream,
Zitha, Zitha, Zitha,
and he hears what he thinks are her knees hitting the floor with a thud as she sinks down in front of the dead dog. He hears Christine's silence, which only occurs when something has gone completely awry.

Well, she might move back home now? Who knows, never say never.

He clears his throat. ‘There you are, girls,' he says, feeling a stinging pain in his mouth as he speaks. ‘Could you give me a hand here? Yeah, I know, there were some people here, I was just coming home to put out the candle, silly Daddy, eh?'

Cecilie is lying with her head in his lap and it feels pretty damn good. Rudi becomes aware of a growing erection developing against her cheek and that feels pretty damn good too. They left in a hurry, managing to hump some of Pål's possessions from the house, a couple of computers, a TV and some other odds and ends, not exactly the haul of a lifetime, but like Jan Inge said: ‘It'll do given the day that's in it.' Tong is lying in the back of the van under an old dog blanket they grabbed on the way out, faceless and bloody, and Jan Inge is sitting behind the wheel of the Transporter, as they drive uphill in the darkness towards Ullandhaug.

A strange mix of emotions.

Rudi can't feel it inside. He doesn't feel as though he's been cheated on. He has no emotional reaction to his woman having been unfaithful to him for months. Nothing. Almost the opposite, and that's what's so weird, he feels only happiness. As if he had won it all, and maybe he has!

What did Gran say that time?

‘Rune, dear,' she said, ‘you'll soon be a man.' He was sixteen or seventeen, sitting in Gran's, drinking decaf, outside it was raining cats and dogs, she'd served him Swiss roll and she had that crafty expression round her eyes that made her look like an owl, and she said: ‘And you know what it means to be a man?'

‘No, I mean, yes, well…'

‘It means you have to be big-hearted, Rune,' she said. ‘Kind and big-hearted. That's what the girls like, you know.'

Chessi's eyes are shining. She is so bloody gorgeous.

The Transporter slows down as it reaches the top of Limahaugen, Jani puts on the indicator, pulls up to the kerb and turns
around to them, and Rudi can't help but feel everything is just perfect as their conversation unfolds: ‘So. What'll it be? Lura Turistheim?

‘Brother? You mean?'

‘Well, just figured, before we get home and take care of this—'

‘Reindeer stew with Waldorf salad and lingonberry jam. That was good. You can't go wrong with meatballs and mushy peas. Salt cod with bacon and onion, you liked that, brother.'

‘I think they close at six.'

‘Ah shit.'

‘Dolly's Pizza?'

‘We're always ordering from Dolly's.'

‘Thai Summer number two, baby, Thai Summer number two, you know how much you love that. Lime and coriander.'

‘Yeah, I suppose.'

‘No no. Hinna Bistro, then.'

‘They only do pizza too.'

‘Yeah yeah. But we do like pizza. Number fifteen – Gringo?'

‘Is that the one with chicken, chilli and salsa?'

‘Mhm.'

‘I can't help but feel we've made idiots of ourselves.'

‘Yeah yeah. Depends how you look at it.'

‘Word.'

‘Just think of George Michael.'

‘Whaddayamean?'

‘If you want to compare. People who've made idiots of themselves.'

‘Poor guy.'

‘I have no sympathy for him.'

‘Yeah, yeah. It's cosy at Hinna Bistro. Long time since we were there. Must have been before the summer.'

‘Aww. I'm looking forward to the summer.'

‘Eh, yeah. But summer has just been.'

‘Well. Y'know, I'm a summer kid, baby.'

‘Yeah, but it's a long way off.'

‘So, Hinna Bistro?'

‘Hinna Bistro.'

‘Be just the ticket. Some pizza, a nice kip, and then – Christ, I just realised we'll have a baby by the time summer comes.'

‘Wow, yeah. Imagine that. Running around the garden.'

‘He'll like that.'

‘How do you know it's a he?'

‘Heh heh. Daddy just knows.'

‘You don't even know if you are the daddy, you nitwit.'

‘I can feel it.'

‘That it's a he or that you're the father?'

‘Both, Chessi, both.'

‘Oh, good.'

‘So that's the reason your tits are bigger.'

‘Mhm.'

‘Hinna Bistro, so.'

‘Weather's been nice for days now.'

‘Yeah.'

‘I like this time of year. Brisk and bright. Kind of like summer but autumn.'

‘How do you think Pål is now?'

‘Well, not great, I suppose.'

‘Poor dog.'

‘I have a feeling this isn't going to be any problem.'

‘Me too. No chance of Pogo suspecting us.'

‘Probably not. And I think we can rely on Pål.'

‘Good thing you shot Tong in the van though.'

‘Yeah. Otherwise we'd already be in Åna.'

‘You know, he was at our place once.'

‘Eh?'

‘Oh?'

‘At our place?'

‘Eh?'

‘In Hillevåg?'

‘Mhm. In the eighties.'

‘Gosh.'

‘Gosh.'

‘There was something familiar about him though.'

‘There was.'

‘So. You mean—'

‘Yeah.'

‘When you say he was at our place.'

‘Yeah.'

‘Does that mean that, that you—'

‘We're not going to talk about it.'

‘No. Ah. That's what it is to be a man.'

‘Eh?'

‘Big-hearted and kind.'

‘Oh.'

‘I'm considering cutting out the speed.'

‘Oh?'

‘Something about kids and drugs that doesn't really go together.'

‘Mhm.'

‘Something about our line of business and drugs that doesn't really go together either.'

‘Mhm.'

‘Yeah. Reindeer stew with Waldorf salad and lingonberry jam. Now they go together.'

‘I wish Lura was open.'

‘Yeah yeah, but it's not. Hinna Bistro is cosy.'

‘Strange seeing Tong like that. Without a face, I mean.'

‘Yeah, but makes things better in a lot of ways.'

‘I can't get George Michael out of my head now.'

‘That's so you, soon as you get something on your mind, it just sticks.'

‘Our first murder.'

‘Not good.'

‘Not good.'

‘Not good.'

‘Do you think there was something wrong with Tong?'

‘Eh?'

‘Well, I mean, he has always been a vicious bastard, but like, I don't know, just wondering if there was something up with him now.'

‘Nah, that there had been coming a long time. Sick in the head, sick all over.'

‘You're going a bit far now. To be fair, we did have a lot of good times together.'

‘Yeah, but did we though.'

‘I thought the worst thing was the dog.'

‘Not good.'

‘Killing a dog. I don't know. I just feel like it's not on.'

‘You're not wrong there.'

‘It was so cute. Doing that to it, horrible.'

‘We'll get him a new dog.'

‘That makes two murders then.'

‘Three with the hedgehog.'

‘Now you're being unfair, mamacita. That was an accident.'

‘Yeah.'

‘Yeah.'

‘Okay, we're agreed. Hinna Bistro it is.'

The telecom tower on top of Ullandhaug, Rudi thinks, has always been one of the most beautiful things in the world. But most people probably feel that way, it occurs to him as he feels his erection twitch against Cecilie's cheek, as though she were a door he was knocking on. Most people must have something bolted on tight inside of them, something so dear to them that it never disappears, something that just grows and grows for every strange day that passes.