number plates. Fortunately the police were otherwise engaged. They were looking for this girl, Ida. He knew that and concentrated deeply so as not to distract them. He drove past them still staring rigidly ahead of him, but he sensed that he was being watched. Then he turned right. A few minutes later he took a left and reached Brenneriveien 12, 67
where he lived. He parked and covered the vehicle with the black tarpaulin. His garage was full of junk; there was no longer any room for the threewheeler. He entered the house. In the kitchen he stopped and listened. Alert like a cat. He put down his rucksack on the table and took out his shopping. Opened the bag of monkey nuts and emptied a few into the palm of his hand. Softly he went into the living room. The door to the bedroom was ajar. He kicked it shut and stood for a while breathing heavily. The monkey nuts grew moist in his clenched fist. Finally he went over to the window. Emil kept a birdcage where a grey parrot the size of a pigeon sat on a perch. It began singing a pretty low tune to earn the monkey nuts. Emil stuck his fingers through the bars and dropped the nuts into the feeding tray. Immediately the bird ducked, grabbed a nut with its claw and sank its beak into it. A dry, cracking sound was heard as the nut split. At that moment the telephone rang.
It was his mother.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘The thing is that I’m busy tomor row and the day after, so we’d better do the cleaning today.’
Emil began chewing. But his mouth was empty and he had nothing to chew on.
‘I can’t stay long,’ she went on. ‘I’ve got my sewing circle at Tulla’s tonight and I missed the last one, so I really want to go this evening. I’ll start the washing machine for you and then you’ll have to hang up the clothes yourself. You can manage that, 68
can’t you? Just make sure you reshape them before you hang them on the line, otherwise they get crumpled. And we both know you’re not very good at ironing. I’m just about to wash my own floors, so I’ll be with you in about an hour’s time.’
‘No,’ Emil said, frightened.
He regarded his mother as a cleaning machine, and now she would want access to every corner of his house. He visualised splashing water, foaming soap and his mother’s face slowly turning red. He recalled the strong smell of Ajax, the upset when the furniture was moved from its usual place, fresh air coming in from the windows, which she insisted on opening, the nasty draught, the unfamiliar smell of freshly washed bed linen. He imagined—
‘You know I have to,’ his mother insisted. ‘We’ve talked about this.’ Her voice started to quiver. Emil kept breathing into the handset, did not want to hear what she was about to say.
‘Have you had something to eat today?’ she went on. She cared about him, she always had. ‘You never eat properly. Have you heard about fruit and vegetables? I suspect you only ever eat bread, but your body needs more than that. You ought to buy some vitamins and take them during the autumn and winter, Emil. You can get them at Møller’s. I’m sure they would have some at The Joker; if not, they’ll order them for you. You just need to make an effort, you should take some responsibility for yourself, you know. It’s not as if I’m getting any younger,’ she banged on.
69
Emil threw a quick glance at the door to the bedroom. Then he looked at the clock.
‘Have you washed yourself today?’ she went on.
‘God only knows how often you wash your hair. I don’t suppose you do it properly either, standing there hunched over the sink. And anyway . . .’ she droned on, not expecting an answer, ‘do you dress up warm when you go out on the three-wheeler? It’s autumn now, you’ve got to watch you don’t catch the flu. If you’re sick in bed, you’ll be helpless: I can’t come over every single day. I’m busy enough as it is. Margot Janson from next door is still confined to her chair by the
where he lived. He parked and covered the vehicle with the black tarpaulin. His garage was full of junk; there was no longer any room for the threewheeler. He entered the house. In the kitchen he stopped and listened. Alert like a cat. He put down his rucksack on the table and took out his shopping. Opened the bag of monkey nuts and emptied a few into the palm of his hand. Softly he went into the living room. The door to the bedroom was ajar. He kicked it shut and stood for a while breathing heavily. The monkey nuts grew moist in his clenched fist. Finally he went over to the window. Emil kept a birdcage where a grey parrot the size of a pigeon sat on a perch. It began singing a pretty low tune to earn the monkey nuts. Emil stuck his fingers through the bars and dropped the nuts into the feeding tray. Immediately the bird ducked, grabbed a nut with its claw and sank its beak into it. A dry, cracking sound was heard as the nut split. At that moment the telephone rang.
It was his mother.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘The thing is that I’m busy tomor row and the day after, so we’d better do the cleaning today.’
Emil began chewing. But his mouth was empty and he had nothing to chew on.
‘I can’t stay long,’ she went on. ‘I’ve got my sewing circle at Tulla’s tonight and I missed the last one, so I really want to go this evening. I’ll start the washing machine for you and then you’ll have to hang up the clothes yourself. You can manage that, 68
can’t you? Just make sure you reshape them before you hang them on the line, otherwise they get crumpled. And we both know you’re not very good at ironing. I’m just about to wash my own floors, so I’ll be with you in about an hour’s time.’
‘No,’ Emil said, frightened.
He regarded his mother as a cleaning machine, and now she would want access to every corner of his house. He visualised splashing water, foaming soap and his mother’s face slowly turning red. He recalled the strong smell of Ajax, the upset when the furniture was moved from its usual place, fresh air coming in from the windows, which she insisted on opening, the nasty draught, the unfamiliar smell of freshly washed bed linen. He imagined—
‘You know I have to,’ his mother insisted. ‘We’ve talked about this.’ Her voice started to quiver. Emil kept breathing into the handset, did not want to hear what she was about to say.
‘Have you had something to eat today?’ she went on. She cared about him, she always had. ‘You never eat properly. Have you heard about fruit and vegetables? I suspect you only ever eat bread, but your body needs more than that. You ought to buy some vitamins and take them during the autumn and winter, Emil. You can get them at Møller’s. I’m sure they would have some at The Joker; if not, they’ll order them for you. You just need to make an effort, you should take some responsibility for yourself, you know. It’s not as if I’m getting any younger,’ she banged on.
69
Emil threw a quick glance at the door to the bedroom. Then he looked at the clock.
‘Have you washed yourself today?’ she went on.
‘God only knows how often you wash your hair. I don’t suppose you do it properly either, standing there hunched over the sink. And anyway . . .’ she droned on, not expecting an answer, ‘do you dress up warm when you go out on the three-wheeler? It’s autumn now, you’ve got to watch you don’t catch the flu. If you’re sick in bed, you’ll be helpless: I can’t come over every single day. I’m busy enough as it is. Margot Janson from next door is still confined to her chair by the
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