The Wolves of Eternity, page 31
*
While I waited for Lisa to ring I lay down on my bed and read the Russian novel for a bit. Every time I paused I became aware of their voices in the living room downstairs. They clearly had plenty to talk about. And the alcohol would be helping the conversation along.
He didn’t just murder the old woman in the most brutal and horrifying fashion, planting an axe in her skull, he also killed her docile, downtrodden sister while he was at it.
The weird thing was that I could understand why he did it. To begin with, it had been no more than an idea. The kind of idea anyone could have. Once, while standing with a hammer in my hand, the thought had occurred to me that I could beat Joar and Mum to death with it if I wanted. It was as if the thought existed in the hammer itself and was transmitted to me when I gripped its rubber handle and felt its weight in my hand. A shiver had run down my spine at the realisation that such a deed was in fact possible, that I could actually do such a thing, and when I then used the hammer to drive in a nail I couldn’t escape the idea that only a thought stood between me and such a hideous act. What if that thought unravelled? What if the thought no longer protected me? Thoughts are so fragile. And this was exactly what happened to Rasko, his thoughts stopped protecting him. Without them, that fanciful turn of his mind was free to encroach into the real world. When at last he stood there in the old woman’s apartment, to all intents and purposes he had already killed her. Every barrier to the deed had already been crossed in his mind. All that remained were the formalities, like paperwork ensuing from a transaction.
But even if, like Raskolnikov himself, I knew what was going to happen when he stood in the apartment with the axe dangling from the designated loop he’d sewn inside his coat and conversed with the woman, who by now had become suspicious of him, I had to put the book down, it was simply unbearable.
It was a quarter past eleven and the darkness outside was dense. If she hadn’t rung yet, she probably wasn’t going to ring at all.
I might as well go to bed.
I saw Joar’s door still framed by a crack of light as I went past into the bathroom. But I didn’t want to keep on at him all the time, so I brushed my teeth and went to bed, avoiding the conflict.
After a while I switched the lamp on again and picked the book up off the floor to read the murder scene, not switching it off until Rasko was back out on the street.
I stirred when someone came up the stairs. It was Mum going to bed, I realised, and looked at the time. It was just gone two.
When next I woke, the room was full of light and Oliver was standing in the doorway.
‘Sorry to wake you, Syvert. I just wanted to say I’m taking your mother to the surgery.’
I sat up.
‘Why? What’s happened?’
‘It’s not an emergency. But she’s rather concerned about the back trouble she’s been having, along with that cough of hers. We talked about it last night and so I offered to take her in and let the doctor have a look at her.’
He smiled and lifted his hand to his temple as if in salute before turning and going back downstairs. A few moments later, I heard the car start and pull away.
Why had she told him and not me?
I was the one who should be taking her to the doctor’s, not him.
I lived here. I was her son, for crying out loud.
But no, not a word to me. Yet as soon as her smarmy brother-in-law turned up, she started confiding. All of a sudden there was something wrong and she needed a doctor.
But when there was no one else but me?
Nothing. Not a word.
I went downstairs to the kitchen, poured myself a coffee and drank it standing by the window. The weather was fine, at least. The sky quite as blue as the day before, the sun quite as bright, the trees perhaps that little bit greener?
I couldn’t understand what she saw in him. The way he bigged himelf up all the time. Flying down to buy a sailing boat. Trying to look young and cool with the clothes he wore.
I only hoped he wasn’t going to offer to come back and help out if she actually was ill.
I wouldn’t be able to stand it. I’d rather move out.
Why didn’t she tell me she was worried? I was perfectly capable of looking after her. She knew that.
Did she think I couldn’t manage to phone the surgery and make an appointment and then drive her over there?
I fried two eggs and sliced myself some bread. I was stymied without the car. I couldn’t do a big shop, couldn’t drive into town, couldn’t pick up Dad’s letters. The moped wasn’t an option, not when it was that far, and obviously not on the motorway.
I could get the bus, though.
But I probably needed to be in when Mum got back, in case it was something serious.
It was lung cancer she’d be scared of.
All that smoking.
I cleared the table and went down to fetch the post. There were some bills for Mum, some circulars and other bumf, and of course the newspaper. Nothing from the jobcentre.
When I dropped it all onto the kitchen table and went into the living room to read the paper, I felt a sudden impulse, opened the phone book at Dønnestad, and before I’d stopped to think about it dialled the first of the numbers I hadn’t yet rung.
‘Hello?’ a female voice said at the other end.
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Can I speak to Lisa, please?’
‘Lisa’s at school. Can I give her a message?’
‘No, it’s all right,’ I said. ‘Thanks all the same. Or no, wait a minute. What school would that be?’
‘She goes to the Cath, the Cathedral School. Who am I speaking to?’
‘Tell her Syvert rang. Syvert Løyning.’
* * *
*
To pass the time until they came back, I sat down in the living room with the Russian book that after a while became impossible for me to put down, though at the same time almost equally impossible to read. I so much wanted Rasko to get away, out of town, into the countryside perhaps, at the very least to get away. But he did the opposite. Not only did he go to the police station and behave in a suspicious manner, he even went back to the apartment where he’d committed the double murder! He could just as well have stuck a note on his forehead saying Guilty. How could he be so stupid? The police had him sussed immediately and were circling, waiting for him to give himself away. They couldn’t prove a thing, so in fact he was completely safe, even if he had no way of knowing it, but he had no idea how he came across, hadn’t a clue where he was at.
Make yourself scarce! Get away from there, then everything will be all right!
But no. He hovered at the scene of his crime, hovered at the police station, digging his own grave.
Now and then I lowered the book and looked out of the window, seeking respite from the novel’s claustrophobia, but also to keep an eye out for the car and to think about Lisa.
They got off at twenty to three most afternoons, or at least we did when I was at gymnasium school. If Mum and Oliver didn’t get back late, I’d be able to get there in the car, and if I could catch sight of her among the students piling out on their way home, I might have a chance to talk to her.
I’d never have guessed she went to the Cath. If anyone wasn’t the type, it was Lisa.
A fly took to the air from the windowsill and buzzed about a bit before heading into the kitchen. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in a long time. I put the book down and went after it. There were several of them, and I opened the window and chased them out with the newspaper. Just as I closed the window again, Mum’s car turned up the drive from the main road.
That hadn’t taken long.
It couldn’t be that serious, then?
I stood and watched the car approach and then pull up. The front doors opened, Oliver got out first and went round to the passenger side in case Mum needed a hand, and then they came towards the house, Oliver a few paces behind.
‘How did it go?’ I said when she stepped in through the door.
‘It’s too soon to say,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to go for some tests at the hospital next week. They’ll know more then.’
‘Tests for what?’
‘Cancer.’
She hung up her coat and smiled at me fleetingly.
‘They don’t know anything yet. It might be nothing.’
Behind her, Oliver came in.
‘Everything will be fine, I’m sure,’ he said.
‘I hope so,’ I said. ‘Does anyone want coffee?’
‘Yes, please,’ said Mum. ‘That’d be nice.’
‘I need to be making tracks, I’m afraid,’ said Oliver, looking at me. ‘You wouldn’t know the number for the taxis offhand, would you?’
‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘Do you want me to order you one?’
‘If you wouldn’t mind?’
While I dialled the number, the two of them went into the living room together and sat down. Oliver seemed restless and clearly wanted to be on his way. Mum was edgy too, I could tell, watching her through the open door as she brushed away some bits of tobacco after rolling herself a smoke, the way she glanced around as she inhaled, as if she didn’t want to see what she saw and was compelled to keep shifting her gaze.
‘Taxi’s on its way,’ I said.
‘Excellent!’ said Oliver.
I went into the kitchen and got Mum a coffee, put it down on the coffee table and smiled at her. Oliver stood looking out of the window.
‘It’s only coming from the shop,’ I said. ‘Three minutes at the most.’
‘There it is now,’ he said shortly afterwards. ‘Anyway, thanks for putting me up. Lovely supper last night, Syvert. And very pleasant company.’
Mum got up. He gave her a hug, then put his hand out to me.
‘Look after her, now.’
‘I will.’
He turned to look back as he opened the door of the taxi, waved and got in.
‘I thought his flight wasn’t until this evening,’ I said to Mum after he’d gone.
‘He has some things to do first.’
‘Yes, I can imagine,’ I said as I sat down.
‘We won’t say anything to Joar about this,’ she said. ‘All right?’
‘Of course.’
‘He’d only be frightened. And we don’t even know what it is yet. If it’s anything at all.’
‘What did they say, exactly?’
‘That was about it, really. That they wouldn’t know until the test results came back.’
‘They must have said more than that? I mean, they must have told you why they wanted to run the tests?’
‘Yes, of course. But they can’t say yet.’
‘Say what?’
‘Whether it’s cancer.’
We both went quiet.
‘Everything will be all right,’ I said. ‘I know it will, I can feel it.’
She didn’t say anything.
‘But I think it’s really important to stay positive,’ I said. ‘You’ve got to have faith. I read something about it once. There’s a much better chance of getting well, if you believe you will. Really believe, that is. But then again, it might not be anything at all. And if it is, chances are it won’t be serious. And even then, the treatment’s really good these days.’
She gave me a smile.
‘You’ve always been the optimist,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
I got up and went over to the window so she wouldn’t see that my eyes were moist. She’d never said anything like that before.
‘When’s your appointment at the hospital?’
‘Monday, eight o’clock.’
‘I’ll take you.’
She nodded.
‘That’ll be a big help.’
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
If I was going to pick up the letters and go and meet Lisa from school, I’d probably have to get going soon. But I couldn’t leave her on her own now, could I?
Another fly had got in. It kept bumping against the pane, as if unable to understand why it suddenly couldn’t get through the air any more.
It made a U-turn and settled on the back of the sofa.
‘Are you hungry?’ I said. ‘I can fix you something, if you like?’
‘No thanks. It’s kind of you, though.’
‘You didn’t have any breakfast either, not as far as I could tell.’
‘I can’t remember if I did or not. Perhaps I didn’t.’
‘You’ve got to eat, Mum. Eat and rest. That’s the way to get better.’
‘If I’m ill.’
‘If you’re ill, yes. But food and rest will still do you good.’
With every little lull, she withdrew that little bit more. It was almost as if she wasn’t there, as if she’d transported herself somewhere else instead.
It probably didn’t make much difference if I stayed behind with her or not.
‘Do you want some more coffee?’
‘No thanks,’ she said, and glanced up at me. ‘You’ll have things to do, I’m sure.’
‘I do have a couple of things to take care of in town, now you mention it. And we need to get some shopping done. Will you be OK? It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.’
‘Of course. You do what you like.’
And then she laughed.
‘I’m not dead yet, you know.’
I laughed, too.
She leaned forward and picked up her smoking things, then looked up at me again.
‘I will stop,’ she said. ‘Only not today.’
‘I understand,’ I said. ‘Anyway, I’ll get going. Just one thing, though. I’ll need some money if I’m going to do the shopping. Have you got any?’
‘Have a look in my bag.’
I did. Four hundreds and two fifties, besides a lot of change.
‘How much can I take?’ I called out.
‘As much as you need,’ she said.
How much was that? Krag had said a good wine. What price category was that? I couldn’t fob him off with something inferior, he’d spent hours of his time.
I didn’t like the idea of paying him with Mum’s money, but there was no other option.
‘OK, thanks!’ I called back, took three hundred and stuffed the notes in my pocket, picked the car key up off the table, poked my head round the door and said goodbye.
* * *
*
The hills in towards town were greener than they were only a few days before. The deciduous trees were coming into leaf and appeared light and luminous compared to the dark, heavy spruce, and the forest floor wasn’t quite as drab and rain-sodden, its browns and yellows had taken on verdant hues. But the green had yet to prevail. It was as if the forest were on the brink, I thought, yet to decide. To burst into life or retreat once more into asceticism. For now, it had put feelers out, that was all.
Maybe this was Mum’s last spring on earth.
For the first time, as if by some gust of insight, I understood what death was.
She wasn’t going to leave the world. The world was going to leave her.
Oh, shut up!
It wasn’t certain that she was going to die. It wasn’t even certain that she was ill.
People survived cancer all the time.
You couldn’t go around thinking the worst. The best could happen just as easily.
The road ran through a cutting that had been blasted out of the rock, the steep sides hemmed in behind heavy-duty wire mesh, and above, where the forest continued, I saw glimpses of grey-white that could only be snow.
It was almost like time was running slower here. As if it had only just got to March.
What if the spring really did retreat? What if the leaves and blossoms all of a sudden failed to appear one year? If it all stopped working and the system broke down?
We were so certain of that procession: winter, spring, summer, autumn.
But how did it arise?
Something to do with distance from the sun, I supposed. The closer we came to it, the warmer it got, the further away, the colder it got.
But wasn’t the earth’s orbit fixed?
I tried to picture its path around the sun as we’d seen it on posters at school.
Did the earth pass behind the sun?
It had to.
So we’d be looking at the back of the sun half the year and the front of it the other half?
Yes.
And the earth turned on its own axis, so that day became night.
But why was there a difference between summer and winter?
The road went over a short bridge and an inlet opened out to the right, enclosed by dense forest on both sides. I looked out at the sea that glittered in the sunlight. A ship that from its size could only have been an oil tanker lay motionless on the horizon. I glanced quickly to the other side, across the inlet that continued a hundred metres or so, to the little smallholding that lay a stone’s throw from the shoreline. I’d always thought it looked so quaint. The perfect place to live, if it hadn’t been so far away from everything.
I tried to imagine Lisa and me living there, but it was no use, she didn’t come across as the type who could live such an isolated life. I didn’t fancy it much either.
Maybe if we had kids?
Two girls and a boy?
Ten, seven and three years old.
Lene with the L from Lisa, Steinar with the S after me, and then little Merethe.
I couldn’t believe I didn’t know why summer came.
And did the earth really pass behind the sun?
What side were we on now?
A bus appeared up ahead and I slowed down a bit. There was a bend in the road, I could see there was nothing coming the other way, so I indicated and overtook. Not long after, the town lay stretched out before me. The clock on the dashboard said just after half one. I wouldn’t have time to go to the off-licence as well as to Krag’s before Lisa got off from school.
