Afterwards, they walked across the bridge together. At the fountain on the square they watched Skarre disappear alone into the twilight of the streets.
'Does Jacob have a girlfriend?' Sara wanted to know.
Sejer shrugged. 'Not that I know of.'
'Lots of women must be interested in him. Good-looking man. Funny too. Maybe he prefers men?'
Sejer stopped in his tracks. 'What are you saying?'
'Why does that make you so upset?' He started walking again. 'I'm not. I just don't think that's true.'
'You're acting as if I had said something offensive.'
'I think that's the way Jacob would have taken it.'
'I don't agree. He would simply have answered yes or no.'
'Don't ask him, Sara. For heaven's sake!'
'You're not scolding me, are you? Is that what you're doing?'
'No, no. But he might think that we've been wondering about it and gossiping. Don't take it up with him.'
'You're so sure that I'm wrong. Why does it upset you so much?'
'It doesn't upset me. I'm just telling you that I know him. And you might put him in an awkward situation.'
'So you don't think it's out of the question.'
'Sara!'
Then he thought about what Skarre had said.
'He's so good-looking.' Why did he say that? And the ponytail and the stud in his ear. No, everyone and his uncle has a ponytail. They walked for a while in silence.
'How difficult it all is,' said Sara, sounding surprised. 'How fearful we are.'
'Yes,' he said. 'I feel so uneasy myself sometimes. I don't know where I stand with you.'
'Right here,' she replied, squeezing his arm.
'Let's have some fun. See that doorway?' she said, pointing. 'The one over there next to the kiosk?'
'Yes?' he said, wondering what she had in mind.
'Why don't we go over there and make out?'
'Make out?' The words seemed to stick in his throat. 'In the doorway? You must be crazy!' Embarrassed he stared down at his shoes. 'It's 30 years since I stood in a doorway to make out.'
'Well then, it's about time,' she said, laughing as she tugged at his arm.
But he pulled her past the doorway, thinking all of a sudden that he felt so old when he was with her. Young too but occasionally old, because she was so playful. Because he couldn't let go of his proper demeanour and loosen up. Take chances. Kollberg's head came up to Sara's hips. She looked like a little girl walking a lion on a lead. They continued on in silence. Passed the Town Hall. THE COUNTRY SHALL BE BUILT ON LAWS. Sara admired the floodlit church.
'Could we at least walk through the cemetery and knock down a few headstones?'
Her voice was shrill and pleading. He coughed in dismay. 'Knock down headstones?'
'Just one?' she begged. 'A small one, that noone takes care of any more?'
He gasped, astonished at his own raw feelings. No-one had ever managed to touch his ideas about death. Did it affect Elise, the fact that they talked this way? Did it affect how he felt? Should he raise his voice and tell this woman off, make her aware that this part of his life was, in fact, sacred?
'You're out of your mind,' he mumbled.
'Don't you ever do anything illegal?' she said.
'No,' he chuckled. 'Why should I?'
'It's necessary and important. What if you die and you've never broken a single rule?'
'That won't happen. Of course I've done stupid things.'
'Tell me!' she pleaded.
'No, no.' He laughed in embarrassment. 'That's all part of my past.'
'I won't believe you unless you tell me some of it.'
He thought for a moment and then reluctantly began to speak. 'A long time ago . . .' he stopped and looked at her. 'A very long time ago, in fact, when I was just a kid, just so you know. Youthful shenanigans, the usual things, that's all part of growing up. I assume that everyone .. .'
'Why don't you get to the point?'
'All right.' He licked his lips. 'A long time ago I had a friend named Philip. I also had an old Ford, and we were always driving around together. And every time I drove over to pick him up, I passed a tollgate where I had to pay. Five kroner,' he said.
'That was a lot of money for a young kid. It made me angry every time I came to that tollgate. There was a woman in the booth who collected the money. She sat there year after year, sticking out her hand through the hatch. I would hand her the five kroner, she would raise the barrier and I would drive through. Every single time I went to get Philip. I would always stare with fascination at her hand. She had what I'll call 'kitty hands'.'
'Kitty hands?' Sara giggled.
'Soft white hands. And one day it occurred to me to put something else in her hand. Just for a change. Because she took it so much for granted that she was getting the money. Just to see what she would do if she one day got something else.'
'What did you give her?' she asked.
'I had picked up Philip. We arrived at the tollgate and drove up to the booth. She looked at us and stuck out her hand.'
'And you handed her a . . .'
'Dead mouse.'
'A dead mouse!' she squealed.
'It had been caught in the trap in Philip's room. And its tail was missing. But boy, did she scream!
Piercing is the only word for it. The mouse landed in her lap and she stood up so fast that she hit her head on the ceiling. And then she screamed again, and she didn't stop. Philip screamed too, while I stared at her with growing concern. 'Raise the barrier! Raise the barrier!' I shouted. And the barrier jerked up, and we raced out of there with the tyres of my old Ford screeching.'
Sara smiled with satisfaction.
'But do you know what?' he said. 'After that she was gone. She wasn't in the booth any more. Maybe she gave up because of the mouse. Maybe she was afraid that next time it might be a spider. Or a worm. Or heaven knows what. So actually,' he mumbled, 'we ended up chasing someone away from her job.'
'Don't you think you're exaggerating?' she said with a laugh.
'Why else would she vanish like that?' he said, sounding worried.
'There could be all kinds of other reasons.'
'I'm not so sure.'
They walked on, keeping in step. Sejer took shorter strides than was natural for him.
'But honestly,' she looked up at him, 'is that really the only thing you can think of to put on your list of transgressions?'
'That one not enough for you?'
'Quite a sweet story,' she admitted. 'But pathetic too.'
'Yours are, of course, better?'
'I'll tell you all about them one day. Late at night. Though it might be too much for you.'
'You are already,' he said. 'You're too much for me.'
'It's so hard,' said Sara all of a sudden, 'to live in the present. Right this minute. We spend most of our time in the past. Or in the future, about half in each. But to live in the present! Hardly anybody can do it. Except for children. Or idiots. Or sick people who have some kind of chronic pain that's always with them. And most of the time we're worrying about something.'
'But not you, surely not you?' he said. He wrapped his arm tighter around her waist, surprised at how different they were. They didn't really suit each other, or at any rate it wouldn't last for ever.
