'One of them had a new girlfriend. But then one of the others began to . .. you know. Chat her up. And then the first boy got so angry that he took a shotgun and shot her in the face. She died instantly.'
'I read about that. Why are you talking about it now?'
'I was thinking about Andreas. And about everything that could happen!'
'But surely you don't think anyone has shot him, do you? You don't believe that, do you?' She started crying again. 'No. But no matter how terrible it might be, I'd rather know about it than go around with this uncertainty. What did I do wrong, Irma?'
At this point I could have rattled off a whole long list of things, but it was too late for that.
'I think you should go home and go to bed,' I said firmly.
'Go to bed?' She looked at me in disbelief. 'Why should I go to bed?'
'You look worn out. It would do you good to get some rest. And you should stay near the phone. In case he calls.'
'In case he calls,' she repeated, like a faint echo.
'Or the police. When they find him.'
'I can't bear to be alone in the house. I'm going out of my mind.'
Good Lord! She came here to ask if she could stay with me, I thought. To stay in my house! I got up and moved nervously around the room.
'What is it, Irma? You look really upset.'
'No, well, I just feel so uneasy. When you tell me all these things. And I'm not feeling good, either. I really should be in bed.'
Runi got to her feet. She looked different. I waited to hear what would come next.
'Okay, I'm going,' she sounded bitter and she looked dumbfounded, hurt beyond words. I stayed where I was, giving her a guilty look.
'I don't understand you,' she went on. 'I've never understood you.'
'There's not much to understand,' I snapped.
Something started tightening inside me. I could feel it quite distinctly. I was moving away, towards somewhere safe where she wouldn't be able to reach me.
'Aren't we friends any more?' She gave me a searching look.
'There's so much you don't know,' I said.
'But you never tell me anything.'
'It's not worth hearing. I am best off alone.' She pulled on her coat. Picked up her handbag from the chair. Stood there for a moment, wavering. Her eyes filled with tears.
'When Henry left you, I tried to give you support. You weren't so high and mighty in those days. Have you forgotten that, Irma? And that time when you were sick. I've tried, at any rate. Just go to bed. I won't bother you any more.'
She made for the front door. I could have cried, I was so relieved to get her out of the house. At the door she stopped and gave me a quizzical look.
'What's that noise?'
'What noise?'
'Something in the cellar. Can't you hear it?'
'No, I hear . . .'
'Hush. Be quiet.'
'Oh. That.'
I glanced over my shoulder, towards the trap door to the cellar. And told her, as I realised what it must be.
'It's the boiler. It clicks like that when it's on.'
'Goodbye, Irma.'
I said nothing, just stared at her, thinking: Go now, Runi. Leave me in peace. As soon as the door closed, I turned the key in the lock. I stood there for a long time, leaning against a chest of drawers. When I raised my head, I saw my face in the mirror. Perfectly composed.
'My name is Irma,' I said aloud. 'And this is my house.'
I went down to the cellar and sat on the steps. I had the lantern in my hand. It's beautiful, I thought, the tiny flame and the light flickering across his face. Andreas opened his eyes. He didn't look scared. He just lay there, waiting. Then he caught sight of the lantern. I held it in front of his eyes. He frowned.
'Now you're making me very happy. I'm going to read to you from the newspaper. There's something I want you to hear.'
I smiled as I spoke. I liked the fact that he had to lie there and couldn't escape. That he had to listen to me. A man had to lie still and listen to Irma Funder and everything she had to say. A handsome man. One of those who thought everything in life was for him, the immortal type. You have to understand that this means a lot to a woman like me. I was making the rules now. Imposing them on him. It feels good to make the decisions.
'Listen to this. I can't understand things like this, I can't understand these kinds of people.' And then I read aloud: ' 'The Central Hospital today reported a story about a woman who contacted the casualty department on September 1 with her infant son.'' Andreas looked as if he were bored, or maybe asleep. But I knew that he was listening, I could see it in his face, and the hours dragged down there in the cellar. He had to take what little he could get.
''The child was examined, and the doctor determined that he was unharmed. The mother went home, reassured.''
Now Andreas was breathing rapidly and calmly, almost like a little child.
' 'Later the same night the woman telephoned the hospital. She had found her baby dead in his cot.'' Andreas opened his eyes.
' 'When asked whether the child had suffered any blows or a fall, the woman reported that earlier that day she had been attacked by two young men while taking a walk along the shore at Furulund. The men had stolen her handbag. The child, a four-monthold boy, fell out of the pram during the affray and had hit his head. She could . . .''
A gasp came from Andreas' lips. The eyes staring at me were like two black wells of terror. I looked at him in surprise, couldn't understand why he was so affected. He actually seemed frightened by the story.
As if something so monstrous had actually made an impression on him. I thought: There's hope!
''She reported that the child cried normally at first, but in the following hours, he seemed to sleep more than usual. The police have now instigated an intense search for the two men who may indirectly have caused the child's death. The Medical Examiner will perform an autopsy, which is standard procedure after a cot death – but the examination is expected to reveal whether the child may have died from head injuries as a result of the fall.''
I paused and looked at Andreas.
'Do you want more water?'
His eyes as he looked at me . . . I've never seen anything like it.
'Dead?' he whispered. 'Is the baby dead?' I looked at him. 'That's what it says. She found him in his cot. But they're not sure yet. It might have been a cot death. When they open us up,' I said, 'that's when they find everything out. How we lived, what we ate. Isn't that strange?' A spasm flitted across his face.
'A little boy,' I went on. 'Only four months old. Couldn't they have left her alone, a young mother with a pram? Cowards. Do you want more water?'
'I'd like a hammer in my head,' he groaned. I sat in silence, looking at him. 'Were you with Zipp? Did you come here together?'
Alarmed, he opened his eyes wide. 'How did you know that? How the hell do you know his name?
How . . .' The outburst made him whimper. 'Tell me!' he cried hoarsely. 'How do you know!'
'I know everything,' I said. I liked the expression on his face at that moment, the utter bewilderment. Then it changed to something else.
'He was here with me. He was waiting in the garden. He'll be here soon to find me. If he shows up, just tell him to leave.'
The chair, I thought. 'He's not coming,' I said aloud. 'He would have been here long ago, if he was coming. He has abandoned you, Andreas. Your best friend. How unpleasant for you.'
