criminals or from high court barristers.”
Even though she had spoken in subdued tones the scene had drawn a certain amount of attention. The few customers in the other half of the room had fallen silent and were openly watching the two lawyers. She lowered her voice even further, and said almost in a whisper, “Many thanks for the meal. It was very good. I don’t expect to hear from you again. If I do hear a single word from you about this case, I’ll report you to the Lawyers’ Association.”
“I’m not a member,” he smiled, wiping his lips with the large white napkin.
Karen Borg stomped out to the cloakroom, threw on her coat, and got home in one minute and forty-five seconds. She was furious.
The night was still young when she woke up. The digital numerals on the clock radio shone the time at her in their fiery red glow: 02:11. Nils’s breathing was slow and even, with funny little snores on every fourth breath. She tried to join in the rhythm, to link herself in rest to the big sleeping figure by her side, to breathe in unison, to force her smaller-capacity lungs to the same tempo as his. They protested by making her feel dizzy, but she knew from experience that after the dizziness sleep would usually return from its nocturnal elusiveness.
But not tonight. Her heart flatly refused to decrease its speed, and her lungs wheezed in protest against the change of rhythm. What had she been dreaming? She couldn’t recall, but the feelings of grief and impotence and indefinable anxiety were so overwhelming that it must have been something quite sinister.
She gradually eased herself over to the edge of the bed, and reached down to the plug of the extension phone on the bedside table and extracted it. Then she slipped out of bed as gently as she could, without waking Nils-she had had countless nights of practice-and tiptoed from the bedroom, pausing at the door to take her dressing gown.
Only a little lamp above the telephone table made it possible to see anything at all in the corridor. Karen felt round the cordless phone and lifted it gingerly off its base. Then she went straight through the door on the other side of the living room into what they called the office. The light was on; books on psychology covered the large thick pine desktop that was attached to two square supports descending from the sloping ceiling. Bookshelves lined the room from floor to ceiling. But they weren’t sufficient; in various places piles of books a metre high stood on the floor. This room was the snuggest in the house, and there was an armchair with a footstool and a good reading lamp in one corner. Karen sat down.
She knew his number by heart, despite having rung it only once in her life, just over two weeks ago. She still remembered the number he’d had as a student, having rung it at least once a day for six years. For some reason it seemed a greater act of betrayal to telephone him with Nils asleep three rooms away than to make love with him on the living-room floor with Nils out of town. She sat staring at the phone for several minutes before her fingers eventually, almost of their own accord, picked out the right digits.
After two and a half rings she heard a muffled hello.
“Hi, it’s me.”
She couldn’t think of anything more original.
“Karen! What’s the matter?”
He suddenly sounded wide awake.
“I can’t sleep.”
A rustling noise indicated that he was sitting up in bed.
“But even so, that’s no excuse for waking you,” she said apologetically.
“Yes, it’s perfectly all right. Honestly, I’m glad you’re phoning. You know that. You must always ring me if you feel the need. Anytime. Where are you?”
“At home.”
There was silence.
“Nils is asleep,” she explained, anticipating his question. “I pulled out the plug on the bedroom extension. Anyway he always sleeps like a log at this hour of the night. He’s used to me waking up and wandering about. I don’t think he’ll be worried.”
“How did the dinner go?”
“It was pleasant up till coffee. Then he started to go on and on. I don’t understand why he’s so interested in the boy. He was quite pushy, so I had to put him in his place. I don’t think I’ll be hearing from him again.”
“Yes, you seemed pretty livid when you left.”
“When I left? How do you know?”
“You left the restaurant at 22:04 precisely and virtually ran home, looking fairly irate.”
He gave a little laugh, almost apologetic.
“You beast! Were you spying on me?”
Karen was both indignant and gratified.
“No, I wasn’t spying on you, just taking care of you. It was a chilly way of passing the time. Three hours in a doorway in Grunerlokka isn’t exactly enjoyable.”
He had to stop and sneeze twice.
“Damn, I seem to have caught a cold. You ought to be grateful.”
“Why didn’t you show yourself when I came out?”
Hakon made no response.
“Did you think I’d be cross?”
“There was that possibility, yes. As you were yesterday, on the phone.”
“You’re sweet. You’re really sweet. I definitely would have been hopping mad. But I’m very touched to think that you were standing there all that time keeping an eye on me. Were you being Hakon then, or a policeman?”
There was a subtle invitation in the question. Had it been daylight he would have given a clever and diplomatic answer, as he knew she would prefer. But it was the dead of night. Without really deciding, he said what he actually thought.
“A prosecuting attorney doesn’t do bodyguard duties, Karen. A police lawyer sits in the office and doesn’t bother with anything except documents and legal cases. It was me myself on watch. I was jealous, and I was concerned. I love you. That was why.”
He felt satisfied and calm. Whatever her reaction might be. It came as something of a shock, and knocked him completely off balance.
“I’m probably a little in love with you, too, Hakon.”
Suddenly she burst into tears. Hakon didn’t know what to say.
“Don’t cry!”
“I’ll cry if I like,” she sniffed. “I’m crying because I don’t know what to do.”
She began to sob convulsively. Hakon had difficulty catching what she said, so he waited till she’d stopped.
It took ten minutes.
“I shouldn’t have wasted my phone bill on that,” she sighed at last.
“You can talk forever for the price of one unit at night. You can afford it.”
She was more tranquil now.
“I’m planning to go away,” she said. “To the cottage by myself. I’ll take the dog and a few books. It feels as if I can’t think here in the city. At least not here in the flat, and at the office all I’ve got time for is the battle to get through my work. Can hardly even manage that.”
She started snuffling again.
“When are you going?”
“I don’t know. I promise I’ll phone before I go. It might be a week or two yet. But you must promise not to ring me. You’ve been so patient.”
“I promise. Word of honour. But-could you say it just once more?”
After a short pause, she did.
“I may be a little bit in love with you, Hakon. Maybe. Good night.”
