soft track with the pine needles and long pine cones,” she whispered. “Maybe I’ll go to the canoe club and look in through the window at the back.”
“Is that what you do now?”
Eva nodded and puffed out her cheeks like a sulky child.
“What can you see?”
“Nothing,” she said, quickly and firmly.
“Nothing?”
“Just one little thing… I am writing on the road outside the post office with a piece of chalk.”
“What are you writing?”
“Nothing important.”
“And you can’t see anything through the window?”
“No… just a boy. I’m looking at a boy,” she slurred. “He’s lovely, really sweet. He’s lying on a narrow bed, a sofa bed. A man in a white terry-cloth robe lies down on top of him. It looks nice… I like looking at them. I like boys. I want to kiss them.”
Afterward, Eva sat there, her mouth twitching and her eyes darting back and forth over everyone in the group. “I wasn’t hypnotized,” she said.
“You were relaxed; that works just as well,” I replied.
“No, it didn’t work at all, because I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying. I made it all up. I just said whatever came into my head. It was all just in my imagination.”
“So the canoe club doesn’t actually exist?”
“Nope,” she replied tersely.
“The soft track?”
“I made everything up,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
Eva Blau was a person who exerted an effort never to give away anything about herself. It was obvious she was troubled by the fact that she had been hypnotized and had described events she was really involved in.
Marek spat silently into the palm of his hand when he noticed that Pierre was watching him. Pierre blushed and quickly looked away.
“I have never done anything to boys,” Eva went on, raising her voice. “I’m nice. I’m a nice person. Children like me. All children like me. I’d be happy to babysit, Lydia. I went to your house yesterday, but I didn’t have the nerve to ring the bell.”
“Please don’t do that again,” said Lydia quietly.
“Do what?”
“Don’t come to my house again,” Lydia said.
“You can trust me,” Eva went on. “Charlotte and I are already best friends. She cooks for me, and I pick flowers for her to put on the table.” Eva’s lips twitched as she turned to Lydia once again. “I bought a present for Kasper. It’s a fan that looks like a helicopter. It’s fun. You fan yourself with the rotors.”
“Eva,” said Lydia darkly.
“The rotors are plastic, soft plastic. It’s not dangerous at all, he can’t hurt himself with it, I promise.”
“Don’t come to my house,” said Lydia. “Do you hear me?”
“Oh, not today, I can’t come today. Today I’m going to Marek’s. I think he could use some company.”
“Eva, you heard me,” Lydia persisted.
Eva responded with a smile. “I haven’t got time tonight.”
Lydia’s face grew white and tense. She stood up quickly and left the room. Eva remained in her seat, gazing after her.
Simone hadn’t arrived when I was shown to our table at the K.B. restaurant. I sat down and wondered whether to order a drink while I was waiting. It was ten past seven. I had booked the table myself. It was my birthday and I was feeling happy. We rarely managed to go out in those days; she was busy with her gallery project, I with my research. When we did have a free evening together, we usually chose to spend it on the sofa with Benjamin, watching a film or playing a video game.
At twenty past seven, the waiter brought me a martini glass containing Absolut vodka, a few dashes of Noilly Prat, and a long twist of lime peel. I decided to wait a little while before calling Simone, but when the drink was half gone, I was starting to feel anxious and annoyed. Reluctantly I took out my phone, dialed Simone’s number, and waited.
“Simone Bark.” She sound distracted, her voice echoing in an empty space.
“Sixan, it’s me. Where are you?”
“Erik? I’m at the gallery, what’s…” Her voice died away; then I heard a loud groan. “Oh, no. No! I’m so sorry, Erik, I completely forgot. There’s been so much going on today; we’ve had the plumber here and the electrician and- ”
“You’re at the gallery?” I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice.
“Yes, and I’m covered in paint and plaster.”
“We were supposed to be having dinner together,” I said wearily, lowering my voice. I glanced around at the other diners, embarrassed at having been stood up.
“I know, Erik. I’m so sorry. I forgot.”
“At least we have a good table,” I added sarcastically.
She sighed. “There’s no point in waiting for me.” I could hear how upset she was and took some cold comfort in shaming her. “Erik,” she whispered. “Forgive me.”
“It’s OK,” I said. I pressed the button to end the call.
Well, there wasn’t much point in going anywhere else, and I was hungry and I was in a restaurant. I quickly waved the waiter over and ordered herring with beer for an appetizer, crispy fried duck breast with diced bacon and orange sauce for my main course, along with a glass of Bordeaux, and, to finish, a Gruyere Alpage with honey.
“You can take away the other place,” I said to the waiter, adding, in a mournful tone, “I’ll be dining alone, it seems.” He gave me a sympathetic look as he poured my Czech beer and set out the herring and crisp bread.
I wished I had at least brought my notepad so I could have done something useful while I was eating.
My mobile phone suddenly rang in my inside pocket. Ah, I thought. Simone was kidding; she’s on her way.
“Hi, it’s Maja Swartling.”
“Maja, hi.”
“I was going to ask- wow, there’s a lot of noise around you. Is this a bad time?”
“I’m sitting in K.B.,” I said. “It’s my birthday,” I added morosely.
“Oh, congratulations, it sounds like a big party.”
“I’m alone,” I said tersely.
“Oh.” She was silent for a moment. I didn’t expect what she said next. “Erik, I’m sorry I tried to seduce you. I’m so ashamed.” She cleared her throat and tried to adopt a neutral tone as she went on. “I was going to ask if you’d mind reading the transcripts of my first interviews with you. I’ve finished them, and I’m about to hand them in to my advisor, but if you’d like to read them first- ”
“Just leave them in my cubbyhole.”
We said goodbye. I poured the last of the beer into my glass, knocked it back, and the waiter cleared the table. He returned almost immediately with the duck breast and red wine.
I ate with a sense of gloomy emptiness, unnaturally aware of the mechanisms of chewing and swallowing, the muted scrape of my knife and fork against the plate. I drank my third glass of wine and watched the pictures on the wall metamorphose into members of my hypnosis group. The voluptuous woman gathering her dark hair sensually at the back of her neck, causing her swelling breasts to lift, was Sibel. The skinny, anxious man in the suit was Pierre. Jussi was hidden behind a strange grey shape, and Charlotte, elegantly dressed and straight-backed, was sitting at a round table with Marek, who was wearing a childish suit.
I don’t know how long I had been staring at the pictures when I suddenly heard a breathless voice behind me. “Oh, you’re still here! I’m so glad I caught you.” It was Maja Swartling. She was beaming and gave me a big hug, to which I responded awkwardly.
“Happy birthday, Erik.”
Her thick black hair smelled wonderfully clean, and a faint scent of jasmine was hiding somewhere at the nape of her neck. She pointed at the chair opposite me. “May I join you?”
