that's not what I meant. Please don't get angry, it's just me, I get really anxious sometimes,' he stuttered.
She accepted the key. Studied the new, shiny metal and looked at him with narrow eyes.
'The problem is,' she said slowly, 'it's a bit difficult for me to believe what you're saying. Because now I don't know if you really mean it.'
'I mean it,' he pleaded, 'please, please forgive me, I'm such an idiot.'
'God knows,' she said, somewhat appeased now. 'Well, well. I'm counting on you then. I'm relying on the fact that you've finally made up your mind and that you'll keep your word.'
She went out into the hall. Alvar stared after her. She opened the door and turned one last time. Then she sent him a look that made him wince. I know who you are all right, the ice-blue eyes said. I know how to handle you and I'm much stronger than you. The door slammed shut.
CHAPTER 23
In April, May and June she came and went as she pleased.
Alvar went about his business with a knot in his stomach. He thought of the knot as a grey tumour and imagined how it would spread to the rest of his body. How it would devour him from the inside, wrap itself around his internal organs and strangle them. He was always overwhelmed by relief whenever the flat was empty. When it was not he mobilised all his remaining strength to deal with her. Keep some kind of conversation going, give her money and get her out of the door as quickly as possible. His savings were dwindling dangerously fast and at times he caught himself longing for the moment when he would withdraw his last krone. Then it would all be over and she would have to go elsewhere. At the same time he knew that as long as he gave her money then she would not have to walk the streets, something he could not bear to think about. She would not have to make her frail body available to complete strangers, in an alleyway, in the back of a car or in some disgusting room.
She had kept her part of their bargain and he had not once returned to find her syringe on the coffee table. But she was often high. Then her eyes were so distant that he knew she must be in another universe where he was unable to reach her. If she were, he would wait in his armchair until she came round and then they would chat about everyday stuff. Often he was appalled at how little she knew about what went on in the real world. Her existence was narrow and dark, and it was all about satisfying her violent addiction to heroin. Nothing else mattered. She disappeared on a few occasions. Once she was gone fourteen days and Alvar became strangely restless. He did not understand why. Perhaps she has gone to another town, he used to think, or she might simply be sick. Not that he downright missed her, but he could not handle the uncertainty of it.
His neighbour, Green, had stopped talking to him; whenever they met, he would merely nod and disappear into his flat. They were probably wondering what on earth was going on, but Alvar did not have the energy to worry about it, and he could not cope with arguments or conflicts, so he nodded politely in return and pretended that everything was just fine.
He had become very fond of his cat. The kitten had grown in record time and turned into a fine, handsome animal. Of course, he ought to have him neutered, but he could not find it in himself to call the veterinary surgery and have this brutal procedure carried out. He could not bear the thought of witnessing the operation. He just did not have the strength, it was that simple. As a result the cat often came back home with cuts and tears all over his body from fights with other cats in the neighbourhood. And he clearly had an inbuilt alarm clock because he always sat on the stairs waiting for Alvar when he came home from work. If he was not there it usually meant that Lindys or Rikke or whatever her name was had let herself into the flat and let the cat in at the same time.
As he walked up the drive he could not see the cat. He waited for him on the bottom step for a while; he called out a few times to see if he would turn up. And then something grey and white stirred in the bushes. And the cat came towards him. He unlocked the door and went inside; the cat followed him. There was no one on his sofa. So she was probably not going to turn up today either; that would make it six days since he saw her last. The cat walked around the floor, sniffing. He followed him with his eyes, but when he went to lift him up, he hissed furiously at him. He was shocked. The cat had never hissed at him before. Perhaps he was hurt. He checked him for cuts and bruises, but he looked unharmed and healthy. He went out into the kitchen with the shopping he had just bought. Some bacon, a leek, a litre of milk, a loaf of bread. The cat followed him and went over to his bowl straight away and started to eat his pellets. Alvar diced the bacon with a sharp knife. He chopped up the leek and fetched eggs from the fridge; he wanted to cook himself a really delicious omelette. The cat ate until he was sated, then he returned to the living room where he was in the habit of settling down in an armchair or on the corner of the sofa. But today he did not do that. He stopped in the middle of the floor and started miaowing plaintively. Alvar followed and looked at him. He had a strong feeling that something was wrong, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was.
'Why don't you want to go on the sofa, Goya?' he asked. The cat miaowed again. So he went back to finish his cooking. That was when he heard someone open and slam the front door shut. And there she was, dressed in a pink angora jumper and leggings so washed out they hardly had any colour. The same ankle boots with those ghastly heels.
'Hi. What are you making?'
He glanced at her sideways from the kitchen and nodded. She joined him immediately and asked for a glass of cold water.
'I'm thirsty all the time,' she explained, leaning her head back as she drank. He nodded a second time. He did not really understand addicts, but suddenly it was rather nice that she had turned up. And she never stayed for long, he had to give her that. Most of the time she was simply sleeping on his sofa while he got on with his business. Also, she was not high and her ice-blue eyes were completely clear. How bright they are, he thought, as hard as jewels. Yet again he was struck by her transparency, her green veins, her pale cheeks, her skin stretched tightly across her bones. She put down her glass on the worktop and went into the living room. She settled down on her regular spot on the sofa. She called the cat immediately; her voice was soft and enticing. Alvar whisked eggs. He put the diced bacon and the leeks into a frying pan. The smell of bacon and leek began to fill the kitchen. Did she want anything to eat? No, she never wanted anything to eat. He did not believe that she ever ate. He would estimate that she weighed around forty kilos, a frail skeleton stripped of muscles. He peeked into the living room. She had got up again, and she walked across the floor to get the cat. He hissed aggressively at her. She straightened up, folded her arms and looked at Alvar, who had poked his head round the door.
'So what have you gone and done now?' she asked.
He had no idea what she meant. He rushed back to the stove to turn the heat down.
'What have I done wrong now?' He gave her a baffled look.
'The cat,' she said, looking at him and shaking her head at the same time.
'Yes, he's a bit odd today,' Alvar said, watching the cat. He had jumped up onto the windowsill where he was trying to hide behind a potted plant.
'Odd?' she said, exasperated. 'Is he odd?'
'What I'm trying to say,' he replied, 'is that he's been behaving a little strangely today. I think he might have been in a fight. He won't let me pick him up.'
Suddenly she walked up to him with long striding steps.
'But dear God,' she said loudly, 'haven't you got eyes in your head?'
'Yes,' Alvar hesitated. 'Of course I have.'
'No, you bloody don't. Take a look at him, go on!'
She pointed towards the windowsill, her finger quivering. Then she began to laugh out loud.
'Just look at the cat!' she ordered him.
'But what about the food,' he whimpered.
She quickly moved the frying pan away from the heat and nudged him into the living room. Alvar felt confused. But he did as he was told; he went into the living room and over to the window where the cat was pressing itself against the pane. His eye teeth were bared, they were sharp as needles.
'Is he pregnant?' he asked sheepishly.
At that she threw back her head and laughed heartily.
'Pregnant? Are you out of your mind? It's a torn, for God's sake!'
