The sense that I had done what I could, the only thing I could do, helped me relax. I flicked through the newspapers, ate some sweets and slowly drank my way through the bottle. Outside the rain slackened off. It didn’t stop altogether, but persisted stubbornly in its gentler form as it grew darker. People returned to their homes and lights came on behind the windows.
Suddenly, the light was switched on in the house I had been watching. I hadn’t seen anyone return home, but it could easily have happened while I read the newspaper. From my position, I couldn’t see directly into the living room, all I could see was that the lamp on the windowsill had been turned on. I had no way of knowing whether it was Bjorn, Line or the girls who had returned home.
I had no intention of contacting them, but as I sat there in the emerging darkness with the chill creeping through every layer of my clothing, I wished I was on the other side of that window, inside the warm living room with the cosy lighting where the sound of the rain couldn’t be heard over children’s voices and dinner preparations in the kitchen.
I closed my eyes and could almost smell the food cooking.
Tuesday
38
SOMEONE TAPPED ON the window.
The sound was loud and insistent. Slowly, I opened my eyes. It was morning. I squinted in the light and looked around to identify the source of the tapping. I was cradling the whisky bottle like a baby I was shielding from the cold. The glass was on the dashboard. There was still a drop left, but a feeling of nausea made me look away.
Someone knocked again. Close to me.
I turned to face the side pane and wiped away the condensation. Line was standing outside. She was leaning forwards, staring at me with a mix of incredulity and anger.
‘Frank?’
I think I mustered a smile, but it might have been a snarl because I had yet to surface completely. Slowly I found the handle for the side window and rolled it down. During this process the whisky bottle slipped from my lap and hit one of the pedals with an audible clonk.
‘What are you doing here?’ Line asked, before I had managed to roll down the window in full. She leaned forward even further, but flinched when the smell from the car hit her nostrils. She frowned slightly.
‘Hi, Line.’ My voice croaked and I cleared my throat. I was still drowsy from sleep and had no idea what to say. All I registered was a powerful urge to hug my ex-wife. ‘Any chance of breakfast?’
Line shot me a look of resignation. Her eyes scanned the car, the empty sweet wrappers, the newspaper and the whisky glass.
‘Have you been sitting here all night?’
‘Just a cup of coffee,’ I continued. ‘That would be nice.’
‘That’s not a good idea, Frank.’
‘I promise to behave … I … I’m not drunk.’
Line kept looking at me. Then she straightened up and glanced up and down the street.
‘There’s something I have to tell you,’ I said. ‘It’s important.’
She took a deep breath, still looking down the street as if to make sure we hadn’t been seen.
‘One cup of coffee,’ she said. ‘That’s all. I’m going to work in an hour.’
I nodded eagerly and started wriggling out of my seat. My limbs were stiff after sitting so long in the same position and I groaned silently as I got out of the car. Line had walked on ahead of me. She was wheeling her bicycle. The rear light was still on.
‘I’ve just taken Mathilde to school,’ she said, unlocking the front door. ‘I think she’s embarrassed I still take her.’
‘They’ve grown so big,’ I said. I cursed myself inwardly at the banality of my response.
Line sighed. ‘If only you knew,’ she said. As soon as she said it, she gave me a frightened look. She looked away again. ‘Sorry.’
I shrugged. ‘It’s OK … my parents keep me updated.’ That was a lie, but I hadn’t come to embarrass Line. In fact, I still didn’t know why I was here.
Much had changed since I lived in the house. Everything had been renovated and redecorated in pale colours. The furniture had been replaced and photos and bric-a-brac told stories of the inhabitants’ shared lives. I would like to have studied the photographs more closely, but Line carried on walking. The kitchen had been rebuilt and expanded to include a dining area and this was where we sat down. I was still wearing my jacket. Line hadn’t suggested that I take it off and I didn’t want to impose. The warmth in the house was welcome and I clutched the mug of coffee with both hands to drive the cold from my fingers.
‘What were you doing out there?’ Line asked after a moment’s silence.
‘Ironika visited me at the book fair,’ I said. ‘I barely recognized her.’
Line nodded.
‘She doesn’t want us to call her Ironika any more,’ she said. ‘She raised it herself at a family meeting some months ago. It took us completely by surprise. She just stood up and said she didn’t like being called Ironika and she wanted us to use her real name from now on.’ Line smiled to herself. ‘I was sad and proud at the same time.’
‘She has inherited her mother’s strong-mindedness,’ I said trying to ignore that Line had used the words ‘family meeting’.
‘The book fair was her idea, too,’ Line continued without acknowledging the compliment. ‘She didn’t tell me until afterwards.’
‘Yes, I was a bit surprised.’ I heaved a sigh at the memory of our conversation in the little cubicle. ‘I think she caught me at a bad time.’
‘She mentioned that you behaved a little strangely.’
I nodded. ‘These are strange times.’
‘Is that why you’re here?’
I shifted my gaze to the coffee mug in front of me. It was good coffee. Strong and warm, brewed from organic beans in a cafetiere. Line took milk or cream, but I always took my coffee black and she had remembered that.
‘I’m here because I’m worried about you,’ I said at last.
Line was about to say something, but I held up a hand to indicate that I would explain.
‘I’ve got a … fan,’ I began. ‘A very pedantic fan who has taken offence at some mistakes in my books. He sees it as his mission to educate me about my shortcomings, show me my errors, prove how it’s really done.’
Line threw up her hands. ‘There will always be people like that,’ she said. ‘I remember some of the letters you used to get—’
‘This is different,’ I interrupted her. ‘This guy wants to show me how it should have been done. Do you understand? He wants to
