Authors: Tore Renberg
She can feel his breath in the room. Soon he’ll steal around the corner, soon he’ll come and lick her face. Veronika straightens up on the sofa beside her mother. They’ve been lying beside each other for almost two hours. Neither of them have stirred, nor said much. Sweetheart, you must never do that again. No. Do you promise me? Yeah. You’ll tell me, won’t you, if anybody does something bad to you? Yes. You’ll let me know, won’t you, if Daniel seems dangerous?
Her mother has stroked her hair, taken her hand and entwined her fingers in her own. They’ve breathed in and out together. Watched an episode of
CSI: Miami.
And now the wolf is here. Veronika doesn’t know how this day was born or how it is going to die. She doesn’t know if it’s been a horrible day or a fantastic day. She’s proud and she’s embarrassed, she feels whittled, she feels sharp. But he’s here now.
Veronika runs a hand through her hair: here is Daniel. He’s been to see his slut of a girlfriend. Has he licked her face? She fixes him with her eyes.
Daniel smiles. Not so much self-assurance.
‘Do we have anything to eat?’
Her mother shakes her head, shrugs, takes a deep breath.
‘No, there’s not much, I’m afraid. Some bread, maybe. You’ll have to take a look.’
He nods, doesn’t meet her eyes and walks to the kitchen.
Are you scared, Daniel? You held me close, you caressed me and you put your arms around me. But you don’t want me. You’re
letting me down, Daniel William Moi. Don’t you know who you want?
Veronika gets to her feet. She signs the word for ‘eat’ and makes her way towards the kitchen. On her way she tucks her T-shirt into the waistband of her trousers so the material is taut over her breasts.
There he is. Standing with the knife in one hand. His other hand on top of the bread. He’s slicing it. She opens the fridge, takes out the ham slices, as well as the butter, and places them on the worktop. Then she stands beside him. He smells of outdoors, he smells fresh, doesn’t smell of his slut girlfriend. The blade of the knife flashes in his sinewy hand and slices through the bread. Daniel cuts slowly. Veronika moves a tiny bit to the side, her body just barely making contact with his. Daniel doesn’t move.
Hm? Can you feel this?
He doesn’t move. A vein appears in his neck. He clenches his jaw, his teeth grind. Veronika reaches for the ham, allows her forearm to brush against his.
Daniel doesn’t move. She can hear his breath, she thinks she can see claws growing out of his paws. She can see his mouth opening, fat glistening on his lips, his tongue slipping out between his teeth. His head turns in the direction of the living room, she reads his lips: ‘Y-e-a-h-w-e-a-r-e-j-u-s-t-f-i-x-i-n-g-o-u-r-s-e-l-v-e-s-ac-o-u-p-l-e-o-f-s-a-n-d-w-i-c-h-e-s-h-e-r-e-t-h-a-t-s-f-i-n-e.’
She catches his eye, mouths: ‘I-a-m-n-o-t-y-o-u-r-l-i-t-t-l-e-s-is-t-e-r.’
His ears stand on end, his snout narrows. He mouths: ‘W-h-a-t-a-r-e-y-o-u-t-h-e-n?’
She takes his hand and presses it against her crotch. She mouths: ‘I-a-m-w-h-a-t-y-o-u-n-e-e-d.’
His lips move towards her, kiss her.
That’s what I thought.
I see your yellow eyes.
Nothing is settled yet.
Veronika feels his hand, slipping around her pubic bone, and feels the fingers of his other hand gently stroking the cuts on her face. She gives him her tongue.
‘Jesus fucking Christ.’
‘Huh?’
‘Shitshitshit!’
‘What?’
‘Holy mother of God.’
‘Huh?’
‘Tampon!’
‘Huh?’
‘Tampon!’
‘Where?’
‘There!’
‘Where? I can’t—’
‘There!’
‘Huh, where?’
‘There, for fu—’
‘I’m telling you, I can’t see—’
‘By the shop!’
‘Oh.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Oh holy fuck.’
‘That’s right.’
Rudi and Jan Inge have stopped at the edge of the woods, Rudi feels his adrenalin pump as he points down towards the shop on the corner, at the man standing there.
‘Oh no,’ says Jan Inge in despair.
‘Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.’
‘Has he seen us?’
‘Youcanfuckinbetyourasshehas,’ says Rudi. ‘I can feel his eagle eyes on us.’
Jan Inge wipes his forehead with a clammy hand.
‘Tampon.’
‘Tampon.’
‘Pogo.’
‘Tommy.’
Rudi spits and grates his canine teeth against one another. ‘That’s torn it, like my Dad, that badger used to say. And you know how seldom I mention him, or any of the other voles in my family. What the hell is Tampon doing here? Doesn’t he live on Mosterøy?’
‘He must be working so, you gobshite.’
‘Don’t call me things like that, Jani. It’s hurtful.’ A line forms between Rudi’s eyes. He doesn’t dare take his eyes from the man standing on the corner. ‘Working?’
‘How would I know,’ Jan Inge hisses, ‘what a guy from Mosterøy is doing in Madla. It’s a free country.’
‘Sure, all too free. Jesus!’
‘Keep it down, he’s looking at us,’ Jan Inge says. He’s speaking with the voice of a thinker now. The voice of a leader. Rudi finds that reassuring. ‘Look at him,’ Jani continues, ‘look at him standing there trying to psych us out.’
‘Pogo. Jesus fucking Christ.’
‘Please,’ says Jan Inge. ‘Not God and not His Son. You know I don’t like it when you’re profane.’
‘Sorry, it’s that foul mouth of mine. I’ll never get shut of it. You know as well as I do that if there’s one person who respects the Lord, it’s me.’ He shakes his head slightly. ‘Look at him. Standing there staring at us. That bloody beard and all. He was really young when he first got facial hair, did you know that?’
‘No?’
‘Oh yeah. Must have been in sixth class.’
‘That is young.’
‘Was a hard bastard, Pogo. None of us saw it coming.’
‘Jan Inge gives Rudi a quick glance, ‘The force?’
‘Rudi nods. ‘One day he’s laying into Ullandhaug-Remi with a nail-bat – you know Remi’s back was never the same? One day he’s laying into Remi with a nail-bat behind the greasy spoon, because
he happened to glance in the direction of Elisabeth from Springarstien, and the next thing he’s applying for—’
Jan Inge nudges Rudi in the side. ‘He’s on the move.’
Rudi blinks rapidly. ‘Andwhatarewegoingtosaywearedoinghere? We’re screwed now, amigo.’
‘Not so fast,’ says Jani, irritably. ‘Smile.’
‘Hm?’
‘In the name of Saint Catherine of Siena – smile! And let me do the talking.’
‘Youcanbloodywellbetyourlifeonit. And I hope you have a good explanation as to why we’re here. Leadership – now.’
Rudi puts on his broadest smile, but he gets the feeling it’s no more convincing now than when people ask him to smile for a photograph. ‘Shit,’ he whispers as he watches Tommy Pogo approach. ‘He’s kept away for months – you’d almost think he’d been on paternity leave or quit the force, and then he shows up here.’
‘Shut it. Smile. And let me do the talking!’
‘Yo! Tampon!’
He’s only a few metres away from them. Tampon keeps himself in great shape. He’s so in form and fit-looking it’s almost threatening, thinks Rudi. A healthy mind in a healthy body, as Granny used to say when she saw Rock Hudson on TV. Look at that. The beard covers up his harelip. The bright, blue eyes. The tanned, healthy skin. The shiny hair. Guy’s got muscles coming out of everywhere. Impressive looking, there’s no getting away from it.
‘Tommy Tang! Well, well, what’s the long arm of the law doing on the old stamping ground?’
Tommy gives them a cheeky grin, a grin Rudi can remember, a grin which made all the women in Tjensvoll, Madla and Gosen melt and dream of going on a date with Pogo.
‘Heh heh, indeed, was just about to ask the two of you the same thing.’
‘Heh heh,’ Rudi laughs in reply, ‘after you, sir.’
‘Heh heh. No, by all means, Rudi.’
‘Heh heh.’
‘Heh heh.’
‘Tam-pon. It’s a long time since we met around these parts. They were the days, eh?’
‘You’re right there,’ laughs Tommy Pogo. ‘Yeah, so I’ve just moved back. Living on Sommerstien.’
‘Hah.’ Rudi slaps his palms together. ‘There you go. Back to the land of childhood. You hear that, Jani, Tampon has moved home.’
‘I heard,’ says Jan Inge, in a strained tone.
‘And what are you two doing here?’ Tampon lets his gaze drift from Jan Inge to Rudi and back again.
Jan Inge’s face breaks into a broad, self-confident smile. ‘Will we tell him, Rudi?’
Rudi looks at his friend uncomprehendingly, his thoughts running around confusedly in his head, but he understands by the look Jani gives him that all he needs to do is follow his lead. ‘Yeah, let’s just spit it out.’
Jan Inge laughs. ‘We must be getting a bit sentimental in our old age, just like you. We were sitting at home – we’ve had lots to do recently, a load of work with our removal company – and it was almost as if all this moving we were doing for other people made us aware of how little we move ourselves, if you know what I mean—’
‘Yeah,’ says Rudi enthusiastically, ‘that we’re just over there in Hillevåg and never get the finger out—’
‘And then Rudi said: “Jani, I wonder how things are out in Madla these days. In Tjensvoll. In Gosen. In Haugtussa.” You know how it is, he’s from around here.’
‘I know that, heh heh.’
‘So here we are. Breathing in the diamond air of the eighties.’
‘Diamond air?’
‘Yeah. A comparison.’
Tommy Pogo’s smile lets them know he doesn’t believe a word.
‘So you’re living here. Your kids are going to school in Gosen then?’
‘Yeah, Ulrik’s in third year. Kia’s in first year. They’ve got a good set-up for her there.’
‘Oh, yeah, forgot about that acc—’
‘Yeah.’
‘Something to do with ski—’
‘Slalom. In Ålsheia. She’s paralysed from the neck down.’
‘That’s tough.’ Rudi shifts his weight from one foot to the other. ‘So. Heard about how things are with Remi, by the way?’ Rudi grins, but he can feel Jani’s eyes burning into him.
Tommy Pogo takes out his mobile and looks at it. ‘No,’ he says, putting the phone back in his pocket, ‘but listen, Rudi, now that I have you here.’
Pogo takes a step closer. He cocks his head a tiny bit to the side. Rudi moves backwards.
‘That key,’ says Tommy.
‘Key?’ Rudi says, his eyes flitting about.
‘The key to the centre.’
‘The key to the centre?’
Tommy Pogo smirks. ‘Rudi, come on, I’ve been wondering about it for almost thirty years. Where did it get to?’
‘Oh! The key to the shopping centre!’ Rudi relaxes and slaps the palm of his hand off his forehead. He laughs, and thirty years seem to disappear, and for a few seconds he feels like it’s old times, and he almost has to stop himself from giving Tommy Pogo a hug. ‘Heh heh,’ he chortles. ‘The key to the shopping centre. Christ. I’ll tell you where it’s got to.’
Rudi produces a bunch of keys, begins flipping through them and finally holds up an old Union one.
Pogo sticks his chin out. ‘Jesus,’ he says. ‘Is that it?’
Rudi’s eyebrows dance up and down.
‘You’ve held on to it,’ says Pogo, nodding. ‘Well! I’d better be off home,’ he adds, reaching out and shaking both their hands. ‘I’ll drop by one day.’
‘Yeah, by all means,’ Jani says, ‘by all means.’
Rudi smiles: ‘Sure thing. We’ll be home all right.’
‘Tomorrow,’ says Tommy Pogo, ‘why not tomorrow?’
‘Hey, why not,’ says Rudi, feeling Jan Inge’s eyes boring into him.
‘Good,’ Tommy Pogo says, ‘it’s agreed. See you tomorrow. Steak, chanterelle mushrooms and Brussels sprouts?’
‘Wha?’
‘My favourite meal.’ Tommy turns to go, but stops as though he’s just thought of something, spins back around and asks: ‘By the way – Tong, isn’t he getting out soon?’
‘Yeeah…’ Rudi notices his voice doesn’t sound right.
‘That’s right,’ Jani says swiftly, ‘he’s out tomorrow. Big day for us.’
‘Right, yeah,’ Tommy Pogo says, smiling. ‘Had a feeling he was out around now. Great. Then I’ll have a chance to catch up with him too. Apparently he’s had an okay time in Åna, or so I hear. All right. Talk tomorrow.’
Pogo walks off in the direction of Sommerstien.
Rudi shakes his head. Harelip Pogo. Strange to think of. Once he was in the Tjensvoll Gang, now he heads up Project Repeat Offender for Rogaland Police District. It’s screwed up how life goes. Once Tampon was his best mate, now Pogo is one of Rudi’s biggest problems.
Tomorrow,’ he sighs. ‘What are we going to do now? Call the whole thing off?’
Jan Inge shuts his eyes for a couple of seconds, before slowly opening them again. ‘We go through with things as planned. Tampon’s not going to suspect us after meeting us here and then calling in tomorrow.’
Rudi nods. Go through with it. Masterly.
Jan Inge looks at Rudi. ‘What was the story with that key?’
Rudi smiles. ‘Tommy and me,’ he says. ‘We got our hands on the key to the backdoor of Tjensvoll Shopping Centre. Nicked it from a coat in the break room. At first we used it to get in and knock off fizzy drinks and beer. But after a while we rented it out to people. We put a limit of two crates of beer each. Me and Tommy sat up in Vannassen and ran the whole thing. The police didn’t know what was going on. The alarm would go off, they’d drive down, but there was never anybody there. People just unlocked the door, got in and got out. The cops thought there was something wrong with the security system. Heh heh. It all went to hell when Janka couldn’t control himself. He filled a whole shopping trolley with beer. They copped on then.’
‘Nice all the same though,’ says Jan Inge, nodding. ‘That kind of style is right up my street.’
‘Yeah,’ says Rudi. ‘One of our better moments. Was Tommy who came up with it, of course. I probably would’ve just broken a window, gone in and picked up the beer.’
‘Yeah, that you would.’
‘Hah. The dark side lost a good man there.’
‘True. A kind of Anakin Skywalker in reverse, that Tommy.’
Rudi looks down at the bunch of keys, rubs the old Union one between his finger and thumb. ‘I’ve never been able to bring myself to throw it away,’ he says. ‘It felt pretty intense seeing him. Back here, like. Same old Tampon in a way. Somewhere or other inside that buff cop’s body is the mate I once had. Steak with chanterelle mushrooms and Brussels sprouts. Wasn’t a lot of that when Tommy was a boy. Did I ever tell you about the time we broke into Madlavoll School?’
Jani shakes his head. ‘No, don’t think so.’
‘Middle of the night. 1983. Tommy was always so bloody angry. You can’t see it any more. But he was, a fucking ball of rage. Hah. 1983. Middle of the night. Madlavoll School. Me and Tommy Pogo. We just ran through the empty corridors roaring and shouting. That was so fucking great.