The Asylum (35 page)

He helps them get ready and goes out. Andreas and Marie-Louise are still working as a team, joking and laughing behind him. Hanna and Lilian are already outside, and have stopped for a cigarette break. They are not laughing; they are whispering, their heads close together.

Marie-Louise and Andreas. Hanna and Lilian.

Jan feels excluded from both pairings, so he turns his attention to the children as usual.

‘Look at me!’ they shout. ‘Look at me!’

The children want to show how clever they are, playing on the swings and jumping around and building fragile sandcastles in the middle of the sandy, snowy slush. Jan helps them, but glances over
at
Lilian and Hanna from time to time, wishing he could hear what they are talking about.

When Marie-Louise comes outside the conversation stops, cigarettes are stubbed out and Lilian and Hanna help to gather the children together. But Jan sees them exchanging looks as they go back inside, like conspirators.

Marie-Louise doesn’t appear to notice anything; she stands on the steps with Jan, smiling at the children as they stomp back indoors. ‘They’re so good,’ she says.

Then she looks over at the wall surrounding the hospital and stops smiling. ‘Were you ever afraid when you were little, Jan?’

He shakes his head. Not when he was little. He was never afraid, not even of the atomic bomb, until he met the Gang of Four. ‘What about you?’ he asks.

Marie-Louise also shakes her head. ‘I lived in a small town when I was little, and nobody bothered to lock their doors,’ she says. ‘There were no burglars or muggers in those days … no dangerous criminals at all. Well, nobody talked about them, anyway. But there was an asylum in the middle of the town, and the mad people were allowed out sometimes … They wore strange clothes, so you could always tell where they came from. They looked nice, and I thought it was fun to say hello to them on the bus; they were always so pleased to have someone to talk to. Everyone else used to sit there, stiff as pokers, staring straight in front of them when some confused old soul got on, but I thought they were nice.’ She looks at Jan and adds, ‘So I used to say hello, and the old men would cheerfully say hello back.’

‘That’s nice,’ Jan says.

Marie-Louise gazes over at the high wall again, and almost seems to be talking to herself. ‘But such terrible things happen these days … There are such dangerous people in the world.’

‘Or we’re just more frightened,’ Jan says.

But Marie-Louise gives no indication that she has heard him.

That evening Jan makes another attempt to contact Rami. He pretends to set off home in the darkness at the end of the working day, but kills time walking around the nearby residential area instead, waiting for things to quieten down around the hospital. Then he goes up to the big rock above the stream. He puts down his rucksack, takes out the Angel and switches it on, keeping his eyes fixed on the hospital.

Fourth floor, seventh from the right. There is a light on, but no sign of anyone behind the bars.

Jan tries to make contact anyway. ‘Squirrel?’ he says quietly.

Nothing happens. The light stays on.

Jan speaks into the microphone several times, but there is no response. If Rami isn’t there, or if she’s asleep, then why is the light on? Is it always on?

In the end he switches off the Angel and makes his way back down the slope. He feels like a failure, rejected by everyone this Thursday evening. Perhaps not quite everyone – the children still like him, but if he plays with them too much, it looks odd.

Jan doesn’t want to look odd. That would attract Marie-Louise’s attention, just as Lilian has done.

He thinks about the quiet conversations between Hanna and Lilian over the past week, whispering voices that fell silent as soon as he walked into the room.

He heads back towards the town, but he isn’t going home. He is going round to Lilian’s tonight, to talk about Ivan Rössel.

48

JAN RINGS THE
doorbell and waits. He listens. He can hear the sound of voices inside Lilian’s house, but it could well be the murmur of a television.

It is Lilian’s older brother who opens the door. Jan doesn’t know his name. The man greets him with a nod and calls over his shoulder, ‘Minty?’

The television is turned down. Lilian’s voice says something incomprehensible, and her brother continues: ‘Your little friend is here.’

He turns and leaves the house without looking at Jan again.

‘You’re called Minty?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Why?’

Lilian shrugs her shoulders. ‘I eat a lot of mints. To keep my breath fresh.’

Her voice is lifeless, but at least she isn’t drunk. She has led Jan into the kitchen, and opens the fridge. He can see green bottles inside, but Lilian takes out a carton of milk.

‘Hot chocolate?’

‘Yes, please.’

She puts a pan of milk on the stove, and Jan sits down at the kitchen table. Party-Lilian from Bill’s Bar is nowhere to be seen; she looks more exhausted than ever as she sits down and hands him a full mug.

‘So Hanna’s told you about Ivan Rössel,’ she says.

‘Yes.’

‘And she’s told you he’s in St Psycho’s?’

Jan nods. ‘I’ve read a bit about him too.’

‘Of course you have – he’s a celebrity.’ Lilian sighs. ‘But the victims never become famous … No one wants to talk to a person who just cries all the time, I expect that’s why. So we withdraw and grieve, while the murderers turn into stars.’

Jan says nothing, but she goes on: ‘Have you spoken to Marie-Louise about this?’

‘No … only to Hanna.’

‘Good.’ Lilian seems to relax, and picks up her mug. ‘That’s good … Marie-Louise would inform the hospital immediately if she knew what was going on.’

Silence descends on the little kitchen.

‘And what is going on?’ Jan asks.

Lilian appears to be considering what to tell him. ‘A meeting,’ she says eventually. ‘We’re going to have a meeting with Rössel. Hanna has arranged it, along with one of the security guards at the hospital.’

‘A meeting about what?’

‘We want answers. We want to persuade Rössel to start talking. About John Daniel.’

‘Your brother,’ Jan says quietly.

Lilian frowns sadly. ‘He went missing.’

‘I know … I read about John Daniel too.’

She sighs again. ‘We want to know why it happened,’ she says, staring down at the kitchen table. ‘But there are no answers. Everything is just … darkness. And you think you must be dreaming – I felt like that for months six years ago, when John Daniel first disappeared. And then when I realized that I was awake and he was still gone, I thought I’d get over it, but you don’t get over it, it just gnaws away at you the whole time … And it’s worse for my dad. He believes that John Daniel is still alive. He sits there waiting by the phone, every single day.’

Jan listens and lets her talk; he feels like a psychologist.
Like
Tony. ‘But Rössel hasn’t admitted anything, has he?’ he prompts.

Lilian shakes her head. ‘Rössel is a psychopath. He lacks the capacity to feel guilt, so he admits nothing. He tells half-truths, then retracts them. The only thing he wants is attention … It’s like a game to him.’

‘Do you hate him?’

She gives him a sharp look, as if the answer is obvious. ‘John Daniel died; his life lasted just nineteen years. But Rössel has never been punished. He is looked after, he gets free food and accommodation. Life is good over there in St Patricia’s.’

Jan thinks of those long, empty corridors. ‘Are you sure about that?’

Lilian nods firmly. ‘Oh yes, especially for a celebrity like Rössel. He’s cared for, and he has peace and quiet. Medication, therapy, every kind of support you can think of. The doctors want to bathe in the reflected glow of his fame. But John Daniel, he …’ She looks down at the table. ‘He was murdered and his body lies hidden somewhere. And my life has been shortened as a result … That’s what grief and hatred do to you. You dry up.’

Jan almost asks,
Is that why you drink so much?
But he doesn’t. He has an idea of what Lilian has been through and how she feels about Rössel – he has felt something similar when it comes to Torgny Fridman and the Gang of Four.

‘So you’re working at the pre-school because of John Daniel?’

‘Yes. I thought I’d be able to make contact with Rössel myself, but I couldn’t do it. In the end I asked Hanna if she would help me, and she was more successful.’

‘But aren’t you worried about her?’

‘Because she goes up to the hospital? She doesn’t actually meet Rössel, they just exchange letters. There’s no risk involved.’

Jan doesn’t say anything, and eventually Lilian goes on: ‘Hanna is the only one who knows who I am … that I’m related to John Daniel. I never spoke to the press after it happened; my parents did all that. They posed for the media, holding up school photos and weeping straight into the camera. They begged anyone who knew
anything
to contact the police. But no one ever did. And now we’ve been forgotten.’

Jan thinks about everything Hanna has told him, and asks, ‘So what does Rössel want? Is he hoping to escape?’

Lilian presses her lips tightly together. She has more energy now. ‘Rössel will never be free. He might think so, but it’s not going to happen. He’s just going to talk to us.’

‘When?’

‘Next Friday evening, when there’s a fire drill at St Patricia’s. They’re going to practise a full evacuation, so all the patients will have to leave their rooms. The corridors will be pretty crowded.’

Jan remembers the elderly patients down in the basement chapel. Their vacant expressions.

‘And what will happen to Rössel?’ he asks.

‘Hanna’s contact … Carl … he’s going to let Rössel into the visitors’ room.’

‘Where you’ll be waiting?’

‘We’re meeting him in there, and he’s going to tell us where John Daniel is buried.’

‘Do you really believe that?’

‘I know it,’ says Lilian. ‘He’s promised Hanna.’

Jan wants to say something, but he hesitates. ‘Things can go wrong,’ he says quietly at last.

‘Yes, but we won’t be taking any risks with Rössel,’ Lilian says. ‘There will be four of us, me and my brother and two friends. We’ve gone over every single thing. I’ve let my brother into the Dell a couple of times just to suss things out.’

‘At night?’

Lilian nods.

‘The children have seen him,’ Jan says.

‘Oh?’

‘Mira saw a man standing by her bed one night … You’re not being as careful as you think.’

‘We’re careful enough.’ Lilian looks at him. ‘So now you know. Are you with us?’

‘Me? What do you mean?’

‘We might need some help. Someone to keep watch.’

‘Maybe,’ he says eventually. ‘I’ll have to give it some thought.’

On the way home he thinks back to what Lilian said about the fire drill.
The patients will have to leave their rooms. The corridors will be pretty crowded
. And of course Rami will be let out of her room, just like all the others.

Jan has booked a slot in the laundry room in his apartment block the following morning. He puts a white wash in one machine and a dark wash in the other, and switches them on.

On his way back upstairs he stops by the sign that says LEGÉN. He shouldn’t go bothering his neighbour any more, but Jan has realized that he actually likes the man. Legén is just himself.

He rings the doorbell and after a minute or so Legén appears.

Jan waves. ‘Morning, it’s only me. How are things?’

‘Fine.’

Legén simply stands there; he doesn’t invite Jan in, but nor does he close the door.

‘Would you like a cup of coffee?’ Jan asks. He feels as if it is time he returned his neighbour’s hospitality.

But Legén just scratches the back of his neck as he considers the invitation. ‘Is it a dark roast?’

‘Er … I think so,’ Jan says.

‘OK.’

Legén picks up a plastic bag from the floor and walks straight out of the door, as if he has been waiting to be asked for a long time. Jan leads the way up the stairs and into his apartment.

‘Bit crowded in here,’ says Legén, looking with curiosity at all the furniture.

Jan sighs. ‘It’s not mine.’

He goes into the kitchen, and a few minutes later the coffee machine is bubbling away. Legén is sitting at the table, and Jan has even managed to produce some biscuits.

‘How’s the wine coming along?’ he asks.

‘Good … It’s going to be pretty strong stuff.’ Legén sounds pleased with himself.

Jan takes a sip of his coffee and wonders how old Legén actually is. Seventy, perhaps. After all, he retired from St Patricia’s four or five years ago, so that should be about right.

They drink their coffee in silence, then Jan looks at the clock. It is five past ten – he’s forgotten all about his washing. ‘You stay there,’ he says to Legén.

When he opens the door of his apartment, he sees an elderly lady on the landing. A neighbour. She is small and thin, and she is carrying an overflowing laundry basket. She has obviously booked the slot after Jan, and she doesn’t look pleased.

‘I’m really sorry … I wasn’t keeping an eye on the time.’

The woman merely nods. Jan hasn’t even managed to close his front door, but suddenly she says, ‘So you’re friends, you and him?’

‘Him?’

‘Verner Legén.’

‘Friends?’ Jan says quietly so that Legén won’t hear. ‘I don’t know about that, but we’ve had the odd chat.’

‘And you’ve been inside his apartment?’

‘Yes … I borrowed some sugar from him.’

He smiles, but his neighbour doesn’t smile back. She just stares at him. ‘Did he have any weapons in there?’

‘Weapons?’

‘Knives, guns …’ she says. ‘I mean, that’s the sort of thing you worry about, as a neighbour.’

Jan doesn’t understand, but shakes his head.

‘No, I suppose he’s quietened down these days,’ the woman says to herself. ‘He’s getting on a bit, after all.’

There is an awkward silence. The woman sets off down the stairs to the laundry room, but Jan doesn’t move.

In the end he has to ask the question: ‘Has Legén had weapons in the past?’