Eva's Eye

9

Emma was back home again. It was a relief. Eva had no more thoughts to think, she’d merely gone over the same ones again and again, so it was better to have the girl around, with all the hurry and fretting that entailed. Now it was just a case of waiting. She took her daughter’s hand, her plump, soft hand and led her out to the car. She hadn’t said a word about the pink school bag that was waiting at her father’s; it was to be a surprise. She wouldn’t rob him of those shrieks of delight, his life had few enough of those already. Emma got into the back of the car and did up the seat belt herself, she was wearing a brown trouser suit which suited her quite well, and Eva had helped her with her hair. Her father lived some distance off, well over half an hour’s journey in the car, but after only five minutes Emma began to whine. Eva became irritated. Her nerves were at full stretch, she couldn’t take much more.

“Can I have an ice cream?”

“We’ve just got into the car. Can’t we drive to Grandad’s just once without buying anything?”

“Just an ice lolly?”

You’re too fat, Eva thought, you shouldn’t eat anything for a long time.

She’d never told Emma she was fat. She had the idea that Emma didn’t realize it herself, and that were she to say it out loud, her obesity would become a real problem for the first time. Become visible to Emma herself.

“Can we at least get out of town first?” she said shortly. “Anyway, Grandad’s waiting. Perhaps he’s made dinner, and we mustn’t ruin our appetites.”

“You can’t ruin an appetite,” came Emma’s uncomprehending retort. She wasn’t acquainted with the phenomenon, she always had an appetite.

Eva made no answer. She was thinking that school would begin soon, and then Emma would have to see the school doctor. Hopefully, there’d be several pupils with the same problem; it was a possibility as there were twenty-six in the class. It was strange, here she sat thinking about the future, a future she might not even have a share in. Perhaps it would be Jostein who’d take her to school. Manage her unruly hair, hold her chubby hand.

The traffic flowed evenly, and she stuck rigidly to the speed limit. It had become a sort of mania with her not to give anyone the excuse to stop her for anything, not to attract any attention. As soon as they were out of the town center they passed a twenty-four-hour Esso service station on the left.

“It’s easy to stop, Mom, if we want to get an ice cream!”

“That’s enough now, Emma!” Her voice was sharp. She relented and added in a milder tone: “Perhaps on the way back.”

There was silence. Eva saw the girl’s face in the mirror, with her round cheeks and the wide jaw she’d got from her father. It was a serious face, which had no inkling of the future, and all the things she might have to endure, if...

“I can see right down to the road,” Emma said suddenly. She leaned forward in her seat and stared down at the floor of the car.

“I know, it’s rust. We’re going to buy a new car, I just haven’t got around to it.”

“But we can afford it, can’t we? Can we afford it, Mom?”

She checked the mirror. No cars following. “Yes,” she said tersely.

The rest of the journey passed in silence.

Her father had been to the door and unlocked it. He’d seen her old Ascona from a long way off, so they gave a quick ring and walked straight in. His legs were bad and he was slow on his feet. Eva put her arms around him and embraced him hard as she always did, he smelt of Player’s cigarettes and after-shave. Emma had to wait her turn.

“The women in my life!” he cried joyously. And then: “You mustn’t get any thinner, Eva. You look like a black beanpole in that costume.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” she said, “but you’re hardly roly-poly yourself. So you see where I get it from.”

“Well, well. It’s good there’s someone who knows how to look after herself,” he said, and grasped Emma around the waist with a skinny arm. “Go out to my workroom, and you might find a present there.”

Emma tore herself loose and dashed off. Shortly after they heard her ecstatic glee all through the house.

“Pink!” she screamed, and came tramping out. It clashed horribly with her red hair, Eva thought sadly, brown would have been better. She tried to stifle the somber thoughts that assailed her from every direction.

Her father had ordered chicken from the shop and Eva helped him with the food.

“You’ll stay, won’t you,” he cajoled, “then we can have a bit of red wine. Like in the old days. Soon I’ll forget how to behave in civilized society, you’re the only one who comes.”

“Doesn’t Jostein ever come?”

“Yes, yes occasionally. There’s nothing wrong with Jostein,” he said quickly. “He phones as well, and sends cards. I like Jostein a lot, he really was a terrific son-in-law. Your mother always said so, too.”

Emma drank ginger ale and ate her chicken with reverence. Eva’s father needed some help cutting up his food. When alone he lived mainly on porridge, but he didn’t advertise the fact. Eva dealt with the meat for him, got rid of the bones, and poured the wine. It was a Canepa, which was the only thing his stomach could take, but by way of compensation he drank a lot of it. Now and then she loaded her food on to Emma’s plate. It was terrible, but all the time Emma was eating there was little chance that she’d remember the corpse in the river.

“Have you got anyone to share your bed with at the moment, young Eva?” he asked suddenly.

Eva’s eyes opened wide. “Well, what do you know, I haven’t.”

“Ah well,” he said. “Someone will turn up.”

“It is possible to live without all that,” she said flatly.

“You’re telling me,” he said. “I’ve been a widower for fourteen years!”

“And don’t try to tell me it’s been fourteen years since you were last in action!” she protested, “I know you.”

He chortled and sipped his wine. “But it’s not healthy, you know.”

“I can’t just pick someone off the street,” she said, sinking her teeth into a fried chicken leg.

“Of course you can. You just invite him to dinner. Most men would say yes, I’m sure of that. You’re a nice-looking girl, Eva. A bit thin, but pretty. You’re like your mother.”

“No, I’m like you.”

“Have you sold any pictures? Are you working hard?”

“The answer is no. And yes.”

“You must let me know if you need money.”

“I don’t need any. What I mean is, we’ve got good at managing without much.”

“Before, we never used to have the money to go to McDonald’s,” Emma put in loudly, “but we have now!”

Eva felt herself reddening. It was irritating, her father knew her only too well and was quick on the uptake.

“Are you keeping secrets from me?”

“I’m nearly forty, of course I’m keeping secrets from you.”

“Well, all right then, I won’t say any more now. But heaven help you if there’s anything I can give you and you don’t ask for it. I’ll get grumpy, you’ve been warned.”

“I know you will.” She smiled.

They finished the meal in silence. Then she emptied the bottle into her father’s glass and cleared the table. She worked slowly. She was thinking that this might be the last time she would potter about in her father’s house. From now on she’d always think like that.

“Lie down on the sofa. I’ll make us some coffee.”

“I’ve got some liqueur,” he said hoarsely.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find it. Go and lie down now, I’ll wash up and read to Emma in the meantime. Then we’ll have another bottle of wine later.”

He stood up with difficulty, and she put a steadying hand under his arm. Emma decided she’d sing to him, to send him off to sleep more quickly, and he was all for it. Eva went back into the kitchen, stuffed some money into the jam jar that held his savings, and filled the sink with water. Soon Emma’s voice rang through the house. She sang “Morningtown Ride,” until Eva was left bending over the washing-up, her tears of mirth and misery dripping into the suds.

In the evening she spread a rug over him and propped him up on a couple of pillows. They’d switched off most of the lights and sat in the semidarkness. Emma’s bedroom door was open, they could hear her snoring softly.

“D’you miss Mom?” she asked, stroking his hand.

“Every hour of the day.”

“I think she’s here now.”

“Of course she is, in some way or other. But I don’t know just how, I can’t work it out.” His hand fumbled over the table toward his cigarettes, and she lit one for him. “Why was she unhappy, d’you think?”

“I don’t know. Do you believe in God?” she continued.

“Don’t be silly!”

They fell silent again for a long while. He drank the red wine steadily, and she knew he’d fall asleep on the sofa and wake up with a backache, as he always did.

“When I’m grown up I’m going to marry you,” she said wearily. She closed her eyes and knew that she would drop off too, sitting with her head on the back of the sofa. She couldn’t be bothered to fight it. While she was here in her father’s living room, she felt safe. As she had when she’d been little and he could protect her. He couldn’t protect her anymore, but it was a good feeling all the same.