Eva's Eye

19

Maja opened her arms wide and led her in. The previous day’s excesses hadn’t left a mark on the round face.

“Come in, Eva. You’ve brought the picture!”

“You’ll probably faint.”

“I never faint.”

They unwrapped the picture and leaned it up against the wall.

“Crikey!” Maja was dumbstruck. She studied the picture minutely. “Well, I’ll say this, it is a bit different. Has it got a title?”

“No, you must be joking.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d be dictating what you should see, and I don’t want to do that. You must look at it yourself, and tell me what you see. Then I’ll respond.”

Maja had a good think, and finally decided. “It’s a lightning strike. That’s what it is.”

“Well, not bad. I see what you mean, but I see other things as well. The ground opening during an earthquake. Or the river flowing through the town at night, in moonlight. Or glowing lava pouring down a charred slope. Tomorrow you might see something else. Anyway, that was what I was aiming for. You must try to rid yourself of your preconceptions about art, Maja.”

“I’m sticking to the lightning strike. I don’t like things changing and turning into something else. And now it’s you who’s got to rid yourself of preconceptions, my girl. I’ve got the spare room ready, you must come and see. Have you eaten?”

“Only drunk.”

“You’re worse than a baby, you’ve got to be fed. Could you manage to chew on your own if I make you a sandwich?”

She drew Eva into the apartment, into the spare room. It was a dark room with lots of reds, plushes and velvets and thick curtains. The bed was huge. It was adorned with a gold-fringed counterpane. The floor was covered in thick red and black carpet, which felt springy under their feet as they walked.

“These are your colors,” Maja said emphatically. “And I’ve a red dressing gown for you that’s easy to open. Made of thin velvet. In here” — she went to the far end of the room and pulled a curtain aside — “is a small bathroom with a basin and shower.”

Eva peered inside.

“You can work here while I’m at the refuge. I’ve had another key made. Come on, you’ve got to eat.”

“Have you done all this today?”

“Yes. What have you done?”

“Slept.”

“Then you’ll be able to work late.”

“Oh, God, I’m just not sure — if I really do dare, I thought one might be enough, the first time. Maja,” she said fretfully, “are there lots of ghastly types?”

“No, no.”

“But occasionally someone says something disgusting, or does something nasty...?”

“No.”

“But aren’t you afraid? Alone with strange men, night after night?”

“They’re the ones who are afraid, who’ve got bad consciences. In the first place, they’ve had to tell a whopping great lie to get away, then they’ve had to take money from the housekeeping to pay the bill. Going to a prostitute nowadays is terribly daunting. In the old days you weren’t a real man if you didn’t visit a brothel. Oh no, I’m never afraid. I’m a professional.”

Eva bit into the sandwich and chewed slowly. Tuna with lemon and mayonnaise. “Do they sometimes ask you to do special things?”

“No, very rarely. They get the information they need from the jungle telegraph before their first visit.” She opened a Coke and took a long drink. “They know I’m a proper prostitute and that certain sexual kinks are off limits. Almost everyone who comes here is a regular, and they know me. They know the rules and how far they can stretch them. If they start being silly, they won’t be allowed back, and that’s not a chance they’re willing to take.” She finished with a small belch.

“Are they drunk?”

“Oh yes, but only slightly. They’ve often had a couple. Many of them come straight from the pub down the road, the King’s Arms. But others come at lunchtime, in suits and carrying attaché cases.”

“Do they ever refuse to pay?”

“Never known it to happen.”

“Has anyone ever hit you?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t know if I dare.”

“Why should it be something you need to dare?”

“Well, I don’t know — you hear so many tales.”

“It’s when a man doesn’t get what he wants that he gets angry, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“They come here to buy something they need, and they get it. They have no reason to kick up a fuss. Is there anything wrong with going to bed with someone?”

“Nothing. Apart from the fact that many of them must be married, with children and all that.”

“Naturally, they’re the ones who come, they’re the ones who get too little. Married people don’t have sex with each other that often.”

“Jostein and I did.”

“Yes, to begin with perhaps. But how was it after ten years?”

Eva blushed.

“Or,” Maja continued, “do you think we girls ought to kind of save ourselves up for the love of our lives, that sort of thing? Do you believe in the love of your life, Eva?”

“Of course not.” She drank some Coke. “Have any of them fallen in love with you?”

“Oh yes. Especially the young ones. I think it’s really sweet, and I make a bit of an extra effort for them. Last spring for example quite a young man came along, he had a really fantastic name, he was of Spanish and French extraction. Jean Lucas Cordoba. Have you ever heard anything with such a ring to it? Just imagine being called that,” she said pensively. “Almost worth marrying just for the name, isn’t it? And then there was Gøran of course, I’ll never forget him. He was a virgin, so I had to give him some guidance about certain things. Afterwards he was very moved and grateful. It’s not easy being a virgin when you’re twenty-five and a police officer to boot. It must have needed a huge amount of courage to come here.”

Eva had finished her sandwich. She emptied her glass and brushed the hair away from her face. “Do you talk about anything?”

“We exchange a few words. They’re the same clichés every time, roughly what I think they want to hear. They really aren’t very demanding, Eva, you’ll soon find that out.”

She put down the bottle.

“It’s now ten to seven, and the first one is due at eight. He’s been here before, he’s actually rather a surly type, but he’ll be finished quickly. I’ll attend to him and say that there are two of us who’ll share the clients. And that we’re in the same line of business. Then they’ll know what to expect, and you’ll get the same kind of customers as me.”

“I wish I could hide in the wardrobe and watch you secretly,” Eva sighed. “See how you go about it. The most difficult thing is finding something to say.”

“There’s not much room in the wardrobe. You’d see better through a door that was slightly ajar.”

“What?”

“Well, you couldn’t exactly stand at the foot of the bed, but you could watch from the other room. We’ll turn off the light and open the door a fraction, then you can sit in there and look in. Then you’ll get some idea. You know me, I’ve never been shy.”

“God, I could do with a drink, I’m all shaky.”

Maja made a pistol with two fingers and shot her in the forehead. “Don’t even think about it! Stimulants on the job are forbidden. That’s when things start to go wrong, Eva. But afterwards we’ll go to Hannah’s and eat. I promise you one thing: when you start earning money you really begin to get a taste for it. Whenever I want something, I just put my hand into a bowl and lift out a wad of notes. I’ve got money all over the place, in drawers and cupboards, in the bathroom, in the kitchen, crammed into boots and shoes, I hardly know where it all is any more.”

Eva had turned pale. “Surely you haven’t got two million floating around the apartment, have you?”

“No, no. Only what I need for pocket money. The bulk of it is hidden away in the holiday cabin.”

“The holiday cabin?”

“Dad’s cabin. He died some time ago, so it’s my cabin now. You went there once, don’t you remember, a gang of us girls went on a trip? Up on the Hardanger Plateau?”

“Your father’s dead?”

“Yes, four years ago. I dare say you can guess what got him in the end.”

Eva politely refrained from replying. “Just imagine if someone broke in.”

“It’s well hidden. No one would think of looking there. And paper money is fairly flat, it doesn’t take up much room. I can’t exactly put it in the bank.”

“Money isn’t everything,” Eva said knowingly. “Perhaps you’ll die before you can enjoy it.”

“Perhaps you’ll die before you’ve even lived,” Maja countered. “But if I do happen to die all of a sudden, you are hereby nominated as my sole heir. I’d like you to have the money.”

“Well, thanks. I think I need a shower,” Eva said. “I’m sweating with fear.”

“Go straight ahead. I’ll get out your dress. Has anyone told you that you look lovely in black?”

“Thanks.”

“It wasn’t a compliment. I just meant that you always seem to be wearing black!”

“Oh,” Eva said bashfully. “No, not that I can remember. Jostein couldn’t bear it.”

“I can’t quite see what you’ve got against colors.”

“They’re — distracting in a way.”

“Distracting from what?”

“From what’s really important.”

“And that is...?”

“All the other things.”

Maja sighed and cleared away the glasses and plates. “Artists certainly aren’t easy people.”

“No,” Eva giggled, “but somebody’s got to take the trouble to emphasize the depths of existence. So that the rest of you have a surface to skate over.”

She went into the room that was to be hers and undressed. She heard Maja humming next door and the sound of clothes-hangers clicking. Maja’s room was green, with plenty of gold, and it made Eva think about her own black and white home; there was a world of difference between them.

The shower cabinet was tiny and had a large mirror as its back wall. It reflected her tall body, and she thought it looked strange, as if she’d already relinquished her proprietorial rights. Steam clouded the mirror. For an instant she looked young and sleek, with a pink tinge from the flowery curtain, then she vanished entirely.

“I mustn’t think,” she said to herself. “Just do what Maja tells me.”

She finished, dried herself, and walked out into the room again, which seemed cool by comparison. Maja entered with something red over her arm, a dressing gown. Eva put it on.

“Great. It’s just what you needed. Get yourself some red clothes, you look like a woman when you dress in red, rather than a beanpole. Can you do anything about your hair?”

“No.”

“OK. Then there’s just one little thing I need to show you. Lie down on the bed, Eva.”

“What?”

“Just do as I say, lie down on the bed.”

Eva hesitated, but then went to the bed and lay down in the middle of it.

“No, out to the side, the right side, otherwise you’re lying on the join.”

Eva pulled herself over to the edge.

“Move your right hand towards the floor.”

“What?”

“Drop your arm over the edge. And then on the side of the bed, can you feel something hard underneath the bedspread?”

“Yes.”

“Slip your hand under and pull it loose, it’s taped into position.”

Eva fumbled under the fringe of the counterpane, she felt something long and smooth fastened to the bedside. She gripped it and pulled. It was a knife.

“You see that knife, Eva? It’s a Hunter, from Brusletto. If you think it looks nasty, that’s the whole point. It’s to engender fear and respect. If anyone should try any funny business. If you slide your hand down and bring it up again holding that knife, while he’s sitting there with a bare bum and all his equipment out, I think he’ll calm down pretty quickly.”

“But — you said nothing like that ever happens.” Eva was stammering. She was beginning to feel unwell.

“No,” she said evasively, “just a few pathetic try-ons.” She bent down by the side of the bed and replaced the knife. Eva couldn’t see her face. “But occasionally someone gets above themselves. I don’t know everyone equally well. And then, men are so much stronger than us.” She fiddled with the tape. “In fact I forget it’s there. But I’d remember quickly enough if anything should happen, I can promise you that.” She raised herself again. The old smile was back in place. “I may be frivolous, but I’m not unprepared. Come here, you need a bit of lipstick.”

Eva hesitated for a moment, then crossed the thick carpet in her bare feet. This is a different world, she thought, with its own rules. Afterwards, when I get home again, everything will be as it was before. Two worlds, with a wall between them.