I Can See in the Dark

Chapter 12

One day, while I was sitting alone in the park, surrounded by all the green shoots of spring, Lill Anita came up the path pushing Miranda in her wheelchair. I knew she was called Lill Anita, I’d heard her on her mobile phone, hi, this is Lill Anita, she’d say, as if her being on the other end of the line was some sort of event in itself. Their approach was silent, the rubber wheels made no noise, but I saw the glint of metal as they came round the bend. They halted at Woman Weeping. Lill Anita attempted to explain something using large, clear gestures, and Miranda’s uncontrollable hand dabbed at her own hair. They arrived at the bench, the one they always used. The wheelchair was placed where they could reach each other easily, and the brake duly applied. A light pressure on the pedal, and the wheels were locked.

They glanced quickly over at me sitting by myself, they were used to me being on my own. Perhaps they guessed, quite correctly, that I had no one, not a single person I could call a friend, barely even an acquaintance, apart from my colleagues at Løkka, and I didn’t have anything to do with them when I wasn’t at work. Mine was a simple existence without any great responsibilities, but there was something missing even so. Sometimes I felt that this need was getting the upper hand. And making me desperate for closeness and companionship. But then it would recede again, and I would take pleasure once more in the freedom and advantages of solitude. I’d never exchanged a single word with Lill Anita, we were only on nodding terms. So I gazed at the fountain and the flowing water, the day held no promise for me, I was just killing time until my next shift.

Miranda was wearing a dress and, because there was a nip in the air, a pair of thick socks as well. They were patterned with some sort of yellow-and-grey zigzag, reminiscent of a snake. She had a bow in her wispy hair and chalky white trainers on her feet. Lill Anita was clad in studded jeans. The faded denim had several large tears in the thighs, so you could see the pale skin beneath. With all those studs, and a good deal of piercing too, she resembled a bed of nails. This apart, she was nice enough, with a wan, heart-shaped face and a pouting, pink mouth which I assumed would be quick to purse in sarcasm if she were annoyed. She tapped eagerly away on her mobile phone, busy sending a text message, her fingers, slender as noodles and tipped with black nail varnish, working rapidly. Miranda was left to her own devices. Her eyes rolled up in her head, and she slipped slightly over to one side; there wasn’t much backbone in that frail body. Occasionally she would bend backwards in a spasm. I wondered where they came from, these involuntary movements. Now Lill Anita began a telephone conversation, and I listened keenly, I could hardly do otherwise, as her words wafted in my direction. Her voice cut through the air. It had a particular, sharp edge.

‘Hi, it’s Lill Anita here. Yes, we’re in the park. Oh, God no, it’s not easy finding something to do every bloody day. And I don’t like going to the Dixie, people stare, I’m so sick of it, and Miranda’s just the same as other kids, she always starts making a fuss, then people gawp even more, I can’t bear it. Yes. We’ve just arrived. Well, the weather’s not too bad. Might as well sit here as anywhere. What did you say? You’re at the Dixie? Have you got that film we were talking about, is it on Blu-ray? Is it as good as everyone says? Can I borrow it?’

Here Lill Anita paused. She tended the child with a busy hand, smoothed her hair and straightened her dress, checked if she was cold, I don’t think she was. Then she looked over at me sitting on my bench. It was as if a thought had suddenly struck her, as if she’d seen me for the very first time. Her gaze was long, sober and appraising, it took in the whole of me, my slicked-back hair and my thin, stooping shoulders.

‘Sorry to trouble you,’ she said in a high, carrying voice, because I was some way off, and the water from the fountain made a certain amount of noise. ‘Sorry to trouble you, but I’ve got to nip over to the Dixie quickly to fetch something. You couldn’t keep an eye on Miranda for me while I’m away, could you?’

She leant over the wheelchair, straightened Miranda’s dress again; it was a beautiful dress, I don’t know how people can dress their children up like that when they’re on Social Security. She was doubtless on Social Security too, just like the alcoholic Arnfinn, that’s what the system’s come to now, you can manage for a long time without a job, some people spend a whole lifetime without contributing to society.

‘It’ll only take ten minutes,’ she added, ‘I’ll run all the way.’

She gazed at me under mascaraed lashes and gave the small pout of a wheedling child. As for me, I was completely dumbstruck. I couldn’t believe my ears. Miranda, that helpless, speechless child in my depraved custody. The two of us alone in the park by Lake Mester, a little disabled girl, entrusted to me and my whims, my defective impulse control. I checked the surrounding park several times, but no one else was in sight, just a few sparrows hopping about searching for food at the base of the fountain. They found nothing, only sweet wrappings and other bits of litter. Decomposing leaves from the previous year were rustling about on the ground, and there was a soughing from the trees lining the paved path. A gust of wind blew through the park ruffling my hair; quickly, I patted it down.

Keep an eye on Miranda. Had I heard her correctly? I took myself sternly in hand, making an effort to appear responsible. How long had we both been coming to the park by Lake Mester, Lill Anita and I? For at least a year, regularly. I had always behaved in a respectable manner. I was well dressed, too, in a decent jacket and trousers and, as I’ve said, we were on nodding terms.

‘I’ll look after Miranda,’ I promised, and rose from my bench. I walked calmly across the parterre, with slow, measured steps and open, candid hands. Although my head was seething. Although my fingers were itching and my whole body was tingling, I kept calm. That feeble, gesticulating child. In my care. Lill Anita jumped up straight away, finished her conversation and slipped the mobile phone in her pocket. She nodded at the path and over towards the café.

‘Ten minutes tops,’ she repeated. ‘I’m only going to collect a film. You don’t have to speak, she’s so hard to understand, I mean, for anyone except me. Just sit quietly on the bench. If she tries to wheel herself away you’ll have to stop her, she can be a bit difficult sometimes, but the brake is on. Make sure of the brake,’ she said breathlessly.

Then she ran off down the paved path. She ran past Woman Weeping in her studded, faded jeans, and then she was gone.

The wheelchair was a Plesner and seemed well equipped.

At the back there was a colourful netting pouch which contained a few clothes, a knitted jacket and a threadbare teddy with eyes of black glass. It was old and covered in burls, and quite smelly when I put it to my nose. But the child smelt of soap. It had a scent that was sweet, like wild flowers. Her trainers were clean and white; she couldn’t walk in them, their only function was to keep her feet warm. The laces were tied with a double bow. She immediately became restive when I seated myself on the bench, restive because her mother wasn’t there, and because she didn’t know me. I could read it in the attitude of her thin neck, and from the hands that fluttered over her lap, and I didn’t speak a word, I waited. The silence made her uneasy. One can relate to words, but thoughts can’t be monitored, and she was probably used to the various clumsy comments people make, what a lovely wheelchair you’ve got, can I see your teddy bear? Or similar inanities. Five minutes passed. I sat absolutely still on the bench with my hands in my lap, while my imagination ran wild. Miranda’s head lolled back and she opened her mouth. I could see her large front teeth, big as sugar lumps. Her feet in their white trainers were turned inwards, a wide belt held her in the wheelchair. It was fastened with a shiny buckle.

I glanced at the path. Lill Anita wasn’t in sight. So I quickly dived into my pocket where I had a packet of lozenges. I opened the packet and took one out, weighing it in my hand. It was a Fisherman’s Friend. Small, sand-coloured and oval, and so strong it brought tears to the eyes. And, seeing as Miranda was sitting there gaping like a baby thrush, I popped it into her mouth. At first nothing happened. The lozenge lay on her tongue where it slowly but surely began to melt, and to wreak its overpowering havoc. Then, the first tears appeared. Some saliva ran down her chin and on to the front of her dress, while I kept an eye out for Lill Anita who would shortly appear on the paved path. Miranda struggled desperately with the strong lozenge. She attempted to expel it with her tongue, but this proved too much for her limited powers of co-ordination, she couldn’t manage it. There’s something about drooling. It makes people appear moronic, but for all I knew this gasping little girl might be as sharp as the scythe I had at home. A sudden light in her eyes told me that her mother was coming at last. I rose from the bench and smiled soothingly. Assured her that everything was fine. Lill Anita ran the final few steps across the parterre.

‘Have you given her something to eat?’

She rummaged in the net at the back of the chair for some tissue, tore off a large piece and wiped Miranda’s mouth.

‘Only a sweet,’ I said in my defence.

Her cheeks turned a bright red. Presumably caused by a mixture of annoyance and shame, because she’d left her helpless child in the care of an unknown man who looked like a pike.

‘You mustn’t give her anything,’ she said angrily, ‘or it could stick in her throat. Good God! You mustn’t give her things, are you crazy or what?’

So that’s the thanks you get, I thought, and stared at the object she’d deposited on the bench. A DVD. Presumably she was going to watch it when evening finally arrived and Miranda was asleep. Those few, precious night-time hours without responsibility. I returned to my own bench, and they began making rapid preparations to leave. Lill Anita put the film in the net, released the brake, spun the wheelchair round and set off down the paved path.

Serves you right for leaving your child with a stranger, I said to myself. You wicked, slovenly woman.