I Can See in the Dark

Chapter 28

Margareth.

I hadn’t registered her surname, only Margareth. I went about savouring the name, moving it around my mouth, rolling it across my tongue, letting it fill my head and heart. Margareth. The name was like a little tune, the name was pleasant and warm, and perhaps just a tiny bit lonely. Margareth, Margareth. With beetroot juice on her lips, and her light blue eyes fringed with black lashes. I imagined a simple juxtaposition. Margareth and Riktor. Didn’t that sound like a couple, like two souls that belonged together? There was something about the chime and rhythm of the names, they went so perfectly together: Margareth and Riktor. Suddenly, I fancied that there was a more profound meaning to my life so far. Everything I’d undergone, the many interrogations and the forlorn cell, the false accusations. The betrayal. All the time I’d been journeying towards Margareth. I was certain this was right, certain that the future held something, something I needed and wanted, had always wanted. As if in a vision I saw it: an entirely new perspective. Margareth and me in the park near Lake Mester, together on a green bench. I paced around my cell thinking of these things, thinking of Eddie and Janne, and the joy of being a couple.

At length I sank down on the chair. The sanatorium on the hillside opposite, which I could see through the bars, had four rows of windows, and there were twenty windows in each storey, I’d counted them. It was no longer used as a sanatorium, but was now a rehabilitation centre for heart patients. I thought of all the people lying in their beds behind the windows, with hearts that suddenly, and possibly without warning, had stopped beating. Or beat irregularly, or much too fast, and I thought of their fear of dying. I imagined them lying in their beds with hands on chests, checking. These continuous contractions that are so vital to us. There was nothing wrong with my own heart, it beat steadily all day long with energetic persistence. What was it Arnfinn had said about his heart? It beat like an Opel engine. But during those interviews with Randers my pulse did occasionally rise.

De Reuter worked tirelessly.

He often popped in to my cell, or we would sit in a visiting room, but he realised I was managing fine and would soon leave again. Janson took me out into the exercise yard so that I could feel the sun on my face. I sensed it was warming me in a new and promising way now after my meeting with Margareth; I could almost feel the vitamins penetrating my skin. Janson would sit on a bench and smoke a cigarette, while I made slow circuits of the yard.

‘How old is Margareth?’ I enquired, halting in front of him.

‘Well,’ said Janson, taking his time. ‘She must be getting on for fifty, wouldn’t you think? Or maybe forty-five? She’s from the north,’ he said, ‘and she’s a widow. Her husband was killed on the railway, many years ago now. Nasty business. Some shock that must’ve been.’

‘Killed on the railway?’ I said in horror. I put my hands on my hips and looked aghast at Janson. ‘How? Was he in a car? Or walking along the line?’

‘It’s all a bit vague,’ Janson said, flicking the ash off his cigarette. ‘Don’t try asking questions about it, or she’ll chuck you out of the kitchen. She won’t ever speak about what happened.’

I went on walking in wide circles. I stuck my fingers through the wire fence that surrounded us, and smelt the scent of grass from the other side, the tang of the freedom which had been taken from me. It never occurred to me that I might be found guilty of Nelly’s murder because I had some belief in justice. But the other thing, the thing that had happened to Arnfinn, was quite a different matter. I could defend myself there, too, if it came to it. I peered up at the prison wall with its rows of windows, each covered by a grate of rusty metal. The surrounding area was dominated by the building, old and grey and ponderous, and the netting fence was topped with great rolls of barbed wire. They were like huge birds’ nests. But I knew that people had escaped. I had no such plans myself, and I was eagerly anticipating the start of my case. Then I would rise to my feet in court, stand tall, and tell the truth.

Again I stopped in front of Janson.

He was smoking his roll-up and squinting at the sun.

‘I don’t suppose innocent people are often found guilty, are they?’ I asked.

‘No,’ Janson said, ‘but it does happen. And the guilty are sometimes acquitted.’ He drew on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in big white clouds. ‘Either way, it’s equally bad in my opinion. But the system isn’t foolproof, and the law is the law. But Randers is notorious for getting at the truth,’ he went on, nodding towards the wing of the building where the inspector had his office.

I had to face the fact: I might have to serve years for a murder I hadn’t committed. While the other crime, against Arnfinn, remained undiscovered. The notion took my breath away, and I couldn’t whisper a word about it, to a living soul. I carried it with me in the same way as the secret about the skier who went through the ice. I couldn’t mention him either; people wouldn’t understand. I seated myself on the bench next to Janson. He exuded a friendly calm. As if life’s difficulties had never touched or troubled him. I enjoyed sitting there in the sun, with the cigarette smoke drifting slowly past.

‘You never get any visitors,’ he commented tentatively.

‘No, that’s right. And I’m not worried about it, either. I haven’t got that much to say to other people. Apart from Margareth, that is.’

‘There’s a system of prison visitors,’ Janson continued. ‘If you want, you can add your name to the list. Then you’ll have a visit every fortnight, or just once a month, if you prefer. That is, if we find someone.’

‘Prison visitors?’ I said, wrinkling my nose. ‘Who would want to do that?’

Janson trod out his cigarette. He retrieved the butt and put it in his tobacco pouch, which he slipped into his inside pocket.

‘Socially minded people. Often well into middle age. Or sometimes pensioners who’ve got a bit of time on their hands, they frequently volunteer for it. But there are younger people too, those who’re interested and prepared to give the time. The Red Cross organises the service for inmates who want it. So, what do you think, Riktor?’

I thought it over for a while.

‘What if I get someone I can’t stand?’ I objected.

‘Try to be a bit positive,’ Janson exhorted and gave me a slap on the shoulder. ‘Think about it.’

I stood up and began walking again. After a few circuits I stopped by the fence and gazed over at him.

‘At least Nelly lived to be old,’ I said. ‘And she died in her own bed. Because of some motive or other, I don’t know what. She also had a respectable funeral. Think of all those people who are never found. Who die in the forest without anybody knowing about it, or drown and end up at the bottom of a lake.’

‘It’s depressing all right,’ Janson replied. ‘It’s important to have a grave. D’you think about things like that a lot?’ He stood and felt his pocket. ‘Well, let’s be having you, then. Time’s up.’

I am innocent.

I lie on my bed, I sit by the window. I mooch around my cell, taking short paces, to and fro across the frayed, grey flooring. I splash cold water in my face and contemplate revenge. Revenge germinates down at my feet, and then rises, working its way through my system, sometimes I find it hard to breathe, because it’s thoroughly got the better of me. I plan to make someone pay for the misfortune that’s hit me so hard. The real culprit is sitting somewhere rubbing his hands. It’s unbearable. I count the hours and days and weeks, and de Reuter keeps me informed of the progress of the case. Every time he arrives he’s wearing a colourful tie. Mustard yellow with his dark suit, red or blue ties with the grey. Randers keeps fetching me for more questioning. He’s never going to give in, and I’m pretty worn out. I speak the truth for several hours and my lies are only white ones. I’m filled with righteous indignation. In my mind’s eye I see my own magnificent performance in court. And de Reuter explains about the layout of the courtroom.

‘The witnesses will give their evidence on your left,’ he says, ‘and the Public Prosecutor will be on your right. The judge and his two lay assessors will be directly opposite you, so you can look them in the eye. Do that thing, look them right in the eye. The courtroom is large and oval with blue, high-backed chairs. Windows right up to the ceiling. There are carafes of water, there are pens and paper and microphones so that people can hear. You must get there prepared, rested and well dressed. Don’t interrupt anybody, and don’t get worked up, make sure to keep your temper under control, that’s important. If something unexpected happens, it’s essential to keep calm. I’ll be with you all the way. Also, it’s possible I may correct you during the proceedings, if I think you’re breaking any of our rules or agreements. If I’m to get you off, I must be in complete control.’