The Redbreast

39

Gentlemen's Outfitter, Hegdehaugsveien.

2 March 2000.

'Wool quality, super 110,' the shop assistant said, holding the suit jacket for the old man. 'The best. Light and hard-wearing.'

'It will only be worn once,' the old man said with a smile.

'Oh,' she said, slightly nonplussed. 'Well, we have some cheaper -'

He studied himself in the mirror. 'This one is fine.'

'Classic cut,' the shop assistant assured him. 'The most classic cut we have.'

She looked aghast at the old man, who was bent double. 'Are you ill? Shall I…?'

'No, it was a little twinge. It'll go.' The old man straightened up. 'How soon can you have the trousers taken up?'

'By Wednesday next week. If there's no hurry. Do you need them for a special occasion?'

'I do, but Wednesday is fine.'

He paid her in 100-kroner notes.

As he counted them out, she said, 'Well, I can tell you that you will have a suit for the rest of your life.'

His laughter was reverberating in her ears long after he had gone.