After writing in isolation for so long, being on the receiving end of this kind of attention was very strange.
At the bottom of the newspaper pile, I found a note from Line. She had taken Ironika to her family so I could have a lie-in. She didn’t say whether she had read the reviews, but she added a PS that she had unplugged the telephone.
I got up from the sofa, a little wobbly, and walked over to the windowsill where the telephone was. I had barely plugged it in before it started ringing. It was a journalist from Politiken, the first of countless reporters to call that day. When Line returned home four hours later, I was still sitting on the sofa with my duvet wrapped around me, cold coffee in my cup, talking on the telephone. Everybody wanted to speak to me and I let them, until Line pulled out the plug later that night. It was like coming out of a state of intoxication. I realized that I had eaten nothing all day. Ironika refused to talk to me, but Line made some food, which we ate on the sofa with the reviews spread across the coffee table.
Initially, after reading the reviews, she had no idea what to think, but the huge interest did convince her I was on to something.
She was proud, she said, and that was the best review I could have hoped for.
16
‘IT’S A BIT early to be drinking, isn’t it?’
Ironika gave me a reproachful look as I poured myself a glass of beer from the keg in the backroom behind ZeitSign’s stand. She had shoulder-length hair, dyed black, and wore slightly too much eyeshadow over her blue eyes. A tight black blouse emphasized her teenage breasts and a red gingham miniskirt over black tights with ‘random’ holes revealed her long, pretty legs. She was Line’s daughter all right, and it was becoming more obvious the older she got.
‘I had an early start,’ I replied and drank nearly half the beer before topping up my glass. ‘Besides, it’s been a bad day.’
‘Great, thanks,’ Ironika said and sipped her mineral water, the only thing she wanted from ZeitSign’s bar even though it was lukewarm.
‘Yes, until now, of course,’ I said, by way of a save, and smiled. ‘It’s good to see you.’ That was a lie. I would have preferred her not to see her father hungover and on the verge of a nervous breakdown. It was more than seven years since I had last seen her, apart from the photographs on my parents’ walls.
‘I’m here with some friends,’ she said. ‘And I thought I would stop by and get myself an autograph.’ She waved the book.
‘Of course,’ I exclaimed and grabbed it while I set down my beer and fumbled in my inside pocket for a pen.
‘Have you read it?’
‘Not yet,’ Ironika replied. ‘But I’ve read a couple of the other ones even though Mum hides them.’
‘She hides them?’
‘Yes, she piles them up in her wardrobe, like that would stop us or Bjørn, but I always find them.’
‘Yes, you’ve always been bright,’ I said and smiled to her.
‘I don’t like them … The books, I mean.’
I tried to maintain my smile, but she must have seen that it grew somewhat rigid.
‘But that’s probably just because I don’t understand them,’ she added.
I shrugged. ‘They’re not really suitable for children.’
Her eyes hardened. ‘Frank, I’m not a child any more.’
‘No, you’re not,’ I said quickly. ‘It’s just so long ago …’
At that moment Finn Gelf burst into the cubicle.
‘Frank, are you ready …’ He spotted Ironika. ‘Oh … you’ve got a visitor,’ he said with a sideways smile.
‘This is my daughter, Veronika,’ I said. ‘You’ve met her before.’
‘Of course,’ Finn exclaimed and stuck out his hand to her. ‘But the last time you can only have been … three years old, I think, so you probably don’t remember me.’
Ironika shook her head, but she still took his hand and pressed it.
‘So your dad brought you along to the book fair?’
‘Nah, he’s at home,’ Ironika remarked dryly.
I swallowed a mouthful of beer to hide my irritation. Judging from the expression on Finn’s face, he wished the ground would open up and swallow him.
‘I’m here with some friends, Stine and Anna. We’re going shopping afterwards.’
‘Uhu, that sounds expensive,’ Finn laughed. ‘But if you fancy some books, just let me know. On the house.’
‘Thanks, but I don’t think so.’
‘OK,’ Finn replied and nodded. A small pause arose. Finally, Finn turned his attention to me. ‘Frank, the interview starts in fifteen minutes and I’ve got something I need to show you first.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Give me a couple of minutes.’
‘Of course,’ Finn said and held out his hand to Ironika. ‘Good to see you again. Give my best to Line.’
‘I will,’ Ironika replied.
Finn Gelf exited and left us alone.
‘Is she all right?’ I asked.
‘Mum? Yes, she’s fine. Sometimes she overreacts for no reason, but she’s OK as far as I know.’
‘And Mathilde?’
‘She’s started secondary school. Teacher’s pet, she is.’
We laughed. I drank my beer. Ironika sipped her mineral water.
‘Tell me, why did you two really split up?’ she asked me out of the blue.
I nearly choked on my beer.
‘I think she still loves you,’ Ironika carried on. ‘She cuts interviews and reviews of your books out of the newspapers, and sometimes I hear them arguing about you.’
‘Eh, that’s a long story,’ I stuttered.
‘Was it because of me?’
‘No, absolutely not!’ I set down my beer and grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘Please don’t ever think that. Everything that happened was my fault, no one else’s.’
Her face took on a frightened expression, so I let go of her instantly and took a step back. ‘I’m sorry.’
Ironika shook her head. ‘It’s OK.’
‘Listen … I’ve got to go now,’ I said, my voice filled with regret. ‘But perhaps we could meet some other time?’
‘Maybe,’ Ironika mumbled and looked down at her hands.
I reached into my jacket. ‘But I want to subsidize your shopping trip,’ I said, rummaging through my wallet.
‘No, it’s OK, Frank, you don’t have to do that.’
‘Yes, yes, I want to,’ I said and pulled out all the notes I could find. Three one-hundred kroner notes and a crumbled fifty. It wasn’t much, but it was the only cash I had on me. I offered it to her.
‘No, please don’t. It’s all right. Mum has given me some money.’
‘Take it, for my sake,’ I said. ‘It would make me happy.’
She shrugged and accepted the money.
‘Take care of yourself,’ I said and gave her an awkward hug.
‘You too,’ she replied.
‘And let’s meet up soon, properly, OK?’
‘I’m not sure. I don’t think Mum would like it.’
‘OK, but if you change your mind, you know where I am. Any time.’
Ironika nodded, opened the door and slipped outside and into the crowd. She glanced back and raised her hand by way of goodbye. I waved eagerly. When she had gone, I closed the door and flopped down on one of the folding chairs.
I cursed myself to hell. Just how pathetic could I be? I hadn’t seen my daughter for seven years and the first thing I do is drink in front of her, call her a child and then try to bribe her. What a crap dad I was! I knocked back the rest of my beer and stared at the empty plastic cup. The anger surged inside me. I crushed the cup and got up with a sense of purpose.