That is the game.
Mia smiled to herself, but was unaware of it. She was miles away. Deep inside herself. The city didn’t exist. Justisen didn’t exist. The table didn’t exist. Beer didn’t exist. Skipping rope, yes. Satchels, yes. Doll’s dresses, yes. ‘I’m travelling alone,’ yes. Anaesthesia, yes. Pig’s blood, no: fake. ‘Bye, bye, birdie,’ no, not important. ‘Fly too near the sun,’ no, not important. ‘Who’s there?’
‘Mia?’
Mia was so startled that she leapt from her chair. She looked around, dazed, not knowing where she was.
‘Sorry, am I disturbing you?’
Reality slowly returned to her. Her beer came back into view. The room came back. And there was Susanne, standing next to her table, with frizzy hair, her jacket soaked from the rain, looking upset.
‘Hi, are you all right?’
‘Do you mind if I sit down? I can see that you’re working. I don’t want to intrude.’
Mia didn’t have time to reply. Susanne took off her jacket and collapsed on the chair like a drowned rat.
‘Sit down,’ Mia said. ‘No, it’s fine. Is it raining outside?’
‘Inside and out.’ Susanne heaved a sigh and buried her face in her hands. ‘I didn’t know where to go. I thought you might be here.’
‘And I was,’ Mia said. ‘Do you want a beer?’
Susanne nodded quietly. Mia went up to the bar. She came back to the table with two beers and two Jägermeisters.
‘Are you writing a novel?’ Susanne said, mustering up a feeble smile under her fringe.
‘No, it’s just work,’ Mia said.
‘Good, because that phrase has already been taken,’ Susanne said, pointing to one of the sheets.
‘ “Who’s there?” ’
‘What do you mean, taken? Where’s it from?’
‘It’s the opening line of Hamlet.’
Susanne brushed her hair behind her ear and drank some of her beer.
‘Are you sure?’
Susanne laughed.’
‘Yes, I should hope so. I mean, I’m the assistant director. I practically know the script by heart.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,’ Mia said. ‘Is it really?’
Susanne coughed slightly and suddenly switched to drama Susanne from Åsgårdstrand:
‘Who’s there? Nay, answer me, stand and unfold yourself. Long live the King!’
She took another sip of her beer and seemed a little embarrassed.
‘It’s not original. We can ignore it,’ Mia said quietly.
‘Ignore what?’ Susanne said.
‘Oh, nothing. So what’s happened? Why are you looking so miserable?’
Susanne sighed again. Pulled out her hair from behind her ear and tried to hide behind it.
‘The same old story. I’m an idiot.’
It was only now that Mia realized her friend had had quite a lot to drink already. She was slurring her words and struggled to steer the beer glass to her lips.
‘Actors. Never trust them,’ she continued. ‘One day they tell you they love you, and then the next day they don’t, and then they love you again, and then you believe them, and they sleep with one of the girls from the lighting crew. What’s wrong with them?’
‘Two faces,’ Mia said. ‘It’s hard to know which one is real.’
Two faces?
Playing with gender?
An actor?
‘Lying bastards,’ Susanne said, quite loudly.
Her voice travelled through the bar, and some of the other drinkers turned to look at them.
‘It’ll pass, won’t it?’ Mia said, putting her hand on her friend’s arm.
‘It always does. You just have to get back on the horse again. A never-ending merry-go-round, just like Ibsen’s Peer Gynt. Round and round, then suddenly life is over, and you never found your true love.’
‘You’re drunk,’ Mia said, and stroked her arm again. ‘And you’re talking rubbish. Why don’t we get you to bed?’
Mia was starting to feel quite drunk herself. She drained her beer and watched as Susanne tried to drink the rest of hers.
‘I always end up going home alone,’ Susanne said, wiping away a tear.
Mia’s mobile rang. It was Gabriel Mørk again. She looked up at Susanne.
‘Go on, answer it,’ Susanne nodded. ‘Christ, it’s not that bad. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, of course I am.’
‘Back in a sec.’
Mia answered the phone and walked outside into the beer garden.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Gabriel.’
‘What have we got?’
‘Another dead end.’
‘You didn’t find anything?’
‘Yes, the number is registered to a Veronica Bache.’
‘Excellent, Gabriel. Who is she?’
‘The question you should be asking me is who was she? Veronica Bache lived to be ninety-four. She died in 2010.’
‘How is that possible?’
‘She was old.’
‘Yes, I get that, but how is it possible for her phone to be active two months ago, if she died in 2010?’
‘No idea, Mia. I’m exhausted now. I can’t see straight, I’ve been awake for almost thirty hours.’
‘Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
She ended the call and went back inside. Susanne was no longer at the table but standing by the bar, swaying, trying unsuccessfully to convince the bartender that she was sober enough to buy more drinks. Mia gathered together her papers, put on her leather jacket and guided her friend out of the bar.
‘I’m not drunk,’ Susanne insisted.
‘I think you’ll be sleeping at my place tonight,’ Mia said.
She put her arm around her friend and led her gently through the wet streets towards her hotel.
Chapter 35
The woman with one blue and one brown eye was standing in front of one of the mirrors in her bathroom. She opened the bathroom cabinet and took out the lenses. Blue today. Blue eyes at work. Not different-coloured eyes. Not at work. At work, she wasn’t her true self. At work, nobody knows who I am. And, anyway, it wasn’t her real job, was it? It was just a cover. Just for appearance’s sake. She pulled her hair into a tight ponytail and bent forward towards the mirror. Placed the lenses carefully against her eyes and blinked. She put on a fake smile and studied herself: Hi, I’m Malin. Malin Stoltz. I work here. You think you know me, but you have no idea who I really am. Look how good I am at lying. Smiling. Pretending that I care what you’re talking about. Oh, your dog is sick? How awful. I hope it’s feeling better now. A glass of squash, of course, no problem, Mrs Olsen. Now let me change your bedlinen as well, make it more comfortable for you, there’s nothing nicer than fresh linen. The woman with one blue and one brown eye left the bathroom and went to her bedroom, opened her wardrobe and took out her uniform. Staff wore white: a good rule. When everyone wears the same, we become invisible. Unless our eyes are different colours. And now they aren’t. Now they are blue. As blue as the sea. Norwegian eyes. Beautiful eyes. Normal eyes. Sandwiches in the break room. Totally, I completely agree with you. She should have been kicked off the show, I certainly didn’t vote for her, that woman has two left feet. Dead faces. Empty. Vacant. Empty words. Lips moving below dead eyes. Did he really say that? Your ex-husband? How dare he! Yes, of course I’m on Facebook. Coffee. Eight o’clock. Sometimes I work night shifts. I park in the garage. But it’s not my real job, is it? Not really? No, reality is completely different.