I’d have to hit him again.
But at that moment, at that very instant, as I stood with the hammer raised and lined up above Arnfinn’s head, there was a ring at the door. I started like a thief. Nobody ever came to the house, and this was hardly a convenient moment. The hammer suddenly felt out of place in my hand, as if put there by something outside myself, an alien force. Obviously I couldn’t open the door. Presumably it was just a salesman, or someone collecting for famine relief in Africa. Or cancer research, or the blind: so many people come begging. So I stood in the middle of the room holding the hammer and waiting, as if frozen fast by my own evil deed. I listened, I counted the seconds, there was another, strident ring. Then I heard an alarming sound. I nearly lost my composure altogether when I realised what was happening. Someone was turning the handle of the door and opening it. And I remembered that the door wasn’t locked; I hadn’t turned the key again after Arnfinn had arrived.
Now, someone had opened it.
And that someone was at this very moment standing on the doorstep.
‘Riktor? Are you there?’
Then silence for a couple of seconds. There was the sound of light footsteps.
‘It’s only me. Are you at home? May I come in?’
I recognised the voice at once. Sister Anna was standing out there calling, she was the one trying to get in, angel Anna, that good fairy, suddenly here in my house. And here I was, clutching a blood-covered hammer. A miserable alcoholic was lying on the floor with his skull smashed in. A dying man. A moaning man. I laid the hammer on the floor and carefully studied my hands. I couldn’t see any blood on them. I stepped over Arnfinn and crossed the room quickly and went out into the hall. Anna was standing with one foot on the doorstep. She was holding a plate with a small cake on it.
‘Many happy returns!’ she said, brightening as I made my appearance. ‘I know you’re off duty. But you’ll have to put up with a little interruption on your birthday.’
I was overwhelmed by everything about her. The red dress she wore, the walnut-topped marzipan cake she held in her hands.
‘Happy birthday,’ she said again. And then, with a light laugh: ‘Have I caught you in the midst of some evil deed?’
I could only stand there and gawp. I couldn’t utter a word. My heart almost stopped and I felt boiling hot.
‘Maybe you’ve got a female visitor?’ Anna asked.
The question fazed me completely. I was about to nod, yes, I had, just to gain time, when a deep groan from the living room echoed through the house, and out to the door where we stood. Anna immediately became solemn. The cake dish tilted in her hand. She took a small step back and bit her lip, her eyes big with surprise.
‘You’ve got someone with you,’ she said uncertainly.
‘It’s my father,’ I replied. I said it quickly and without thinking. ‘He’s poorly,’ I added, ‘so he’s staying here a few days. Because he’s ill. He’s pretty frail,’ I went on, ‘he calls out whenever I disappear from view.’
I could have bitten my tongue off. I was beginning to get slightly manic, and I still hadn’t taken the cake.
‘Your father?’ Anna said doubtfully. Then she slowly shook her head. ‘Your father?’ she repeated sceptically.
‘I’m rather busy,’ I said clumsily. ‘Or I’d ask you in. For a cup of coffee. But there’s my father. He’s lying on the sofa in the living room. So it’s a bit inconvenient.’
She sent me a look of incomprehension, shook her head almost imperceptibly, as if there was something she didn’t understand. She turned and glanced over her shoulder, as if searching for an answer somewhere out on the drive. I could see that she was struggling to make sense of the situation. Then she held out the cake and nodded.
‘I see,’ she said. ‘Your father. Well, I’m sorry to hear he’s poorly. You must share the cake with him.’
I took the dish and thanked her. Anna retreated to the top of the steps, and stood there for a moment or two, as if considering. And I thought to myself, if Arnfinn moans again, it’ll all be over. Or perhaps it was all over anyway, because the excuse about my father had been a bit rash, and vague recollections of previous conversations, chats when we’d been sitting in the ward office, for example, had begun to plague my mind. What I’d revealed and hadn’t revealed over the years.
‘I’m sorry I took the liberty,’ Anna said, ‘of opening the door and coming in. But I was so certain you were in the house. You always say it yourself, how you like being at home.’
I couldn’t come up with any answer. I was still paralysed with fear at the idea that Arnfinn might groan again. But he didn’t, there was no sound from the living room. I made her a bow as I stood in the doorway, with the cake dish in my hands.
‘Thank you for the kind thought,’ I said, as effusively as I could. ‘You’re in a league of your own when it comes to birthdays.’
‘I think you ought to go back in to your father,’ she said emphatically. ‘When someone makes that sort of noise, it must be serious.’
Then she turned on her heel. She jogged down the steps and on to the drive. I caught a glimpse of her car; it was parked by the gate. Afterwards, I was totally bewildered. I could hardly believe what had happened, perhaps it was no more than a bad dream. And as I stood there like an idiot, with the cake dish in my hands, something reignited my fury, as if a spring within me was wound to breaking point. I slammed the front door shut behind me, dumped the cake on the sideboard and ran into the living room. I picked up the hammer from the floor, and stood there, legs apart, an enraged crook in my knees, seeing the prostrate Arnfinn through the red mist that hung before my eyes.
Then I began to lash out.
I pounded for a good while, the blows landing somewhat randomly, on his head and face, and also on his chest, my fury fuelling my strength, I’d never been so savage and demented. I kept going until I was totally exhausted. I stood staring down at his gory, pulped head. I could no longer tell that it was Arnfinn lying there. A grey and porridge-like substance had poured out of his nose. The membrane around his brain had ruptured. The contents were flowing out, running over his lips and chin.
Chapter 17
Afterwards, when my equilibrium had returned, I cut a slice of cake, put it on a plate and carried it into the living room. I sat and ate while I contemplated the object that lay on the floor. The cake was topped with pale green marzipan, and filled with raspberries and cream. The slice had a walnut perched on the icing.