Shesat back down beside the telephone, held it and looked up. 'Happy?' 'No,' hesaid, irritated, still provoked and aggressive because she had put on her cooltone – she seemed to be sitting there and making a fool of him.
Thenher eyes flashed. 'I have to make a call. Would you please go away and let metalk in peace.'
'Whoare you ringing?'
'It'sgot nothing to do with you.'
OleEidesen felt the blood drain from his face. 'It's nothing to do with me?'
Katrinesighed and crossed her legs before adjusting the towel. 'Ole,' she said, 'dropit.' 'I want to know who you're ringing.'
'Why?'
'Because.'
'Ole,I never ask you who you ring.'
'ButI want to know who you're ringing.'
Shetook a deep breath and closed her eyes. 'Why?'
'Ihave a right.'
Hereyes narrowed. He hated it when her eyes narrowed, hated the determination thatlay behind her cold, hard blue eyes.
'Ole.Don't start. You have to respect my wishes.'
Heclosed his eyes for a second. He didn't want to feel this. But it came. He wasunable to stop: 'Closing the door on me is not right.'
'Whatdid you say?'
'Don'tclose the door on me.'
'Idecide if I want to be alone,' Katrine said in a low snarl. 'And everyone hasto respect that. You, too.'
'You'renot alone if you're talking to other people.'
Katrinedug deep. She stared at the wall as though counting to herself. Then shegroaned and said in a low, imploring voice: 'Ole, don't. I've had enough ofjealous men!'
'Iwant to know who you're ringing. You have no right to be so secretive.'
Katrine,cool, almost in a whisper, 'Don't I?'
Oletook a sudden step forward. Before he knew what he was doing, he had grabbedher plait and pulled her into a standing position.
'Ow,'she screamed, tottering forwards. She lost her towel; a soft breast fellagainst his arm. 'Let me go!' she gasped.
Justas suddenly as he had grabbed her, he let go, his innards cold as ice. 'Sorry,'he stammered and moved to embrace her. But she was juggling with the towel andshoved him away with tears in her eyes. 'Out,' she said.
'I'mso sorry.'
Sheput a hand to her hair. 'You're completely insane.'
'Isaid sorry, didn't I!'
'AndI'm asking you to go,' she screamed. 'Out. I have to make a call.'
Stupefied,Ole backed into the sitting room. 'You have no right to keep secrets from me,'he mumbled. 'You have no fucking right!'
'Out!'Katrine hissed. And slammed the door again.
Olesat staring at the outline of her body through the wavy glass. Watching herpull herself together, get up and stand in front of the mirror with her back tohim. She paced to and fro. He followed the silhouette of her body as she satdown beside the telephone and took the receiver. He saw how her body languagechanged, how she flicked her hair and brushed it with long, casual strokes. Hervoice was low and tender, a voice talking to another person, a voicearticulating words he could not distinguish. He could hear her laughter,though. In the pit of his stomach, the embers of jealousy smouldered. He wantedto know who she was calling. She couldn't bloody do this. She would soonfucking see what happened if she went on like this.
Thecrowd cheered. Ole Eidesen watched the slow-motion replay. Frode Olsen,horizontal in the air, got three finger tips to the ball and pushed it over thebar. A blue Molde player clenched both fists in a demonstration to thespectators of how disappointed he was. Ole wasn't interested. He couldn't gethis mind off Katrine, who had now cradled the receiver and was about to callanother number. In his heart he was cold. She was cheating on him. She wassitting three metres away from him and cheating on him. Before his very eyes.
Chapter Three
Annabethand Bjørn had set the table in the large L-shaped room. The table wasL-shaped, too. The longest part of the table had been placed in-the longestpart of the room. There was a neatly written place card on every plate. Katrinehad been given a seat at the rectangle forming the short end of the letter L.Most of the guests were unknown to her. The only ones Katrine knew were thosefrom the rehab centre; from where she sat, she could see just Sigrid andAnnabeth. Annabeth's husband, Bjørn Gerhardsen, was opposite her. Thiscould become tricky, she had thought as for a few brief minutes they stoodfacing each other. This could become very tricky. But Ole was there too, in thechair next to him as it happened. Ole and a plump guy she knew from sight at thecentre; she had no idea what his name was – he may have had some function onthe administrative board. In addition, she had an inkling that he was gay. Hehad all the buffoonery and the feminine movements. Between Ole and the gay mansat a woman in her late twenties. She didn't know her, either, although Oleseemed quite taken by her; he was indulging in furtive sidelong glances. Thewoman for her part was encouraging him by playing coy. That didn't bode well,thought Katrine, who had been able to study the woman's figure for the briefmoments they had stood before taking a seat – she was not that tall, yet shehad endlessly long, nylon-clad legs. The legs took the focus off other details,such as lifeless hair with split ends and stubby fingers with nails chewed downto the stumps. However, the face, despite a few irregular features, bore a deepsensuality with two sensitive eyes and wonderful, golden skin. The fact thatthe chemistry between Ole and the unknown woman seemed to be working so wellled Katrine to examine her own feelings. She wondered whether Ole's undisguisedinterest in the other woman ought to have made her feel jealous. The strangething was that it did not. All she felt was irritation; she was irritated byhis clumsiness, irritated that he wasn't better at chatting her up. And thislack of jealousy frightened her. It made her think of her therapy sessions,what she had gone through with respect to her emotional life and the dangersignals. She speculated on how she should interpret this. In a way the factthat Ole only irritated her by showing interest in another woman made BjørnGerhardsen loom larger, seem more powerful and dangerous. It became harder toavoid his gaze. For this reason conversation around the table seemed to bedesperately sluggish. And, worst of all, she felt she was responsible for thissluggishness. Her irritability was putting a damper on others. The idea wassilly. She knew that, but was still unable to stop herself thinking it. She wassweating and wished she were anywhere but here. The hushed lethargy was brokenat various junctures by Annabeth standing up at the corner of the L-shapedtable and shouting 'Skеl'. They were doing a lot of toasting over wherethe table joined the second room. Katrine toasted with mineral water and heldher hand over her glass when Bjørn Gerhardsen tried to fill it with redwine.
Afterthe main course the long-legged woman took out a cigarette. Gerhardsen fumbledin his jacket pockets. Ole didn't notice anything. But the plump gay man wasfirst out of the blocks and lit her cigarette with a gallant bow.
'Iwon,' he grinned at Bjørn Gerhardsen.
Everyonelaughed. The childish outburst relaxed the atmosphere. Even Katrine laughed.The laughter was liberating.
Annabethsquealed from the corner with a raised glass. 'Skеl, Georg!'
'Goggen,'shouted the gay man. 'Everyone calls me Goggen…To the young woman with the longlegs he said: 'Did you see the new guy on TV on Saturday night? Do you rememberthe joke he told about the psychologist?'
Thelong-legged woman was already laughing. Cigarette smoke got caught in herthroat and she started coughing. Ole was staring down the gap between herpitching breasts.
Idon't belong here, thought Katrine.
'Sothe patient said: I'm not the one.…' Goggen sat up in his chair, puffedout his cheeks and put on a stupid face. Katrine realized this was meant to bean imitation. Goggen, in a lumberjack voice:'… he said to the psychologist.You're the one who's obsessed about sex. After all, you're the one doing theasking.'