Shelooked up at him. 'I don't drink. I haven't touched a drop all evening.'
'Whywere you sick then?'
Shewas unable to answer before the cramps in her stomach started again. This timeit wasn't food; it felt like she was disgorging burning hot tea. She groped fortoilet paper. Her fingers grabbed some cloth. Ole had passed her a towel.
'Don'tknow,' she groaned. 'May have been the food.'
Heflushed the toilet. The noise drowned out the sounds of the party. She driedthe mucus, the snot and the tears from her face. 'Why are you still here?' sheasked. 'I want to be alone. I don't want you to see me like this.'
Hemumbled: 'Do you think I want to be on my own with that lot outside?'
Shenodded and had another violent retch. She brought nothing up. Yes, she did, adrop of caustic bile rolled off her tongue. She felt the draught of the door ashe opened and left. That was a relief. She felt better.
Olewas full of lies, too. This place suited him. He slotted in among these people.Ole could make conversation, he could drop small compliments to the ladies andengage in small talk with other men. Ole was at home. Only she was at sea. Shehad no business being here. And she wanted to go home. She should be withpeople who made her feel good. That was the solution. Go home. If home existed.
Sherecovered a little and dragged herself up by the toilet seat. She sat on thebowl staring at herself in a large mirror. In this house you could sit on thetoilet and admire yourself. Annabeth's husband, Bjørn Gerhardsen, too.Perhaps he stood here in front of the mirror, jacking himself off before hewent to bed. She shook her head to remove the sight from her consciousness. Herstomach was empty. She was not nauseous any longer. But her stomach musclesached after the attack. She sat like a teenage prostitute after her first OD,before the darkness came. Knees together, mucus running down her chin, wateryeyes, sickly pale skin and vomit-stained hair hanging down in two big tanglesover her forehead. The tears that had been forced out as she spewed had madeher mascara run. She thought about the insane sight of Annabeth spattered withwine. And instantly felt sick again. She swallowed. Sat there with closed eyes,swallowing until the nausea subsided. Now she knew what she should not thinkabout. Slowly she opened her eyes and regarded herself in the mirror. Thesounds of music, laughter and screaming carried through the door.
Ifshe had not been a conversation topic for that lot outside before, she was now.Have you ever heard anything like it? The poor welfare case feels unwell andthrows up at Annabeth's party – have you ever heard anything like it?
Therewas a knock at the door.
Shewanted to be alone, quite alone. There was another knock. Banging,social-worker-type- banging. I-will-never-give-up-banging. Shall-we-talk-about-it-banging. Old-woman-banging. 'Katrine?' It was Sigrid. 'Katrine? Areyou OK?'
Katrinewanted to be alone. No, she wanted to be with Henning, to sit and drink teawith Henning and not to feel the quiver of expectation in the air, or thelooks.
'Katrine!'Sigrid kept on banging.
Katrinestood up and opened the door a fraction.
'MyGod, what do you look like, my little girl!' Sigrid was caring, as always. Shepushed her way into the room and began to wash Katrine's face. 'There we are,yes, are you better now?'
'Ithink I'm going home,' Katrine said, pulling a face at herself in the mirror.'Could you ask Ole to ring for a taxi?'
'I'lldo it for you. Ole's gone into the garden.'
'Inthe garden?'
'Yes,Annabeth wanted people to swim in the pool. And she has a new fish pond shewants to show off. Just wait and I'll find you a car or see if anyone can takeyou.'
'Thereisn't a soul here left sober.'
Sigrid,her brow furrowed: 'It might seem like that, but there are quite a few peoplewho don't touch a drop.'
'Justforget it,' Katrine sighed.
Theyobserved each other in the mirror. Sigrid, middle-aged, slim and grey-haired,attractive and educated, with soft, caring hands. Katrine, young with asomewhat weary expression in her eyes. 'You should have been a nurse,' Katrinesaid and put Sigrid's arm around her shoulder. Portrait of girlfriends in thereflection. 'I can see it now as large as life.'
'What?'
'Youwalking round in a white uniform on the night shift with several male clientswaiting for you in the dark, waiting for a glimpse of their dream womantiptoeing through the door.'
Sigridsmiled at Katrine in the mirror, flattered but still with a caring, concernedfurrow on her forehead. 'I'm old,' she said.
'Mature,'corrected Katrine, freeing herself, 'but I'm young and don't have the energyfor any more tonight. I'll ring someone to pick me up. You go back to theparty.'
Katrinefelt a sudden desire to have Ole with her, to have him holding her. She wantedOle to say: Stay here, with me. She stood in the doorway looking. Firstof all for Sigrid, who had disappeared into the crowd. She stood and watchedOle come in from the terrace. Ole and the long-legged lady from the dinnertable. Their intimacy had become more open. Katrine closed her eyes and couldsee them before her, naked in bed. She could imagine it quite clearly, but feltno jealousy, just a leaden despondency.
Whatdid she want Ole to say? I'm sick of this place. He could say that. Hecould come here, hold her and say he would take her home and stay with her. Shecould feel herself becoming angry. Why didn't he do that? Why wasn't he theperson she wanted him to be?
Atthat moment her eyes met his. He was walking towards her. She closed her eyes.She saw it vividly. The row that was coming. All the nasty things she wouldsay; all the nasty things he would say. She opened her eyes again. For everystep that Ole took, she wished it were Henning. Henning and no one else.
'How'sit going?' he asked.
'Better,'she mumbled. 'You're enjoying yourself too, I can see.'
Hefollowed her gaze, to the woman with the legs watching them. As soon as Oleturned, the long- legged woman left and was lost from view.
'Somepeople are going to hit town,' Ole said after a pause. 'Smuget. The queer and afew others. Do you feel like joining them?'
'No,'she said. 'Do you?'
'Notsure. Maybe.'
'I'mgoing home,' she said.
'Home?'
Shegave a tired smile. 'You don't need to join me. Relax, stay here. Or go withthe others to town.'
Hebrightened up. 'Quite sure?'
Shenodded.
Acrowd of noisy guests forced their way between them. Goggen patted Ole on thebottom. 'You going to join us, sweetie?'
Olegrinned.
Goggengrabbed his waist and swung him round in a slow waltz. Katrine retreated to thetoilet, locked the door and waited until she was sure the hall was empty.Voices and strident yells penetrated the walls. Someone was mistreating the piano.When she was sure that all those in the corridor had gone, she crept out,lifted the receiver of the telephone hanging on the wall and called Henning'snumber. She checked her watch. It was not midnight yet. At last she heard asleepy hello at the other end. 'Katrine here,' she said quickly. 'Are you inbed?' She couldn't restrain herself from asking, and then grimaced, as thoughfrightened he would say yes and be grumpy.
'Me?No.' Henning yawned aloud. So he had been asleep.
'Haveyou got a car?' she asked.
'Mybrother's, the big old crate.'
'Canyou pick me up? I'm at Annabeth's. Now?'
ThankGod for Henning, who never asked any questions. 'Start walking now,' he said.'And I'll meet you.'
Chapter Four
Twentyminutes later the house was a hundred metres away and she was alone in thedarkness. She strolled down the quiet road. It was grey rather than darkoutside, the murky gloom of a summer night. She felt a lot better, but herstomach and diaphragm were still taut. The fresh air caressed her face. Shepassed under a lamp post. The electric lamp buzzed and projected a pallidgleam, unable to illuminate better than the night itself. She continued on downthe road. Her heels echoed on the tarmac. The electric buzz was gone, soon tobe replaced by a mosquito next to her ear. Shortly afterwards she heard thedrone of a car. Next she saw the beam of headlamps behind the massive treesalongside the road. Oslo opened up far beneath her. The whole town smoulderedwith lights, like the embers of an enormous dying bonfire. The black sea of theinner Oslo fjord reflected and amplified the glow. The drone of the engineincreased in volume and soon she saw the reflection of car headlamps on thetrees and a line of cars rounded the bend. The first car was low with an opentop. Henning's long hair blew in the gusting side wind, and he had to brush itaway from his face. He pulled up and she jumped in.