Gunnarstrandanodded slowly.
Themeasured gaze the pensioner returned was microscopic. The retired departmenthead twisted gently and hobbled off into the room, away from them.
'Ihope I haven't taken his seat?' Tove whispered, in a conspiratorial voice.
'ForGod's sake, stay where you are,' Gunnarstranda whispered back in the samehushed tones. And for the third time in an unusually short time she gave hisarm a light squeeze.
Sincethen neither of them had been to any meetings at the local garden association.However, they had been to the restaurant three times.
AsGunnarstranda sat down and met her smile, he was looking forward to theconversation as much as the meal.
Chapter 24
Companyhalt, Frølich thought, remembering forced marches in full army kit many yearsbefore. The rain falling down from the sky, uniform soaked, stiff, cold, hisreluctance to move a single muscle. The only way out had been to wait, standstill and wait until the sky or an officer announced a change in theirsituation. Now: Eva- Britt and he were at the restaurant. Even though they hadfinished eating some time ago, even though he had a hundred things to do, itbehoved him to wait calmly. It was a ritual the two of them had lapsed intobecause Eva-Britt had always hated hurrying. But it was also a ritual he wasbeginning to loathe from the bottom of his heart. There were two similarfeelings competing for the upper hand behind his calm exterior: the feeling ofstress imposed by inactivity and the feeling of annoyance because he allowedhimself to be cowed by her need for contentment. He stretched his legs, rippedthe foil off the third or fourth toothpick and looked around. At the adjacenttable sat a young chrome-dome listening to a woman of the same age whogesticulated with both hands when she talked. Frølich had picked up that shewas a waitress. She was telling stories about insufferable customers tochrome-dome, who was stifling a yawn and fiddling with a toothpick, too.
Frølich'seyes searched the room and at length they settled on Eva-Britt's face. She hadbeen talking without stop for quite some time. Frank had no idea what she wastalking about.
'Howdid I end up here?' he thought and drained his glass with enforced patiencewhile watching the talking face; the lower lip he had once longed to nibble topieces, the eyes he had compared with a dash of the Mediterranean, enclosedbehind the lowered eyelids. He asked himself the question: 'How did weend up here?'
A fewyears ago it would have been both natural and feasible to stop this babblingwith a kiss. Today she would be angry, offended and ashamed on his behalf. Andhe may well have knocked the glasses over in the attempt.
Hethought of her navel, the hollow in her stomach, the rounding of her stomachwhen she stretched in the morning. They were images that had to be sought out,which no longer fell into place of their own accord.
'Where'sthe spark gone?' he thought, looking at one long leg under the table.Knee-length boots, Eva-Britt's trademark, the plinth to carry her body.Footwear emphasizing the erotic mystery that women's legs point towards andmen's eyes seek out.
Now heno longer felt any spark. And he imagined she would also have the same feelingof emptiness. 'Why do we pretend?' he wondered.
Theyhad eaten a fillet of lumpsucker fish. The waiter took their plates. And atlong last she was quiet as the man cleared the table. For that fragment of asecond he detected panic in Eva-Britt's eyes. As soon as the waiter had gone,she started up again. Now she was having a go at TV hosts and the banalityflourishing in new TV series.
'Isn'tthat right?' she asked, and for one split second he caught a hint of aggressionin her eyes. She may have thought she had caught him letting his mind wander.
'Wehad all this in the discussion on TV last night, didn't we?' he answeredslowly. 'The topic was done to death.'
Shewas hurt. Because the answer was too brutal, he thought. In other words, beinguninterested, or not feigning interest, is too brutal. However, he could feelhis irritation growing and hardening because she was hurt by his sense that hewas wasting his time. Eva-Britt was hurt, never angry, but she would not allowherself to reveal too much of the hurt. Instead she fled into a self-constructed state of mind, a sort of wasteland where she did not perceive theessence of a change in mood and the substance of an atmosphere – Eva-Britt'sdemilitarized zone. Here the important thing was to be disarming, to findneutral ground as soon as possible. As usual she blew out her cheeks. 'I amjust so full,' she said, imitating a beach ball. 'All blob!' This wordwas supposed to represent the inflated cheeks. 'All blob!'
FrankFrølich gave a leaden nod.
'Thatfish almost exploded my taste buds!'
Frølichnodded again as the waiter came with coffee and liqueurs. As she sipped hercognac, she rolled her tongue around her mouth. 'Mm,' she said, smacking herlips. 'Mm, mm, now I think my taste buds are going berserk.'
Frølichnodded.
'Thelast time we were here, we had snails for starters. Do you remember? And ravioliwith sage and pure butter, un-ex-pur-gat-ed fat, and afterwards filet mignon!'
Frølichnodded.
'Iwas so full. I just sat like this…'
Hercheeks bulged.
Frølichsub-vocalized the words.
'Allblob!'
Henodded again. Afterwards he looked out of the window because he knew she wouldbe extra hurt if he checked the time too obviously. The jeweller's clock glowedon the other side of the street. It said ten minutes past ten.
Hemanaged to negotiate himself an hour at work, but on condition that he wentback to hers afterwards. At midnight he was back. Eva-Britt had just finishedin the bathroom. Since she was wearing a nightdress, Julie must have gone tobed. He was tired and took a hot shower. When he had finished she was alreadyin bed. She was lying under the duvet, naked and warm. As soon as he joinedher, she grabbed his sex with both hands. They made love in a variety ofpositions for a long time, but he was fantasizing about Anna. Afterwards heslept like a log, still dreaming about Anna. He dreamt she was lying on top ofhim, like in the early hours almost a month ago. In the dream she sat up, butwhen he met her gaze, she had Ingrid Jespersen's face. He shuddered and wokeup. It was the middle of the night. He had an erection. For some minutes he laystaring into the darkened bedroom before rolling on top of Eva-Britt again andfondling her into consciousness. That morning he had breakfast in bed.Eva-Britt gave him a warm, gentle smile and said it was fine if they livedapart so long as they were able to work positively at the relationship.
Hedrove Julie to school before heading for the Swedish border. A new, harshwinter day was dawning. The flawless snow-covered fields of 0stfold reposedbetween swathes of forest and road. The sky was a blue parchment. The treesextended their thick branches into the air and might have looked like Chinesescript had it not been for the frost; statues dressed in white armour of rimeand ice crystals.
Aftertaking the wrong road several times, he eventually found the ice-covered lake.Occasional tips of yellow stubble protruded through the snow in a field where aflock of crows was holding court. Judging from the activity, it seemed to be arather tedious affair they were discussing. The snow glittered and reflectedthe dazzling light; wonderful weather for skiing if it hadn't been so cold.Smoke was coming from the chimney in what had to be Jonny Stokmo's farm.Frølich turned off, up the little incline towards the white house and passed alow barn before swinging into the yard. Beneath the bridge leading to the barnstood a Belarus tractor fitted with a snowplough. Obviously a gasket wasleaking somewhere because the snow under the engine was black with oil. Abarrel of diesel stood on its end beside a Mazda pick-up truck with rustingjoints. Frølich turned to the farmhouse and caught a movement behind thewindow. At once the front door opened. A man with a checked shirt and two endsof a moustache extending down to his chin appeared on the step.