‘No.’ He was doing his best not to check the time. To see how long was left of this damn Sunday. Monday was a drinking day. Only three units, but a drinking day, and there were no rules governing when on the Monday the permitted amount could be consumed, it could take place right after midnight, all in one go. He hadn’t bought the bottle of whiskey at Gardermoen, had plumped for the teddy bear instead, but he had checked the minibar in his room, and it contained what he needed.
‘What about you?’ Harry said, lifting his coffee cup. ‘Who have you got left?’
Katrine thought about it. ‘Well. I don’t have any family left on my side, so the closest are Gert’s grandmother and grandfather. They’re incredibly helpful. Toten is two hours away, but they still come here as often as they’re able. And sometimes — when I ask — when they aren’t really able, I think. They’re so attached to the boy, he’s all they have now as well. So...’
She paused. Stared over her teacup at the wall next to Harry. He could see it, how she was readying herself to take the plunge, as it were.
‘I don’t want them to know. And I don’t want Gert to know. Understand, Harry?’
So she knew. And had realised that he knew.
He nodded. It wasn’t hard to understand why she wouldn’t want her son growing up knowing he was the product of infidelity, of his mother’s one-night stand with an alcoholic. That she didn’t want to break the hearts of two loving grandparents. Or lose the sorely needed support they could offer a single mother and her child.
‘His father’s name is Bjørn,’ Katrine whispered, shifting her gaze so her eyes fixed on Harry’s. ‘End of story.’
‘I understand,’ Harry said in a low voice, his eyes not leaving hers. ‘I think what you’re doing is right. All I ask is that you come to me if you need help. Whatever it might be. I won’t be looking for anything in return.’
He could see Katrine’s eyes were moist. ‘Thanks, Harry. That’s generous.’
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘I’m poor as a church mouse.’
She laughed, sniffled and pulled a sheet of kitchen paper from the roll on the table. ‘You’re a good man,’ she said.
The grandmother came in to say that Mummy’s presence was required as a song had been requested, and while Katrine disappeared into the child’s room, Harry told Bjørn’s mother about how Bjørn had taken charge the time he, Harry and Øystein had compiled playlists for the theme nights at the Jealousy Bar. There had been Hank Williams Thursdays, an Elvis week and — perhaps most memorably — Songs-at-least-forty-years-old-by-artists-and-bands-from-American-states-starting-with-M night. Even though the names of Bjørn’s preferred choice of bands and artists didn’t appear to ring any bells with his mother, her tear-glazed eyes expressed gratitude to Harry for recounting something, probably anything at all, about her son.
Katrine returned to the kitchen, and her mother-in-law withdrew to the living room and switched on the TV.
‘The guy you’re seeing?’ Harry said.
Katrine waved the subject aside.
‘Come on,’ Harry said.
‘He’s younger than me. And no, I didn’t hook up with him on Tinder. I met him out in the real world. It was right after everything opened up again, so there was a bit of a euphoric atmosphere in town. So... yeah, he’s kept in touch.’
‘He has, not you?’
‘He’s probably a little more serious than me. It’s not that he isn’t a nice, solid guy. He has a steady job, his own apartment and seems to have his life in order.’
Harry smiled.
‘All right, all right!’ she said, making to give him a slap. ‘When you’re a single mum, you automatically start taking these things into account, OK? But there has to be some
‘And there isn’t?’
She paused. ‘He knows about the sort of stuff I don’t, and I really like that. He teaches me things, you know? He’s interested in music, like Bjørn. He’s no problem with me being a weirdo. And he—’ a broad smile spread across her face — ‘loves me. You know what? I’d nearly forgotten how good that feels. Being loved, like, to the core. Like Bjørn.’ She shook her head. ‘Maybe I’ve unconsciously been on the lookout for a new Bjørn. More than for
‘Mm. Does Bjørn’s mother know?’
‘No, no!’ She waved a dismissive hand. ‘No one knows. And I’m not planning on introducing him to anyone either.’
‘Not
She shook her head. ‘When you know it’s likely to end and you’re probably going to have to see the guy around afterwards, then you involve as few people as possible, right? You don’t want people looking at you and, like,
Harry smiled. ‘Some other time, maybe, when I’m not in such a hurry. I should probably tell you why I called you instead.’
‘Oh? I thought it was...’ She tilted her head in the direction of the child’s room.
‘No,’ Harry said. ‘It had been on my mind of course. But figured it was your choice if you wanted to let me know.’
