Because of course he approached her. All men did sooner or later if Helene wanted them to. But as he drew closer, she felt that she didn’t want this, not yet. She had never been unfaithful to Markus, hadn’t even flirted with other men, and neither would she, not before everything was settled, finalised. She was upfront like that, a one-man woman, and always had been. Even if Markus was far from being a one-woman man. Because it wasn’t about what he thought of her, but about what she thought of herself.
The man stopped at her table, began to pull out the other chair.
‘Please don’t sit down.’ Helene looked up at him with a wide smile. ‘I just wanted to thank you for the drink.’
‘The drink?’ He smiled back, but looked confused.
‘This. Which you sent over. Yes?’
He shook his head with a laugh. ‘But shall we pretend as if I did? My name’s Filip.’
She laughed in return, and shook her head as well. He already looked a tiny bit smitten, poor guy. ‘Have a nice day, Filip.’
He gave a gentlemanly bow and left her. He would still be there the day it ended with Markus too. And hopefully without that wedding ring he had tried to conceal. Helene gestured to the waiter. He stood beside the table with his head bowed and a guilty smile.
‘You tricked me. Who really sent the drink over?’
‘Sorry, fru Røed. I thought it was a joke being played on you by someone you knew.’ He pointed to an empty table by the wall a little behind her. ‘He just left. I served him two martinis, but then he waved me over and asked me to give one to you and pointed out who I was to say it came from. The good-looking gentlemen at the bar, that is. I hope I didn’t go too far?’
‘It’s fine,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I hope he tipped you well.’
‘Of course, fru Røed. Of course.’ The waiter grinned, black snus showing between his teeth.
Helene picked out the olives before drinking the last of the martini, but the taste lingered.
It was on the way down towards Gyldenløves gate that the anger descended, and it struck her. That it was madness, utter insanity that she, an intelligent, grown woman, should accept that her existence was controlled by men, men she neither liked nor respected. What was it she was actually afraid of? Being alone? She was alone, for fuck’s sake, every one of us was alone! And it was Markus who had most reason to be afraid. If she told the truth, told what she knew... she shuddered at the thought, the same way presidents hopefully shuddered at the thought of pushing the button. While naturally at the same time the thought they
Helene Røed decided there and then that from now on she would be in control of her own life, and that in that life there would be very little space for men. And because Helene Røed was well aware that when she set her mind to something, then she saw it through, she knew that was how it was going to be. Now it was just a matter of drawing up a plan. Then, when this was all behind her, she would send a drink over to a man she liked the look of.
Naked
As Harry entered the square in front of Oslo Central Station, he caught sight of Øystein Eikeland standing by the tiger statue, stamping his feet on the flagstones. Øystein was wearing a Vålerenga top, but the rest was pure Keith Richards. The hair, the wrinkles, scarf, eyeliner, cigarette, the emaciated frame.
As with Aune, Harry didn’t hug his childhood friend too hard, as though afraid even more of the people in his life would go to pieces.
‘Wow,’ Øystein said. ‘Nice suit. What were you doing over there? Running prostitutes? Selling coke?’
‘No, but I can see you are,’ Harry said, looking around. The people on the square were mostly commuters, tourists and office workers, but there were few places in Oslo where the sale of drugs took place as openly as here. ‘I have to admit I didn’t see that coming.’
‘No?’ Øystein said, adjusting his sunglasses, the hug having knocked them out of position. ‘I did. Should have started years ago. Not only does it pay better than driving a cab, it’s healthier too.’
‘Healthier?’
‘Gets me closer to the source. Everything going into this body now is high-quality stuff.’ He ran his hands down his sides.
‘Mm. And in moderate doses too?’
‘Course. How ’bout you?’
Harry shrugged. ‘At the moment, I’m trying out your Moderation Management programme. Not sure it’ll work out in the long run, but we’ll see.’
Øystein tapped a finger to his temple.
