Minus Me (21 page)

Linda wakes up sobbing. Zak is sitting there watching her.

‘Good morning,’ he says.

‘I had such a sad dream,’ says Linda, wiping her face.

‘About what?’

‘About Mum and Dad. We were on our way home from holiday. They thought I was in the back of the car. But I wasn’t. Mum just screamed and screamed, and then she started bleeding. It’s the second time I’ve dreamed of her losing the baby. Do you think it means something? Will it be my fault if they lose this baby?’

‘Perhaps your dream just means you miss them?’ Zak suggests.

‘I think perhaps I was wrong to go. They’ve reported me missing, and all I’ve done is switch off my phone. They must be scared. Perhaps the dream is telling me that I’m making Mum so scared that she’ll lose the baby.’

‘She’s not going to lose the baby. You’re going to get your little brother this time, I promise.’

‘How can you possibly promise that? You’re not an angel, after all, are you?’ Linda protests.

‘Do you think it’s up to angels to fix the world?’

Linda doesn’t answer. She just shakes her head, even though she’d love to think angels existed, and that they could fix everything, and that Zak was one of them.

‘Do you want to turn back?’

‘No. No. The strange thing is that I feel so much stronger. My heart hasn’t acted weird since we left Trondheim.’

‘I’m glad you feel better. You look better too. But perhaps you should ring your parents, so your conscience feels a little lighter too?’

‘Okay. Will you wait for me outside while I talk to them?’

‘Of course.’

He strokes her cheek with the back of his hand, almost as though she was just a little child and he was very, very old. Linda waits until Zak has left before taking out her phone. She turns it on and keys in the pin code. A flood of texts appears. Linda can’t be bothered to start reading them all. Instead she just dials her home number. Her parents must be sitting right by the phone, because they answer straight away.

‘Hi, it’s me,’ she says.

‘Linda, what are you doing? Where are you?’ her mother yells down the line.

There’s no way she can hide the fact she’s hysterical. Not that Linda thinks she’s exactly trying.

‘I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry, Mum. There’s just something I have to do,’ says Linda.

‘There’s only one thing you have to do now, and that’s get yourself back home!’ bellows her father, who has taken the receiver.

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t.’

‘Can’t or won’t?’ he yells.

‘Both,’ she says.

She can hear that her mum has taken the receiver again. She can hear her sobbing and gearing up to say something else. Linda can’t bare to listen to any more. They don’t understand. They don’t understand and she can’t cope with it. She ends the call, and then switches off the telephone completely. Then she gets up. She brushes away a few strands of hay and weighs the mobile in her hand, before letting it drop to the ground. Then she kicks it into the darkest corner of the barn and leaves. Zak is sitting outside, leaning against a sunny wall with his eyes closed. She goes over to him and stands in front of him, casting a shadow over him. He opens his eyes.

‘Did it go alright?’

‘Yes. No problem. They just wished us a good trip,’ says Linda.

Chapter 44

‘You’ll never guess what I’ve found,’ says Zak, laughing.

‘What?’

‘Come with me and I’ll show you,’ he says.

He stretches out a hand. Linda takes it and pulls him up to his feet.

‘I investigated the rest of the farm while you were asleep.’

Zak leads Linda to an old stable. He lifts the latch and pushes the door open. Linda can see something pretty big under tarpaulin. A tractor perhaps?

‘This,’ says Zak, ‘is precisely what we need.’

He lifts a corner of the tarpaulin, so Linda can see a car. A rather clapped-out old banger, but a car nevertheless. Zak pulls back the cover, releasing a shower of dust and dirt, and throws it into a corner.

‘It may not look smart, but I’ve already tried to start it and it goes like clockwork,’ he boasts, getting in. ‘Come on, jump in!’

Linda gets in. She notices that Zak isn’t using an ignition key like any normal person. Instead he’s fiddling with some wires. It all looks far from legal.

‘Are we stealing this car?’

‘Hmm. It’s a kind of loan,’ says Zak, his face lighting up as the motor starts up. ‘What did I say? Works like a dream!’

‘Have you asked if you can borrow it? And if so, where’s the ignition key?’

‘Well, I haven’t exactly asked, but the owner doesn’t use it any more. Look, it’s covered with dust,’ he says, blowing the dashboard so that a cloud of dust fills the air.

‘Zak, when we were in the cathedral, you said we should be aware of our inner compass, and of the things we do wrong . . .’

‘Well, yes. Because then we can ask for forgiveness afterwards,’ says Zak, with a grin.

‘Isn’t it best to avoid doing things we have to ask forgiveness for afterwards? We can’t just take this car.’

‘Do you want to go and see Axel or not?’ he asks.

Zak stalls the car and it lurches forward.

‘Do you even know how to drive?’

‘La-di-da, la-di-da,’ says Zak, getting out of the car and slamming the door after him. ‘As you want. We’ll go and ask if we can borrow it.’

‘Or we could take the bus,’ says Linda, slinking out of the car too.

‘The owner probably lives up there in that house,’ says Zak, pointing up the hill, and stomping towards it. Linda hangs back. They might just as well take the bus from here. It’s unlikely anyone will recognize her with her new blue hair. And they’re very close now anyway. She thinks about her parents and how frantic they were. They hadn’t listened to her at all. She just hopes they don’t discover where she’s going and try to stop her. It’s a good job she got rid of her phone. Linda kicks a stone. She follows it with her gaze. It lands in the middle of something green and white that’s peeping through last year’s yellow grass.

‘Snowdrops. There are snowdrops over here,’ she shouts.

Zak turns and puts his hands on his hips. But Linda pretends not to see how exasperated he is and walks over to the flowers and starts picking them. ‘It’s good to bring a gift when you’re going to ask to borrow a car.’

‘Yeah, sure. And it’s even better when it’s a bunch of flowers you found in the owner’s garden! You’re the one who was talking so piously about right and wrong a minute ago!’

Linda doesn’t answer. She carries on until she’s got a bunch, and then goes over to Zak who’s standing there waiting. He rolls his eyes and then strides off again. Linda looks up at the house. A head pokes round the kitchen curtains. They are being observed. What’s the worst that can happen? Linda thinks to herself.

‘That she tells you off for picking her snowdrops,’ says Zak, answering her thoughts.

‘How did you know . . . ?’

‘Well, she’s standing up there, glaring out of her window. Come on,’ he says, laughing.

When they get to the house, he leaps up the front steps and rings the bell. Then he runs back and pushes Linda forward, before withdrawing into the background.

‘Hey, that’s not fair—’ says Linda.

She is interrupted by the door opening.

‘I’m not interested in buying lottery tickets,’ says an elderly lady at the door.

‘That’s lucky. We’re not selling any,’ answers Linda.

‘So what are you after then?’

‘Er, we’re doing a school project about the old days, and we wondered if we could interview you?’

‘I don’t remember a single thing,’ says the woman.

Linda pretends not to have heard this last comment. She just walks up the front steps, holding out the flowers.

‘Are those for me?’

‘Yes.’

The woman hesitates then takes the little bouquet. She sniffs it before fixing Linda with her gaze.

‘Hmm. I saw you picking them down there in my garden.’

‘I’m sorry,’ says Linda.

A smile spreads over the old lady’s face as she lets the door swing open and disappears into a dark hallway.

‘Well, you’d better come in. Don’t bother to take your shoes off. The home help’s coming today and she needs something to do, the lazy creature.’

Chapter 45

Zak and Linda are now safely planted on Olga’s sofa. It’s hard to decide whether Olga is a cantankerous old biddy, or just has a unique sense of humour. The living room smells of stewed prunes and biscuits, and the clock ticks loudly.

‘Just tuck in,’ she says, shoving a cake towards them. It’s of the shop-bought-with-a-scarily-long-sell-by-date variety.

Linda shakes her head. She’s already had two whole sandwiches and a big glass of milk. Zak gets up and paces around the room. Linda knows why; the radio is on and the news is blaring out. Then it comes: a thirteen year old girl from Trondheim has been reported missing. Police do not believe there to be any criminal involvement, but people are asked to . . .’ Zak turns off the radio.

‘Excuse me! Why did you do that? The weather forecast will be on soon,’ Olga protests.

‘Overcast with the possibility of a little rain later this evening. But I can’t see it’ll make any difference. You surely weren’t thinking of going out?’ says Zak.

‘No, but it’s good to follow things,’ says Olga, clearly offended, and taking a piece of cake herself.

‘I like your house,’ says Linda, trying to avoid any argument. What’s going on with Zak? He seems to be getting increasingly rude and childish. And right now, when they want to borrow the car and everything!

‘So, you’re here to interview elderly folk. A kind of school project, you said? The old days, indeed! You youngsters should be more concerned with the future!’ says Olga, taking a bite of her cake.

‘Well yes, but . . .’

Linda starts to clear the plates and glasses; hers dirty, Zak’s unused. She gets up to put them in the kitchen.

‘You don’t need to tidy up. The home help is coming today.’

‘But it won’t take a minute.’

Linda signals to Zak that he should follow her out. In the kitchen she grabs his arm.

‘What are we going to do now?’ she asks.

‘I don’t know. This was your idea!’

‘My idea? Hardly! I wanted to take the bus.’

‘There are radios on buses, and on the radio there’s news, and today you’re news, or have you forgotten that?’

‘Thanks for nothing,’ Linda says, turning on her heel.

What is it with Zak right now? He’s suddenly so childish. It’s as though he can’t be bothered to help her. She pauses at the doorway to the living room, waiting for Zak to say something. Anything. But he is silent. She turns to him, and he’s just standing there gawping. Okay, she’ll have to deal with this herself somehow. She takes a deep breath and goes into the living room. Olga looks up, before continuing to scrape her plate with her fork. Linda smiles mechanically and crosses the room, past the noisy clock, over to the old piano, on which some photographs are displayed. She leans forward and peers at a picture of a younger Olga standing next to a man in front of a car. It’s the car that Zak found in the barn.

‘Can I take this picture down to look at it more closely?’ asks Linda.

‘With pleasure,’ says Olga, putting down her plate.

Linda takes the picture over to the sofa and passes it to Olga, who takes it in both hands. She looks at it and smiles, before wiping some dust off the frame with her sleeve.

‘That’s Karl and me on a car trip. Karl loved that car. He spent more time tinkering with that car than he spent with me!’ says Olga, laughing.

‘Were you jealous of the car?’ asks Linda.

‘Oh no! That was just something we joked about. We had so many lovely trips together. We’re in Balestrand in this picture. We stayed in a lovely hotel, overlooking the fjord. We had plenty of time on our hands, you see, when the children had flown the nest.’

Olga pauses and gazes at the picture. Then she rubs it again with her sleeve, to remove some invisible dust from the man’s face. Then she traces her fingers over the car.

‘I didn’t have the heart to get rid of the car after he died. My kids say I’m a sentimental old fool,’ says Olga, with a little laugh.

‘Is that because you loved Karl so much?’ asks Linda, hesitantly.

‘Mmm,’ says Olga, pausing. Linda can see Olga’s eyes are moist. ‘I still love him. Love is stronger than death, you know. Karl lives as strongly in my heart as he ever did. We were meant to be, right from the start. Karl said he fell in love with me when he was just a lad. His father was doing a carpentry job at the farm where I lived, and Karl came along too. Our cat had just had kittens, and my mother told me to show them to the little boy who was visiting. Karl told me later that he’d decided there and then that he would marry the little girl with the long red plaits. We both grew up, and as youngsters we’d go to dances. I liked to dance and flirt with the other boys, but Karl was always the one who walked me home. And, just as he decided as a little boy, I became his wife, and we got our lovely bunch of children too.’