The Dinosaur Feather (22 page)

It was almost one o’clock in the morning when Anna went to bed. For the first time in days, she slept a sound, untroubled sleep.

When she woke up Thursday morning, she was cold. She lit a fire, turned up the radiators, made oatmeal, and put far too much sugar on it.

“Yummy,” Lily said, skillfully scalping the oatmeal with her spoon. “More sugar, please.”

Anna sprinkled a little more into her bowl and rubbed her nose against the back of Lily’s neck.

“I’ll pick you up early today,” she whispered.

“I want to go to Granny’s,” Lily declared. Anna sat down at the table and looked into Lily’s eyes.

“No, Lily, you’re not going to Granny’s today.”

“Granny makes pancakes,” Lily argued.

“You can have pancakes here,” Anna said. “With ice cream.”

“Ice cream,” Lily exclaimed, overjoyed, and looked in the direction of the freezer.

“Not now, Lily. This afternoon,” Anna replied.

“No, ice cream now.”

Anna sighed, found another bowl and scooped two hard balls out of a tub. Lily hoovered the contents of the bowl and wanted more. In the end, Anna had to carry her howling daughter into the hall and put her into her snowsuit. But suddenly, Lily threw her arms around Anna.

“You’re my mom,” she said.

Anna was touched. “And you’re my cuddle bunny,” she replied, softly.

“Bloppen is coming with me to school,” Lily declared.

“Then go find him.”

While Lily rummaged around her bedroom, Anna zipped up her jacket and thought about Johannes, who had still not called, and then about the man who had come to see her last night. It had to be Johannes, who else could it have been? The World’s Most Irritating Detective would surely have shown his ID. Anna sent Johannes another text.

Johannes darling. Please call me. I’m really sorry about yesterday. I’m sorry that I shouted at you. By the way, did you stop by last night? Please call!

Anna remembered the note with the telephone numbers for the health visitor. It was still lying next to the computer and she stuffed it in her pocket.

“Come on, Lily.” She called down the hallway to Lily’s room.

Lily was dawdling. Anna waited on the landing and called out again.

“Lily, come on.”

At that moment she heard a security chain rattle and a dark gap appeared behind her neighbor Maggie’s door. Maggie peered out, and when Anna said “hi,” her face lit up, she closed the door, removed the chain, and joined Anna on the landing.

“Look at the state of you,” she exclaimed. “You have Olympic-size bags under your eyes. Have you had gentlemen callers?” Maggie wore a floor-length dressing gown and her hair stood out on all sides.

“Not exactly,” Anna said, but couldn’t help smiling.

Maggie pulled the dressing gown tighter and suddenly glanced anxiously down the stairwell.

“So who is he then? It did seem a little odd.”

Anna froze.

“What do you mean?”

The old lady scrutinized Anna.

“The man who came back last night. It all seemed very strange to me. The other day I asked him if he wanted a drink. I didn’t want him sitting out here getting cold, did I? But he declined and, after last night, I’m very glad that he did.”

“What do you mean, the other day?” Anna asked, massaging a spot on her upper chest through her jacket.

“The other day. Yesterday? Or was it two days ago? What are you doing?” Maggie asked, indicating Anna’s hand. Anna sighed.

“It’s nothing. It’s my heart. It’s racing. What did he look like?”

“He had lovely eyes . . . and he was tall. He looked nice. Nice and a tad nervous. He wore a hat and a long black coat. His hair was auburn.” Maggie touched her ear to show where his hair had stuck out.

“It must have been Johannes. What did he say?”

“I was coming back with my groceries, and you know how I leave the bags on the landing and carry them upstairs, one at a time. When I came up with the first bag, there he was. Very polite, asked if he could help me, and then he carried my groceries upstairs. He said he was one of your friends, so I invited him in, but as I said, he declined. He glanced at his watch as though he was in a hurry,” Maggie explained. “And yesterday, when I saw him sitting there again, I thought it odd and I nearly called the police. And then, suddenly, he was gone. Like the last time. As though he had changed his mind. Strange, don’t you think? Either you need to see someone or you don’t. I rushed to my balcony to check if the light was on in your apartment, but it was dark as the grave,” she said dramatically and narrowed her eyes.

“It must have been Johannes,” Anna repeated, to herself mainly. “Think back. When was the first time he came here?”

“Three days ago,” Maggie declared.

Lily came outside with Bloppen tucked under her arm.

“Can I have a Gummi Bear, please?” she asked. Maggie shuffled back inside her apartment, closely followed by Lily. Anna remained outside. It was going to be a long day.

Anna received a text just as they entered the nursery school. She reached into her pocket for her mobile, but the mayhem of children and parents in the coat room distracted her. Lily ran ahead into the classroom and tugged the skirt of one of her teachers.

“Look!” she called out. “Look! It’s my mom. Look, she’s right there!” Lily pointed and a teacher came out to share Lily’s excitement.

“Look, my one is the lion,” Lily said, sticking out her lower lip. Since when had her speech developed so quickly? Anna thought. “I’ve got the lion, Anton has the rhinoceros, and Fatima has a fried egg,” Lily explained and pointed to some small wooden shapes stuck to the wall above the peg rail.

“Do you have long to go before you finish your dissertation?” the teacher asked.

“No,” Anna said, looking up in surprise.

“She misses you,” the teacher said softly.

“She has her granny,” Anna defended herself.

“Sure,” the teacher said. “But you’re her mother, and she talks about you all the time.” Then she turned on her heel and left.

“I’m four years old,” Lily said.

“No, darling. In five weeks you’ll be three years old.” Anna held up five fingers. “And I’ll pick you up at four o’clock,” she went on and removed one finger.

Outside the school she fished out her cell and smiled when she saw the text from Johannes.

Apology accepted
.
We’re still friends. I just need to be alone for a while. Hugs. P.S. I was at home all of last night and didn’t visit you. Must have been one of your other admirersJ

Anna breathed a sigh of relief. Johannes wasn’t upset. But then, who could the visitor have been?

She was on her way into Building 12 when her cell rang. It was Cecilie.

“No, you don’t need to pick her up,” Anna said, before Cecilie had time to say anything.

“Ah, right, well, okay. Bye then, Anna,” she said, sounding hurt. Then she continued, “But it wouldn’t be a problem today. My meeting has been canceled, and I could pick her up as early as two o’clock. Saves her wasting her afternoon at the school.”

Anna lost her temper and screamed. “You’re not picking her up, do you hear me?! Christ Almighty, why can’t you leave us alone? I’ll call you tonight.” She ended the call and stuffed her phone into her pocket.

The seal on Helland’s door had been broken, and as Anna walked past she could see crime scene investigators inside the office. She slowed down. They were wearing thin white boiler suits and spoke quietly to each other. The floor in the corridor was covered with dirty footprints, and Anna had an irrepressible urge to eavesdrop. Why had the police come back? When she entered her study, she saw that Johannes’s computer was gone. An official-looking form had been left on top of one of his piles of paper, briefly stating it had been confiscated by the police. Anna took out her mobile.

The police have walked off with your computer
, she texted.

No reply.

Cecilie, too, stayed silent.

At noon Anna went to the cafeteria and bought two sandwiches and two cartons of juice before she made her way to the museum. She let herself into the Vertebrate Collection with her master key. The ceiling light was on and she found Dr. Tybjerg at a desk, writing on a lined pad. Several reference books and boxes of bones were beside him. Tybjerg looked up, startled.

“Oh, it’s you.” He sounded relieved.

“You slept here last night, Dr. Tybjerg, I know you did,” she said.

Tybjerg studied his hands and Anna noticed how his nostril had started to twitch. She placed a sandwich in front of him.

“Why don’t you sleep at home?” she demanded, losing patience with his paranoia. Dr. Tybjerg looked worried.

“Anna,” he begged. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone. Please!”

“Tell anyone what?”

“For the past eight months I’ve been living in my office,” he confessed. “To save money. Traveling to excavations . . . it all adds up. I lost my apartment. No one knows yet. The last few nights I’ve been sleeping in here. Is that for me?” He touched the sandwich hopefully.

“Yes,” Anna replied, and handed him a carton of juice. She was shocked to see Dr. Tybjerg rip off the wrapping and wolf down the food.

“You’re also hiding from Freeman, aren’t you?” she said.

Tybjerg was eating and didn’t reply. Anna snapped. She removed the lid from one of the boxes, took out a bone, and slammed it down in front of her supervisor.

“This,” she hissed, “is the hand of a bird. It has a half-moon-shaped carpus, which overlaps the basis of the two first metacarpal bones in the wrist common to all maniraptora, that is all birds, both ancient and modern. It’s a homologue feature, which underlines the close kinship of prehistoric birds to modern ones. Freeman disagrees. He thinks the dinosaur’s carpus may have had a feature that, at first glance, could be mistaken for a semilunar, but that the two bones only bear a superficial likeness, and this apparent similarity has no impact on their relationship.” Anna sent the bone skidding across the desk and stuck her hand into the box a second time.

“And this one—” she started.

“Stop,” Dr. Tybjerg implored her.

“—is the pubic bone.” Anna ignored him. “Those of us who know better, know that both theropods and
Archaeopteryx
and a couple of enantiornithine birds from the early Cretaceous had an enlarged distal on the pubic bone, i.e., another homologue feature. Of course, Freeman denies this. Further, there is the dispute about the position of the pubic bone. And the dispute about feathers, about phylogenetic methods, about the stratigraphic junction, about the ascending process of the talus bone, about everything.” Anna looked at Dr. Tybjerg.

“That’s why he’s come to Denmark, Dr. Tybjerg. To win an argument he has no chance of ever winning; not to kill Helland, or you, or me, or my daughter.”

“Stop it,” Tybjerg howled. His knuckles were white. He rose. “It’s pointless,” he said, taking the rest of his sandwich and disappearing down the dark aisles. She could hear him shuffle around and didn’t know what to do. She slapped her head with the palm of her hand.

Her cell rang on her way back to the department. It was Jens.

“Hi, Dad,” she said.

“Anna, hi.” He sounded breathless. “I’m on a job. In Odense, as it happens.”

“Right,” Anna said. She was walking down the glass corridor that connected the museum and the Institute of Biology.

“Listen, Anna,” he said. “Your mom just called me. She sounded quite upset.”

“Right,” Anna said again.

“What’s going on?” Jens asked. “I understand that you’re under a lot of pressure, but be nice to your mom, please? She does so much for you, Anna sweetheart.”

Anna glowed red-hot with rage. She was speechless.

“She says you screamed at her and hung up. What’s that all about?”

Anna finally got her voice under control.

“Please can you explain to me when my mother became so fragile?” Anna sneered. “Since when is she made of glass? Can you tell me that? She’s had special treatment all my life. My whole freaking life.”

“Anna,” Jens said after a pause. “Calm down.”

“No, I won’t!”

“You calm down right now!” Jens shouted.

“Do you know what you can do? You can call my mother and remind her that Lily is my child. And when she accepts that, then she can call me. For God’s sake, Dad, Cecilie cut Lily’s hair and had her ears pierced without asking me first!”

Jens was silent.

Then he said, “She’s only trying to help.”

“I don’t need any help,” she said. “From you or her.”

At four o’clock that afternoon, she picked Lily up from nursery school.

Chapter 8

Clive woke up in his house on Vancouver Island, wondering why he had slept on the sofa. Then he remembered hitting Kay. He showered and shaved in the guest bedroom. He put eggs on to boil, fried bacon, and made toast and tea. He put plates and utensils on a tray and carried it out to the garden, and then he set the table. The sun was shining, the air was mild and hazy. Kay always put a tablecloth on first, but Clive couldn’t find one. He found some napkins instead and put the plates on top of them. Then he went upstairs to get Kay.

The door to the master bedroom was open and Clive could hear the water running in the master bathroom. He looked into the bedroom and saw Kay’s suitcase on the bed. At that moment, she appeared from the bathroom. She glanced briefly at Clive. They heard a key turn in the front door.

“Mom,” Franz called out. “Where are you?”

Kay went downstairs. Clive heard her say something.

“No, just go sit in the car,” Franz replied.

Franz climbed the stairs to the landing where Clive stood. Franz was tall and tanned, and he worked out. He walked past his father and picked up Kay’s suitcase.

“You’re an idiot, Dad,” Franz said quietly, on his way back.

“And you’re a mama’s boy,” Clive retorted.

Franz sighed and walked down the stairs with the suitcase. Clive couldn’t understand how he had managed to produce such a useless and pathetic excuse for a man. All brawn and no brain. Shortly afterward, he heard Franz rev the engine and drive off.

Downstairs in the kitchen, the saucepan had boiled dry and the eggs were blackened.

The first three days he sequestered himself in the house. He unplugged the telephone, switched off his cell phone, and didn’t check his e-mails. On the third day, the temptation to look became too great, but Kay hadn’t called or e-mailed him. Nor was there anything from Jack.

The kitchen looked a mess. On his first day alone, Clive opened every cupboard and lined up cans and dry foods to take stock of the situation. He had seemed to be well provided for, he had thought at the time, but his supply was dwindling fast. He went down the road to shop and as he walked, he pinched his nostrils. He and Kay had never had a real falling out. During their marriage she had walked out—once—and had been gone for three hours after an argument, but she had never left the family home for three days. He didn’t like it.

Inside the supermarket, Clive got a cart and stomped angrily up and down the aisles. He bought plenty of cakes, corn on the cob, packets of cold cuts, toilet paper, two bags of chips, and a case of beer. The supermarket was practically deserted; it was mid-morning and the obese woman at the checkout was in a chatty mood. When all his groceries had been scanned, she helped him pack and when he picked up the bags, she said, “So, welcome to Patbury Hill. Probably won’t be the last time we’ll be seeing each other. You’ll always have to go shopping.” She laughed and winked at Clive. Clive glared at her.

“I’ve lived here for more than twenty-five years,” he snarled.

The woman looked at him and giggled.

“Is that right? I don’t remember ever seeing you before,” she replied.

Clive turned on his heel and left.

When he got back, he sat down in his armchair with a small selection of cakes. He looked at his lawn. When he sat very still, the house felt so quiet, it was almost as if he didn’t exist.

Franz and Tom were both married and Clive didn’t really know them anymore. They had become rather remote since having children of their own. Young children were such hard work. When his own boys had been small, Clive would often sleep at his office to avoid the sleepless nights. Now Franz managed a gym, and Tom had an executive position with Canada Post. How hard could that be? His sons would come over for dinner every now and then, and they saw each other at birthdays and holidays—obviously—but it had been years since he and the boys had done something together. What a pair of sissies! They were always hugging Kay and chatting with her in the kitchen, when they should be manning the barbecue with their father. Somehow Clive had always felt a closer bond to Jack.

Michael Kramer called to ask why Clive hadn’t been at work. He tried to coax him by telling him they had plenty of promising research results to analyze; the project would finish in two weeks and then they could write their report. With a bit of luck, they could show up at the 27th International Bird Symposium in Copenhagen in October with a poster. They had roughly ten weeks to get it done.

“Sounds great,” Clive said. “You work it. I’m taking some sick leave. I’ve got an ear infection.”

“At your age?” Michael sounded surprised.

“Yes.”

“Are you okay?” his protégé asked.

“Never felt better,” Clive said and ended the call.

He sat holding the telephone for a while, then he called Kay. “‘New evidence is pouring out of the ground, Clive,’” he mimicked, while the telephone rang in his son and daughter-in-law’s house. Never heard such rubbish. There was nothing “new” about these bones, his idiot opponents had merely invented more fanciful interpretations. Franz’s wife answered. She sounded polite, but a little curt. Finally, Kay came to the telephone.

“Yes?” she said.

“How long are you planning on staying away? Come home, Kay. The place is a total mess.”

“Is that your way of apologizing?”

“Yes,” Clive said, laughing. “You know what I’m like. I’m a scientist. Come on home, honey.”

“Clive,” Kay said, “you don’t hit someone you love. And you don’t call three days later and pretend it’s no big deal, like you just did.” She hung up.

He called back immediately, but no one picked up the telephone.

During three more days and nights when Clive barely slept, he wrote a paper. His manifesto. When he had finished, he printed it out, placed the document on his desk, and took a nap. He dreamt about Jack, but the dream turned into a nightmare. Jack and Michael had both . . . they were . . . no, he couldn’t stand the thought of it. Jack and Michael couldn’t be compared, they weren’t even in the same league, and the mere thought that they. . . . Clive woke and touched his head. The sun had moved above the house and had been shining directly at his face while he snoozed. His stomach rumbled, but he had no appetite. He had tried every premade meal sold at the supermarket, every frozen pizza and casserole, every can and carton, and he felt sick. Their freezer was filled with food, but all of it required cooking. The previous day Clive had defrosted a leg of lamb and put it in the oven. How hard could it be? He promptly forgot all about it and when he finally detected the smell of roasting meat and raced to the kitchen, the surface of the meat was hard and dry. He picked at it, but it didn’t taste anything like it did when Kay cooked it. It tasted of burnt fabric.

He rose and fetched his manifesto. He wanted to have it published, not in a journal, but as a small book. On its cover would be a 3D depiction of
Archaeopteryx
—without this “new” femur that Helland and Tybjerg had conjured out of thin air, and which was now reproduced in every recent print of the bird. In Clive’s edition,
Archaeopteryx
would look exactly as it did when it was found in Solnhofen in 1877. Obviously Clive had been meticulous when he measured it in 1999. It was the most beautiful little bird in the whole world.

Clive sat down in the conservatory to proofread his text. His plan was to have it ready by the time he flew to Denmark.

He was deep in thought when there was a knock on the door. Someone put a key in the lock and Franz appeared.

“Hi, Dad,” he said, quickly.

Clive straightened up and reached out for the manuscript, which had slipped into his lap.

“Hello, Franz,” he replied, pushing up his glasses. “Do you want some coffee?”

Franz hesitated, then he shook his head.

“No, I’m a bit busy,” he said. “I’ve come to pick up some clothes and books for Mom.” He went upstairs. Clive stayed where he was and pretended to read. When Franz came back down he was holding a bag in one hand and, draped over his other arm, a garment bag containing Kay’s black dress with polished anthracite stones. Clive loved that dress. It hugged Kay’s hips and on the rare occasions when she wore it, she let her hair down and it would curl around her shoulders. The last time they had had sex had been an evening she had worn it. That was a very long time ago.

“What are you doing with that dress?” he demanded, hoarsely.

“Mom asked me to get it,” Franz replied.

“No,” Clive said. “That dress stays here.” He grabbed the garment bag.

“Don’t be stupid,” Franz said, firmly. “Mom needs it.”

“Why?”

“Molly and Jack are taking her to the theater,” Franz replied.

“No,” Clive said, snatching the dress.

Franz got mad and yanked the dress back from Clive. He stopped in the doorway and looked at his father.

“I don’t understand you anymore,” he said. “Not that I ever really have. But now I don’t understand you at all.” And he was gone.

Clive spent the rest of the afternoon trying not to think about Kay going to the theater with Molly and Jack. It was impossible. Jack in black tie, clean-shaven, his hair freshly cut, a look of concentration in his guarded eyes, his mouth relaxed and soft for once. Next to him, Kay in that black dress, pale and beautiful, sitting in an upholstered seat surrounded by expectant theatergoers, Molly’s hand resting on hers in sympathy.

The four of them had been to the opera that spring, and it had been a magical evening. During intermission they had drunk a little too much prosecco and after the intermission, Kay accidentally sat down first, so Clive ended up between her and Jack. Clive was so thrilled to be sitting between the two people who meant the most to him in all the world that he could barely concentrate on the second act. Kay had slipped her hand in his, and all down his right side he could feel a quivering heat from Jack when he shifted in his seat, when he laughed, when he leaned forward.

Jack and Kay going to the theater without him was an unforgivable act of betrayal.

This conclusion calmed him down. The human animal was fundamentally lonely, but in contrast to sentimental daydreamers, he had faced up to it. His priority now was the restoration of his professional reputation. Kay would come back sooner or later. Besides, she had no money.

Three weeks later, Clive was back at the department of Bird Evolution, Paleobiology, and Systematics. He cycled to the university and strode down the corridor. Michael emerged from his laboratory.

“Clive, my man,” he said. “Good to have you back.”

“Good morning,” Clive said, marching past the younger man to his office. The air was dusty and stuffy, so he opened the windows. His secretary entered shortly afterward with a pile of letters. Rumors of his return spread quickly, and at lunchtime Clive accepted Michael’s invitation to join him and the rest of the team in the cafeteria. They were all delighted to see him.

After lunch they started preparatory work on their poster. Clive and Michael reviewed the results from the cartilage condensation experiment, which looked very hopeful. Michael showed him microscope images of the various developmental stages. It was clear the primary cartilage formation in embryonic birds resulted in the carpal bone, the fourth metacarpal bone and the development of the fourth finger, which meant the bird hand couldn’t have evolved from the dinosaur hand,
unless
it was an example of mutation in both the symmetry of the fingers
and
in the hand’s existing central axis, and that was highly unlikely—obviously. Clive whistled softly. It was all very encouraging. The scent of cologne rose from the V-neck of Michael’s T-shirt and tickled Clive’s nose. If Michael hadn’t had a wife and two children, it would have been tempting to assume . . . Clive edged away from Michael a little.

“I’m buying you all dinner at the steakhouse,” he burst out. “Time to celebrate!” Besides Michael, he invited John, Angela, Piper, his secretary Ann, the two PhD students, and two new masters students. His loyal team.

None of them could make it. Michael had promised to
babysit
.

Clive spent the evening trawling through the program for the 27th Bird Symposium on the web. Tybjerg, that egomaniac, was giving no fewer than four lectures, which came as no surprise to Clive, but he was extremely surprised to discover that Helland’s name didn’t appear anywhere. Helland, who never attended symposia outside Europe, finally had the chance to put forward his nonsense ideas in his home country, so why not take it? Very odd. On checking his inbox, Clive realized that it had been a while since he had last heard from Helland. He started rereading their correspondence but soon stopped. He knew no one as snide and mean as Lars Helland, and it ruined his good mood.

It was mild outside and when Clive had opened the French doors, he called Michael to discuss the poster. Michael’s daughter picked up the telephone.

“I’m sorry, Professor Freeman, I’m afraid my dad’s not here,” she said.

“So who’s looking after you?” Clive asked.

The girl laughed.

“I’m fifteen and my sister is thirteen, so we can manage on our own.”

Clive was affronted.

“So where’s your father?” he asked.

“I think he had a meeting at the university,” the girl replied.

Clive thanked her and hung up.

He stared into space for a moment. Then he returned to his computer and clicked on the homepage of the Natural History Museum in Copenhagen where he discovered, to his delight, that they were putting on an exhibition about feathers. His joy, however, was short-lived. The title of the exhibition was “From Dino to Duvet.” Would it never end? He bet Tybjerg was the curator of that blasted exhibition. One day, probably when Clive was dead and buried, sadly, natural history museums the world over would hang their heads in shame at how wrong they had been.

Clive heard nothing from Jack, and Kay remained with Franz. Clive was annoyed she hadn’t bothered coming home yet, but he wouldn’t have time to do anything about it until after the symposium. His future career depended on the condensation experiment and the Copenhagen conference, and he needed space to think. At night he dreamt of Jack. Dark, freaky dreams, filled with sounds and Jack’s face lighting up in flashes, so all Clive had time to see was Jack’s snarling upper lip. He started taking half a sleeping pill and, to his relief, the nights became black and empty once more.