The Exception (32 page)

‘Anne-Lise, is this a good idea?’

She looks up at him.

He gets up, closes the door and dims the light. One of the good things about their solidly built old house is that sounds do not travel. Once the door is closed, there is no need to worry about the children.

His chest is against hers. Every pore in her skin is wide open. She’s sweating.

‘What’s happening?’ Henrik asks. She’s never been like this before. ‘I love it,’ he says, and ‘I didn’t think you felt this way.’

And then they are both silent.

A pillow falls to the floor with a faint thump, then the duvet follows, absorbing its own sound as it falls.

This is how I want to die, she thinks. To disappear like this, happy, because in reality, I’m already gone.

Every time he thrusts into her, words form silently inside her. Kill me, she thinks. She must not say it aloud. He would stop at once.

Now she’s nearly reduced to nothingness. Softly, she dreams on.

Kill me! Kill me! Kill me!

Anne-Lise has never experienced anything like this. Not with anyone. She registers his smell.

Something has given way inside the mattress. The springs groan like a giant struggling for breath. Anne-Lise finally slips away while her mind whispers on inaudibly.

Kill me! Kill me! Kill me!

All day long Anne-Lise imagines that everything will change now.

True, she knows that she pays far too much attention to what Malene and Iben do, even to the expressions on their faces. All the interpretation and forecasting exhausts her. Still, today something radically new has happened.

In the morning Iben had phoned from the City Hospital’s rheumatology clinic. She was there with Malene, who was ill. Iben had said that Tatiana planned to write an important article and suggested that Anne-Lise should call Tatiana and offer to help.

None of her new colleagues had ever done anything like this. Anne-Lise phoned Henrik straight away.

‘There, you see. Maybe we’ll collaborate from now on.’

He said ‘Yes’, and was so nice to her. She knows well that he doesn’t take any of her ‘fantasies’, as he calls them, seriously.

A small part of her is aware that real change isn’t very likely. It makes her more vulnerable. Every time they turn on the kindness she can’t help thinking that all the tension might be due to her own misunderstanding, or pile-up of misunderstandings.

The day at DCGI is over and Anne-Lise is about to pick Clara up from her nursery class. As she walks into the small, yellow-brick school, she meets other parents and children she knows. A good day at the office means that she is not her usual worn-out self and a cheerful tune she heard on the car radio is playing in her head. This afternoon she almost feels as she used to feel before DCGI.

She walks through the first, then the second set of doors to the main room. It’s quiet in there. After saying hello to a father
who is leaving with his two children, she spots Clara at a table, cutting shapes from shiny pieces of coloured paper. Anne-Lise sits down and helps her stick the shapes onto a plain white sheet.

Almost at once a teacher comes along to tell her that Clara has been involved in fights twice that day. The second time she fought with a boy and hit him on the head with a branch. The teachers had to bandage the wound.

Anne-Lise’s mobile phone rings. It’s Paul. She interrupts the teacher. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s my boss. Do you mind if I take the call?’

Paul sounds as if it’s urgent. ‘Hello, Anne-Lise. All right for us to talk?’

‘Yes, fine.’

‘That’s good. Listen, I’ve just had a call from Iben. She’s in the hospital.’

‘Yes?’

‘She has taken Malene to the rheumatology clinic. They’ve been there all day.’

‘I know. Iben called me earlier.’

‘And she told me, and I’m afraid they are in complete agreement …’

Anne-Lise realises that he’s about to say something bad. Paul is being unusually hesitant. Anne-Lise withdraws into a corner and turns her back to the room.

‘They believe someone has tampered with Malene’s tablets and exchanged her medicine for something that has no effect on – on her arthritis. And that’s why it has flared up so badly.’

‘That’s terrible.’

‘And it was extremely painful.’

‘Yes, I see. Of course. Such a …’ Anne-Lise stops. She grasps what Paul is actually trying to say. ‘They think that “someone” removed her proper medicine?’

‘That’s what they believe. I’m really not sure how to say this but … they don’t want to confront you themselves.’

Paul takes a quick breath and speaks again. ‘They say you are
the only one who could have exchanged the tablets.’

Anne-Lise suddenly deflates. She stares straight ahead at a world in coloured crayons, where smoke whirls from the chimneys of square houses and people have matchstick legs and big, round eyes. She sees the drawing pins sticking each drawing to the bulletin board. She sinks down to sit on a child’s chair; its back is barely knee-height.

She can’t think of anything to say. Paul is kind enough not to continue.

Turning to look at Clara, she takes in the scene: the teacher, the other children and their parents. The teacher tries to look as if she isn’t listening.

Anne-Lise whispers: ‘But Paul, it can’t be … Paul, you must see this is crazy! I could never do something like that!’

‘I agree, naturally. I don’t believe that you did.’

Anne-Lise perches on the tiny chair, hunched over. ‘I didn’t! We’ve worked together for a year, Paul. You must know me by now.’

Clara comes along. Her fingers are still stuck in the handles of her blunt child’s scissors. Anne-Lise persuades her to go back to the table with the shiny paper. Then she remembers Iben’s chatter about how a person can have several different personalities and not be aware of them. Paul will have heard it too, of course.

Is that why Iben has been harping on about these theories? Is it part of a plan to force Paul into sacking her?

Behind her a child is screaming. Anne-Lise gets up. The movement is too quick and she feels faint. She bends over to get some blood back to her head. Paul is still speaking, but she can’t catch what he’s saying. She hurries out of the room to the adult toilet to finish their talk.

When she returns, the teacher is waiting for her. She insists on going over Clara’s fight. Anne-Lise still feels unsteady.

The teacher’s tone of voice has acquired a sharp edge. ‘We had to tell Aleksander to sit still for a quarter of an hour, to make
sure he didn’t have concussion. Luckily, the bandage did the trick. He was able to play for the rest of the day, but Liselotte was quite worried when she came and noticed the swelling on his head.’

The teacher drones on and on. Anne-Lise leans against a wall. This will take some time.

‘And I feel I should let you know that Clara has been in a lot of fights recently.’

Anne-Lise feels like shouting at her: ‘It’s all my fault! Blame me! Everything is falling to pieces around me. It’s because I can’t remember anything. And I cry all the time and my colleagues think I’m impossible.’ But she manages to keep her composure. They probably think she seems rather distant anyway.

When the subject of fighting has been exhausted, Anne-Lise asks if Clara can stay a little longer. She has to make another phone call and it will be much easier if she doesn’t have Clara with her.

‘Clara, darling, I have to make a phone call. You go on playing for a while and then I’ll come and get you. All right?’

Clara doesn’t reply, but tears herself away and runs off with the others.

Back in the toilet, Anne-Lise realises that it is far from private. Anyone can hear what she’s saying, especially if voices are raised. She decides to sit in the car instead.

When she gets into the car, parents are still coming and going. She decides to drive a few blocks away.

Anne-Lise parks in a little side road leading into the Vaserne nature reserve. Certainly no one from the nursery school will come this way. She turns off the engine and sits back to collect her thoughts. The trees outside are bare – winter is approaching. Steeling herself, she dials Iben’s home number.

Paul was right. Iben is convinced that Anne-Lise is the one who sent the anonymous emails and exchanged Malene’s medicine. Anne-Lise tries to defend herself, but nothing she says can persuade Iben. It doesn’t take long before Anne-Lise’s voice has
risen to a shout, as she desperately swears that she didn’t do any of it. She swears by everything she believes in – her husband, her health, even her children. This last oath brings stinging regret – she should never, never have sworn by her children, especially to someone as hostile as Iben.

Of course she knows that she hasn’t touched the pills. But if there is any truth in the theories about dissociated personalities, then Iben might herself be capable of absolutely anything.

Anne-Lise and Henrik’s peaceful time together begins after ten thirty. The house is quiet and the television is turned off. Henrik sits on their black sofa, going through various papers he has brought home from work.

Some evenings, Anne-Lise reads
Information
. She has persuaded Henrik that they should subscribe, hoping it might help her to join in the DCGI chatter. At other times, she lies on the sofa with a throw over her legs and her head resting on Henrik’s thigh. This is when she is able to clear her head and recharge her batteries to help her face the next day. It is the quiet evenings with Henrik that have given her the strength to endure the year at DCGI.

She is resting on the sofa now, sensing the warmth of his leg against her cheek. Now and then his large hand strokes the back of her head and, when he turns a page, his sleeve sometimes touches her cheek.

They have talked about Malene’s medication and agree that Malene and Iben are likely to have cooled down by the following day. It could be Malene herself, after all, who mistook one batch of pills for another. Even if Malene and Iben won’t buy that theory, it’s obvious that someone else could have done it, and not just Anne-Lise.

Anne-Lise looks past the stack of books on the coffee table at the engraving of the Lyngby Central Library, speculating what the next day might bring. She thinks about Henrik – how incredibly good and how protective he is of her.

Once, halfway through a skiing holiday in Austria, Henrik took a phone message saying that Anne-Lise’s aunt had fallen seriously ill. He made sure that several members of Anne-Lise’s family knew his mobile number, so they could get hold of him if the aunt’s condition worsened. But he didn’t mention anything about it to her. They enjoyed the week and then, afterwards, he told her and added that there had been no point in ruining the holiday for her if the illness wasn’t as bad as it had at first seemed.

‘Henrik?’

‘What is it?’

‘About the emails …?’ She tries to sound as gentle as she can. He mustn’t take this the wrong way. She puts her hand on his thigh where it’s still warm from her cheek. ‘Look, I think it was sweet of you to send them. You did it to help me, I know that. And things really did get better. Well, for a while.’

‘I didn’t send the emails.’

‘Look, I think it was sweet of you. Honestly.’

‘Listen, I did not send them.’ He puts down his papers.

She peers into his face, trying to read any sign that, yet again, he is protecting her. If he is, he is fantastically good at hiding it.

‘If you look at the text of the emails, they say different things. Iben is called “self-righteous”, Malene is told she is “evil” and Camilla that she is a “collaborator” who believes she’s innocent. Who, apart from you and I, know that they really are like that?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘No, neither do I.’

She smiles, wanting to persuade him to share his secret with her.

‘Come on, you can tell me. I love you for it.’

His expression is growing colder. ‘And do you believe that I exchanged the pills as well?’

She is taken aback. ‘No. Of course not.’

He sees through her. She hadn’t foreseen this. The last thing she wants is to sour the air between them.

‘Only you’ve said so often that you truly hate them. And of course I’d understand if you had done it.’

‘But …?’

The muscles around his mouth and eyes have tensed up. It’s such a small change, but Anne-Lise cannot bear seeing it.

He puts his hands on her shoulders and speaks slowly. ‘Anne-Lise, I did not do those things. Neither one, nor the other.’

‘No, I see. I believe you. It’s just … you know how you can be.’

‘What if there is some truth in the idea about dissociated identities?’ Anne-Lise and Henrik are brushing their teeth together.

‘I agree that it looks as if it was an inside job. It’s unbelievable, but who else could have done it? Everyone knows Malene’s bag. No one could have thought it was my bag or that it was my tablets they were swapping.’

‘There’s Camilla. She’s the only one who could have sent the emails and exchanged Malene’s tablets.’

‘But that doesn’t fit at all. I didn’t think she was like that.’ Anne-Lise drops the toothpaste tube. A line of white paste ends up on the tiled floor. She picks up the tube. ‘But, it could be why she stayed at home for so long after receiving an email herself. Everything had become too much for her. The story about her ex-partner could just be a cover-up. Oh, I don’t know. It still doesn’t make any sense. She just isn’t like that!’

‘Did Iben say anything about how you find out if someone has a split personality?’

‘Well, sort of. Camilla could be hiding a bitter hatred towards Iben and Malene … That, I would find easy to believe. They don’t behave well towards her, but you don’t notice it so much compared to the way they treat me. There would be times in her life which she can’t or won’t remember. But then, that’s true of most people.’

The top of the toothpaste tube won’t screw back on properly. Anne-Lise stops trying and puts it down.

‘Dissociated personality is a very serious mental illness and
Iben says that the patient has usually had a terrible childhood, they’ve been abused, physically or sexually. That’s something they seem to have in common.’