and all that, but at the same time
she was envious of me.'
Gunnarstranda
smiled in acknowledgement.
'She
was envious of my life, house, money and the car I drive. Please don't
misunderstand me. Such envy is healthy. That type of girl, however, needs
clear, specific models; their personality is too fragile and their self-image
too vulnerable to come to terms with the fact that life can be hard. Their
whole problem is that when they come face to face with reality, when they are
confronted by adversity and the going gets tough, they resort to drugs. That is
a world they can control; the drugs milieu is full of clichés, as you
know. Not even the worst soap opera on TV can be as superficial or hollow or as
full of vacuous phrases as a conversation between two addicts.'
Gunnarstranda
sipped his coffee and was on the point of saying something.
'I'm
sorry,' Sigrid said, suddenly seeming depressed. 'It's just that I can't take
it in that I'm talking about Katrine. Of course I know she's dead, but it's
strange anyway…'
'If
she had died in a different way,' the policeman said, 'let's suppose, of the
classic overdose, for example, I daresay we would not have been sitting here
discussing her.'
Sigrid
Haugom closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. Silence fell over the room.*
Gunnarstranda leaned back and watched her from beneath half- closed eyelids.
She shifted position, cleared her throat and said: 'Death is not so unusual in
this job, of course. We've had several patients who have died. Death and
overdoses are daily topics of conversation - in fact. But addicts are never
killed by someone else; they tend to kill themselves.' She looked down.
Gunnarstranda
nodded. 'What did you think about fru Ås inviting her to a party at her
home on Saturday?'
'I
was against it, and I definitely thought it was premature.'
'What
do you mean by premature?
'The
difficulty for our patients is that they often have to be fundamentalists to
survive. They have to be off all drugs, off alcohol and off former friends. Do
you understand? But the world isn't like that. The world is full of overlapping
networks. Reality consists of people who build alliances. The world is full of
double standards and territorial battles. At the Centre we do have occasional
parties. Everyone does. But I didn't like Katrine being there. For our patients
it's tough to face the fact that the very people who work every day at ridding
them of their addictions turn to alcohol when they want to enjoy themselves.
Everyone drinks with moderation. Well, maybe not everyone. Some drink
themselves legless. The difference between an addict and a so-called normal
person is that the latter can adapt their lives to the demands of everyday
living. They go to work sober, drink a beer in the sun - but they stop there.
In my opinion, the kind of party Annabeth has is a revolting ritual. Revolting is my word and I am against that kind of ritual. When a patient
like Katrine takes part, the party changes character; it becomes a sort of
confirmation ceremony, with the patient showing us that she can deal with the
life to which she has to return.'
A
sort of initiation test into the normal world?'
'Not
my words, but you've got my point.'
'But
weren't you worried when she fell ill?'
Sigrid
Haugom sighed and stared out of the window, sunk in her own thoughts while
absentmindedly running a hand up and down her leg and scratching herself. The
room was silent except for a wall clock and its hollow, raindrop-like, ticking
sounds. Gunnarstranda peered up at it: old-fashioned craftsmanship with a dial
made of matt porcelain, covered in stains. The Roman numerals were neatly
painted and the same neatness was visible on the clock hands. A carved eagle
adorned the wooden clock, and the pendulum that hung next to the wall swung
from side to side between two weights, much like fir cones in
she was envious of me.'
Gunnarstranda
smiled in acknowledgement.
'She
was envious of my life, house, money and the car I drive. Please don't
misunderstand me. Such envy is healthy. That type of girl, however, needs
clear, specific models; their personality is too fragile and their self-image
too vulnerable to come to terms with the fact that life can be hard. Their
whole problem is that when they come face to face with reality, when they are
confronted by adversity and the going gets tough, they resort to drugs. That is
a world they can control; the drugs milieu is full of clichés, as you
know. Not even the worst soap opera on TV can be as superficial or hollow or as
full of vacuous phrases as a conversation between two addicts.'
Gunnarstranda
sipped his coffee and was on the point of saying something.
'I'm
sorry,' Sigrid said, suddenly seeming depressed. 'It's just that I can't take
it in that I'm talking about Katrine. Of course I know she's dead, but it's
strange anyway…'
'If
she had died in a different way,' the policeman said, 'let's suppose, of the
classic overdose, for example, I daresay we would not have been sitting here
discussing her.'
Sigrid
Haugom closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. Silence fell over the room.*
Gunnarstranda leaned back and watched her from beneath half- closed eyelids.
She shifted position, cleared her throat and said: 'Death is not so unusual in
this job, of course. We've had several patients who have died. Death and
overdoses are daily topics of conversation - in fact. But addicts are never
killed by someone else; they tend to kill themselves.' She looked down.
Gunnarstranda
nodded. 'What did you think about fru Ås inviting her to a party at her
home on Saturday?'
'I
was against it, and I definitely thought it was premature.'
'What
do you mean by premature?
'The
difficulty for our patients is that they often have to be fundamentalists to
survive. They have to be off all drugs, off alcohol and off former friends. Do
you understand? But the world isn't like that. The world is full of overlapping
networks. Reality consists of people who build alliances. The world is full of
double standards and territorial battles. At the Centre we do have occasional
parties. Everyone does. But I didn't like Katrine being there. For our patients
it's tough to face the fact that the very people who work every day at ridding
them of their addictions turn to alcohol when they want to enjoy themselves.
Everyone drinks with moderation. Well, maybe not everyone. Some drink
themselves legless. The difference between an addict and a so-called normal
person is that the latter can adapt their lives to the demands of everyday
living. They go to work sober, drink a beer in the sun - but they stop there.
In my opinion, the kind of party Annabeth has is a revolting ritual. Revolting is my word and I am against that kind of ritual. When a patient
like Katrine takes part, the party changes character; it becomes a sort of
confirmation ceremony, with the patient showing us that she can deal with the
life to which she has to return.'
A
sort of initiation test into the normal world?'
'Not
my words, but you've got my point.'
'But
weren't you worried when she fell ill?'
Sigrid
Haugom sighed and stared out of the window, sunk in her own thoughts while
absentmindedly running a hand up and down her leg and scratching herself. The
room was silent except for a wall clock and its hollow, raindrop-like, ticking
sounds. Gunnarstranda peered up at it: old-fashioned craftsmanship with a dial
made of matt porcelain, covered in stains. The Roman numerals were neatly
painted and the same neatness was visible on the clock hands. A carved eagle
adorned the wooden clock, and the pendulum that hung next to the wall swung
from side to side between two weights, much like fir cones in
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