things were moving in the right direction and the world was, if not young and lovely, then not quite as decrepit as it had seemed the day before.
We shook hands, Lasse sat down and I ordered him a beer and a schnapps, ignoring his shake of the head. And another of the same for myself. You had to be allowed some pleasures when your wife had run off and taken the car with her.
Apparently it had all been pretty dramatic in Budapest. Niels had not come down for breakfast and Charlotte had been sent up to wake him. They had heard her come screaming all the way down the stairs to the breakfast room. Lasse had gone back up with her and found Niels lying on the floor with his head smashed in. The room had looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane. Things scattered everywhere. After that the place was in uproar. A doctor was called, then the police came; they spoke to everyone, but no one could be of any help. They had attended a meeting that evening with the foreign minister, afterwards they had had a drink in the bar and gone to bed shortly before midnight.
The hotel staff who had been on night duty and had gone home once the morning shift arrived, were woken and asked to come in.The night porter had seen nothing. There had been only the usual traffic, as he so diplomatically put it, of young ladies visiting lonely men in their rooms, but he knew all of them. They too would be interviewed.
‘It was all very confusing, Teddy,’ Lasse said between mouthfuls. For my own part, I was savouring the oily, slightly acidic firmness of the fried herring, which went so well with the soft onion and the cold beer. ‘They asked about one thing and another, but it was almost as if it was a routine occurrence for a foreign visitor to be murdered in the middle of the night in a top quality hotel in the middle of Budapest. It’s all very odd.’
‘Well, that’s the new world order for you,’ I remarked, raising my schnapps glass. ‘Here’s to life!’ I said.
‘Sometimes you’re just a little too morbid,’ he said, but raised his glass anyway.
‘It could have been me,’ I said. ‘Did that ever occur to you?’
I could see from his face that it had not. He said nothing and we sat for a moment, letting that thought sink in. He would never have said it outright, of course, but I could tell he was glad that it was Niels and not me, who had been killed. Wrong though it was of me I could not help feeling pleased about this. To have this confirmation that he was fond of me. Because I was fond of him.
We thrashed the matter out over smørbrød with roast beef and cheese, then we had coffee. We both felt sorry for Charlotte, and obviously it was strange to think that Niels was, as they say, no more, but we had not known him all that well. And sadly he was not the only one of our acquaintance to have passed away – to use another of those euphemisms designed to make the notion of death easier to take. Heart attacks had begun to strike down our colleagues at an appalling rate. All the living we had done was starting to catch up on us. We eventually agreed that it must have been a robbery that had gone wrong. Over coffee I then told him the trite, woeful, tedious story of Janne and me. It came as no surprise to him.
‘Maybe you just need a break from one another,’ he said.
I shook my head.
‘I don’t believe in breaks where love is concerned,’ I said. ‘I think Janne really loves the bastard. Or at least, is in love with the thought that he lusts after her.’
‘You have to learn to invest more of yourself in your relationships ,’ Lasse said, giving me the benefit, for the first time, of this particular insight. Although we were both products of the insistence in the sixties and seventies on expressing one’s feelings, we had not been particularly vocal on that score in the past twenty years. The new man had been trampled underfoot by the yuppies in the eighties.
‘Who says there are going to be any more?’ I
We shook hands, Lasse sat down and I ordered him a beer and a schnapps, ignoring his shake of the head. And another of the same for myself. You had to be allowed some pleasures when your wife had run off and taken the car with her.
Apparently it had all been pretty dramatic in Budapest. Niels had not come down for breakfast and Charlotte had been sent up to wake him. They had heard her come screaming all the way down the stairs to the breakfast room. Lasse had gone back up with her and found Niels lying on the floor with his head smashed in. The room had looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane. Things scattered everywhere. After that the place was in uproar. A doctor was called, then the police came; they spoke to everyone, but no one could be of any help. They had attended a meeting that evening with the foreign minister, afterwards they had had a drink in the bar and gone to bed shortly before midnight.
The hotel staff who had been on night duty and had gone home once the morning shift arrived, were woken and asked to come in.The night porter had seen nothing. There had been only the usual traffic, as he so diplomatically put it, of young ladies visiting lonely men in their rooms, but he knew all of them. They too would be interviewed.
‘It was all very confusing, Teddy,’ Lasse said between mouthfuls. For my own part, I was savouring the oily, slightly acidic firmness of the fried herring, which went so well with the soft onion and the cold beer. ‘They asked about one thing and another, but it was almost as if it was a routine occurrence for a foreign visitor to be murdered in the middle of the night in a top quality hotel in the middle of Budapest. It’s all very odd.’
‘Well, that’s the new world order for you,’ I remarked, raising my schnapps glass. ‘Here’s to life!’ I said.
‘Sometimes you’re just a little too morbid,’ he said, but raised his glass anyway.
‘It could have been me,’ I said. ‘Did that ever occur to you?’
I could see from his face that it had not. He said nothing and we sat for a moment, letting that thought sink in. He would never have said it outright, of course, but I could tell he was glad that it was Niels and not me, who had been killed. Wrong though it was of me I could not help feeling pleased about this. To have this confirmation that he was fond of me. Because I was fond of him.
We thrashed the matter out over smørbrød with roast beef and cheese, then we had coffee. We both felt sorry for Charlotte, and obviously it was strange to think that Niels was, as they say, no more, but we had not known him all that well. And sadly he was not the only one of our acquaintance to have passed away – to use another of those euphemisms designed to make the notion of death easier to take. Heart attacks had begun to strike down our colleagues at an appalling rate. All the living we had done was starting to catch up on us. We eventually agreed that it must have been a robbery that had gone wrong. Over coffee I then told him the trite, woeful, tedious story of Janne and me. It came as no surprise to him.
‘Maybe you just need a break from one another,’ he said.
I shook my head.
‘I don’t believe in breaks where love is concerned,’ I said. ‘I think Janne really loves the bastard. Or at least, is in love with the thought that he lusts after her.’
‘You have to learn to invest more of yourself in your relationships ,’ Lasse said, giving me the benefit, for the first time, of this particular insight. Although we were both products of the insistence in the sixties and seventies on expressing one’s feelings, we had not been particularly vocal on that score in the past twenty years. The new man had been trampled underfoot by the yuppies in the eighties.
‘Who says there are going to be any more?’ I
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