Karin Fossum - Calling Out For You aka The Indian Bride

Skarre, whose English was better than Sejer's, led the conversation.

"Mr Bai," he said, "is there anything you'd like to say to Mr Jomann?"

Bai looked askance at Gunder. "I want to take my sister home. She never arrived. Home is India," he said in a low voice.

Gunder stared at the floor. At his feet. He'd forgotten to polish his shoes, they were grey with dust. He was screaming inside, pleas he could not put into words. Bribes. Money, perhaps. Poona had said he was very poor. Then he felt ashamed.

"Perhaps we can talk about it," he said hesitantly.

"No discussion," Bai said abruptly, pressing his lips together.

He looked angry. Not sad about his sister, not weighed down by grief. Not horrified by what had happened, which the police had explained to him down to the last detail. He was angry. Silence followed while the four men in the room waited for each other. Gunder did not have the strength to talk about his rights as a husband or raise the subject of Norwegian and Indian law, or of his own broken heart. He felt powerless.

"I have a single request," he said eventually. His voice was close to cracking. "Just one request. That you come to my house and see Poona's home. What I wanted to give her!"

Bai made no reply. His face was hard. Gunder bowed his head. Skarre looked insistently at Shiraz Bai.

"Would you like to see Mr Jomann's house? It's important to him to show it to you." The question was an appeal, bordering on being an order.

Bai shrugged. Gunder wished the floor would open up and let him fall down into an endless darkness, perhaps all the way down to Poona. Then he would find peace at last. Peace from this stubborn man with the bitter face. From everything that was difficult. Marie, who might wake up and dribble like an idiot. His head was full of noise. I'm going to faint, he thought. I have never fainted in my life. But he did not. He felt how his face, too, became hard and closed.

"Would you like to see Mr Jomann's house?" Skarre repeated. He spoke in an exaggeratedly slow manner as if he were speaking to a child.

At last Bai nodded, an uninterested nod;

"Let's go then," Gunder said nervously and jumped up from the chair. He had an important task ahead of him and had to act while he still felt capable of it. Bai hesitated.

"We go in my car," Gunder said. "I will take you back to the hotel."

"Is that all right with you?" Skarre said, looking at Bai, who nodded in return. The two men walked side by side down the corridor. Gunder heavy and broad with his bald crown and Bai dark and lean with his thick blue-black mane.

Skarre said a silent prayer that Bai would soften. Sometimes it happened that his prayers were answered.

He went back to Sejer's office and took a bag of jelly babies from his pocket. The plastic rustled as he opened the bag.

"Do you still believe in God?" Sejer said, studying him with a friendly gaze.

Skarre picked a jelly baby from the bag. "The green ones are my favourites," he said, avoiding the question.

"Perhaps your faith has started to fray?"

"When I was a boy," Skarre said, "I used to put a jelly baby in my mouth and keep it there till the sugar had dissolved. Then I'd take it out again and it would be clear as glass. They look better without the sugar," he said thoughtfully.

He sucked his green one for a long time, then took it out. "Look!"

It dangled from his fingers and was quite transparent.

"Coward," Sejer smiled.

"What about you?" Skarre said, confronting his boss. "How do you feel about the power?"

Sejer raised his eyebrows. "How do you mean?"

"You once said you believe in a power. Godless as you claim to be, you must have found something else. Strange, isn't it? We do need something."

"Yes. I believe in a power, but we exist as independent entities," Sejer said. "We don't talk to one another."

"Lonely, in other words. You can't ask for anything, you can't find fault with it and rage at it."

"So that's what you do when you say your prayers at night?"

"That too." He took a red jelly baby.

"Say a prayer for Gunder," Sejer said. He stuck his arms into the sleeves of his jacket and walked to the door. Switched off the ceiling light.

"May the force be with you," Skarre said.

Gunder opened the car door for Shiraz. He was now overcome with humility. Poona would have wanted him to receive her brother well. If she could see them now, see this childish defiance between them, she would have frowned. He with his clenched jaw. Shiraz with his eyes narrowed. It'll be over soon, Gunder thought; he didn't believe that fate would ever smile on him again. But he promised to try hard. They drove out of town. It was a beautiful autumn day and the landscape appeared very exotic to Shiraz. Gunder started to talk. Short sentences in English which Shiraz understood. I grew up here. Lived here all my life. It's a quiet place. We all know one another. House built in 1920. Not big, but in good condition. Garden. Nice view. Very nice kitchen, he said. Shiraz kept looking out of his window.

"We have shops and a bank and a post office and a café. A school and a kindergarten. A pretty church. I want to show you the church."

Shiraz said nothing. Deep inside he must have known what Gunder was trying to do. They drove to Elvestad Church. A pretty wooden church with a gently sloping graveyard, still green and lush. There were even a few flowers here and there. The church was rather small, but it brightened up the landscape, blinding white against the dark green. Gunder stopped the car and got out. Shiraz stayed sitting inside. But Gunder didn't give in. He was in action now, this was his last move, the last of his strength was mobilised for this one project. To keep his dead wife. He opened the door on the passenger side, stood there waiting, expectantly. Shiraz got out reluctantly. Peered out on the church and the graves.

"If Poona is allowed to stay, this is where she will lie. I will visit her grave every day. Plant and decorate with flowers. I have plenty of time. All the time I have left I will give to Poona."

Shiraz said nothing, but he was listening. He did not know if he thought the place was pretty. He looked rather surprised. Gunder started walking among the graves. Shiraz followed him at a fair distance. He saw Gunder stop by a grave and approached him cautiously.

"My mother," Gunder said. "Poona would not be alone."

Shiraz stared at the gravestone.

"Do you like it?" Gunder said, watching him. Shiraz shrugged. Gunder hated that he only shrugged. Poona never did that; she always answered clearly and precisely.

"Now we go to the house," Gunder said, and walked back to the car. He was still focused, but it sapped his strength. They pulled up in the yard. Bai looked at the garden and the view.

"Apples," Gunder said, pointing at the trees. "Very good apples."

Shiraz nodded. They went into the hall. He showed him the living room, wandered around, pointing, took him to the kitchen, the bathroom and upstairs. There were two bedrooms. A large one, which was to have been his and Poona's, and a smaller one which was a spare bedroom. Marie slept there when she came to visit. Used to sleep there.

"Your room. If you came to stay," Gunder said. "We wanted to invite you." Shiraz looked into the simple room. A bed was made up with a crocheted bedspread. Blue curtains and a lamp on the bedside table. If Shiraz was impressed he did not show it. They moved on to the rest of the house. Gunder wanted Shiraz to say something, but he said nothing at all. They had finished, they had been everywhere. Gunder made coffee and took some griddle cake out of the freezer. Marie had made it, using butter and sugar and cinnamon. Gunder knew they used a lot of cinnamon in India, perhaps Shiraz would like it. But he would not touch the cake. He did put a lot of sugar in his coffee and did not like that either. Gunder felt despondent once more.