Юхан Теорин - The Asylum

She sounded so certain, and it was catching.

‘I’ve got the school yearbook,’ he said. ‘There are pictures of them, with names and addresses.’

‘OK.’

Jan looked at her, wanting to say something honest and profound, but Rami went on: ‘There’s something you can do for me too.’

‘What?’

‘I’ll show you... Come with me.’

She led him out into the corridor, looked around and headed towards the staffroom. It was six thirty; the day staff had gone home and the door was closed. Next to the door a series of colour photographs and names were pinned up, under the heading DEPARTMENT 16 — THE TEAM.

Rami pointed to a picture of a smiling woman with a fringe swept to one side, and big glasses. ‘That’s her.’

Jan recognized her; she was the woman Rami had called the Psychobabbler, the one she had fought with in the TV room. Underneath the picture was her name and job title: Emma Halevi, Psychologist .

‘She interrupted our gig,’ said Jan. ‘And she locked you in the Black Hole.’

‘Yes,’ said Rami. ‘And then she took my diary.’

Jan nodded; he remembered.

‘She read it,’ Rami said. ‘I had a book like the one I gave you... I’d filled fifty pages, but she took it.’

Jan looked at the picture. He could hear Rami’s quiet voice in his ear: ‘I’m going to run away tomorrow. When I’m gone, I want you to do something to the Psychobabbler... creep in and piss on her desk, scribble graffiti all over her door, or something. Make her feel scared.’

‘OK,’ Jan said.

‘You’ll do it?’

He nodded slowly, as if he were agreeing to undertake a secret mission. He would make the Psychobabbler feel really, really scared, for Rami’s sake.

‘Am I supposed to feel sorry for the patients?’ Lilian says, laughing over her beer. ‘They do a pretty good job of that all on their own, the lot of them. They sit up there behind the wall feeling sorry for themselves, insisting that they’re innocent .’

‘Do they?’ Jan asks.

‘Of course. Every paedophile and murderer is entirely innocent, you must know that... No one behind bars ever accepts responsibility for anything.’

Jan doesn’t agree, but he says nothing.

He has gone down to Bill’s Bar the evening after Lilian’s quarrel with Marie-Louise. Lilian was sitting there, of course, at a table towards the back of the bar. And of course there was a large glass of beer in front of her, and the way in which her head was swaying over it like a cobra hypnotized by a snake charmer suggested that it wasn’t her first.

She didn’t notice Jan when he walked in. She was not alone; Hanna was sitting opposite her, with a glass of water in front of her. As usual they looked as if they were sharing secrets, whispering to each other with their heads close together.

The bartender tonight is called Allan. They are not friends — Jan hasn’t managed to make a single friend here in Valla — but he has got to know the names of the bartenders.

Jan orders an alcohol-free beer. He wonders whether to sneak off and sit in a different part of the bar, but no doubt Hanna would spot him on the way. And why should he creep about?

He goes over to join his colleagues. ‘Evening,’ he says.

‘Jan!’ Lilian beams at him; she seems glad of the interruption.

Hanna’s expressionless eyes reveal nothing. She gives a brief nod, and Jan sits down.

‘What are you drinking?’ Lilian asks.

‘Alcohol-free,’ he says. ‘I have to work tomorrow, so I can’t...’

‘Alcohol-free?’ Lilian gives a husky laugh and picks up her glass. ‘There’s plenty of alcohol in here!’

Jan doesn’t raise his glass in return; both he and Hanna look on in silence as Lilian tips her head back and empties half the contents of her glass.

Then she lowers her head, and Jan can see that she’s not in good shape this evening. Lilian stares into her drink, then embarks on the same tirade about the hospital that Jan heard the very first time they met at Bill’s Bar.

She starts talking again about the ‘luxury hotel’, as she calls it. ‘I was curious about the people in there when I first arrived, but I’ve never felt sorry for them. I mean, if a person claims he’s innocent, says he didn’t murder or attack someone... Well, how can you cure them, in that case?’

Nobody answers her. She has another swig. Jan thinks her expression is beginning to resemble the drugged eyes of the patients down in the basement chapel at St Psycho’s.

Lilian puts down her glass. ‘I need a wee.’

She has problems getting up — the edge of the table seems to be holding her back — but eventually she wobbles away.

Jan and Hanna watch her go.

‘How many has she had?’ Jan asks.

‘No idea. She was already well on the way when I got here, but... She’s had three since then.’

Jan merely nods.

‘I feel sorry for her,’ Hanna goes on.

‘I feel sorry for lots of people,’ Jan says. ‘Leo, for example.’

‘So you said.’ Hanna looks at him. ‘You think about the children a lot, don’t you?’

‘I care about them.’ Then Jan remembers that he has told Hanna about William’s disappearance, and is afraid that what he says might sound suspicious. He adds, ‘We all care about the children, Hanna.’

‘We do.’

‘Oh? But you care more about Ivan Rössel, don’t you?’

She shakes her head. ‘No. Well yes, I mean I care about Ivan, but... You don’t understand what this is about, Jan.’

‘No. It’s nothing to do with me, anyway.’ He has already finished his beer, and gets to his feet. Perhaps he might as well go home.

But Hanna seems to make a decision. She leans across the table and lowers her voice. ‘It’s about Ivan Rössel... and Lilian.’

‘Lilian?’

Hanna looks at him as if she is gathering strength before making some kind of revelation. ‘I made contact with Ivan for Lilian’s sake.’

Jan sits down again. ‘Sorry... what did you say?’

‘Ivan knows things. And I’m trying to get him to tell me.’

‘Tell you what ?’

‘That’s better!’ a voice calls. ‘Did you miss me, kids?’ Lilian is back, with another beer. She sways and beams at them. ‘There was a girl crying her eyes out in the toilets,’ she says, sitting down next to Jan. ‘There’s always somebody howling in the Ladies, isn’t there, Hanna? Why do they do that?’

Hanna has clammed up. She glances at Jan, then says, ‘Time we made a move.’

Lilian looks surprised. ‘Already?’

Hanna nods. ‘I’m calling a taxi... We’ll drop you off.’

‘But... but what about my drink?’

‘We’ll help you.’ Hanna reaches for the glass, takes a couple of swigs and passes it to Jan. ‘Here.’

He’s not keen, but he takes a sip of the bitter liquid.

‘OK, Lilian, time to go.’

Fifteen minutes later they are helping their colleague into a taxi outside the bar. Hanna directs the driver to a small terraced house in an area just north of the centre; the lights are on, and Jan catches a glimpse of a man in his forties peering out at the taxi from the kitchen window.

Jan recognizes him; he is the man who walked Lilian to the pre-school one evening.

‘You’re so good to me... so kind...’

Lilian thanks them several times for bringing her home, hugs Jan, kisses Hanna on both cheeks and eventually totters off towards her front door.

‘OK.’ Hanna turns to the driver. ‘Back to the town centre, please... to the Casino Bar.’

‘Casino?’ says Jan.

‘It’s not a casino. That’s just the name.’

The Casino Bar is on a back street, in a less well-populated area than Bill’s Bar, and the clientele consists mainly of men. Jan suspects that this is usually the case. A few men in their fifties are slumped in front of a widescreen TV by the bar staring morosely at an Italian football match, as if their team were losing. The remaining tables are mostly empty.