Christian Jungersen - The Exception

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 …?’