Christian Jungersen - The Exception

There seemed to be no limit to what the interviewer from Politiken could pry out of his subject. Ole spoke freely about the way modern psychopharmacology had completely changed his life and added that he couldn’t stop speculating about what his life might have been like if anti-depressants had been available a couple of decades earlier.

He admitted the fact that the pills made him impotent, but thought it a minor drawback compared to relief from the black months of depression. Besides, after a period of getting used to it, he was proud to say that he had taken on the challenge and turned it into something positive. His sex life had become enriched by a number of new ‘approaches’ that, in his experience, pleased women enormously.

Anne-Lise read the interview over and over again. Afterwards she discussed it with Henrik. She would never have thought of Ole as depressed. It struck her then how little she knew about her co-workers. Over the last few weeks, she has thought about it even more.

On the Monday after the interview was published, Iben was off and running with a lecture about psychopharmaceuticals, stressing that tiny chemical shifts can cause emotional imbalances and that no amount of therapy would help. This was one of her classic arguments, like her ‘Human beings are like animals’ speech.

Inevitably, everyone joked about the things Ole revealed.

When Ole turned up in the office a few days later, he was the centre of attention, much more so than usual. Everyone praised him for being so open and honest. Iben spoke of one of her aunts, who had suffered badly from depression. Malene had a story about friends whose marriage had been destroyed by the illness. Ole in turn behaved as if he had expected their response. He took it for granted to such an extent that he glowed at their praise even before they offered it. His acknowledgement of any unspoken awkwardness put them at ease immediately.

Today, smiling broadly and with the folder stuck under his arm, Ole moves towards Paul and Gunnar as they come out of the library.

‘Hello, Gunnar. Good to know that we’ve got something here you can use for Development. ’

Gunnar, who is a head taller than both the other men, looks radiant. The board membership is recognition he should have had long ago.

‘Hi, Ole. Of course there’s plenty here. But today I’m just looking the place over. Learning a bit more before accepting the offer.’ He turns to Paul and smiles. ‘I’m pretty likely to say yes, you know!’

Ole seems to be at a loss, so Gunnar continues: ‘Sorry, the offer to join your board … to replace Frederik Thorsteinsson.’

Finally Ole speaks. ‘I see. Well, that’s good news.’ He leaves it at that.

There is a short pause in the conversation, and suddenly everyone who knows Ole realises that he had no idea about Paul’s offer to Gunnar. Ole doesn’t confront Paul, allowing him to retain some dignity. Instead he says that he must hurry off.

Maybe Gunnar guesses the truth as well. The joy is wiped from his face, but Paul keeps his cool. ‘That was good. Now you’ve had a chance to say hello to our chairman as well. This office is always busy — lots of unpredictable traffic.’ He leads the way back to his office. ‘But you will find that out soon enough, once you’ve got to know us all.’

The men leave. Silence falls in the Winter Garden. Anne-Lise desperately wants to phone Henrik but the open door makes it impossible. Sometimes she wishes she could simply close the damned thing again, so that she could be herself for a few moments. No doubt they’d all complain if she did.

She can’t concentrate on the Afghanistan reports. Instead she opens newly arrived boxes from the International Criminal Tribunal at The Hague and starts sorting the documents. She listens to the talk outside.

Iben is speaking: ‘Gunnar won’t have anything to do with the DCGI now. He won’t want to be mixed up in Paul’s games.’

Malene doesn’t seem to agree. ‘I think he’ll say yes to the board membership.’ After a brief pause, she adds an explanation: ‘I mean, they must be discussing it right now.’

‘He won’t do it!’

For once — maybe for the first time — Anne-Lise hears Iben becoming overwrought. She is becoming more and more shrill. Her voice has risen to a near-scream.

‘You can’t think that about him!’

Malene sounds different, controlled and rather patronising. ‘Iben, I don’t know how long he’s been waiting for a chance like this. You know he needs to get back in the running.’

‘But not at the expense of someone else, and in such an underhand way. He’s not like that!’

‘You have to take into account that Gunnar has lived in Africa, where corruption is the order of the day.’

‘So what? I’ve lived in Africa too.’

At this point they fall silent. This is their first open disagreement. It seems to have materialised out of nowhere. Maybe an outsider wouldn’t see how furious they are with each other, but for Anne-Lise their fight is a revelation. She’s gratified to see them finally direct their meanness at each other.

Somewhere in passing Malene manages to stick in a reference to her illness. Iben does not respond.

A little later, Malene’s enquiry is almost gentle. ‘You know so much about him? Must be magic. I mean, you only spoke to him once, right? At Sophie’s?’

Iben has regained control and now sounds self-assured. ‘We did have a very good talk that evening. Absolutely. Like Rasmus says, some of the best conversations are with people you meet only once.’

Malene deflates a little. ‘I see. Now you have to drag Rasmus into this.’

‘Why, shouldn’t I?’

After a few more minutes of this Iben decamps to the kitchen to cool down.

Anne-Lise stacks magazines on a shelf. She has a view of the Winter Garden from where she is standing.

Iben is back at her desk when at last the door to Paul’s office opens. Gunnar steps out, and he isn’t smiling. He walks quickly towards the front door and, as he opens it, turns round to face them all and politely says, ‘Goodbye.’

Had it not been for Anne-Lise’s feeling of exhaustion, his angry frown would have made her utterly delighted.

Soon after the front door slams behind Gunnar, Paul comes out of his office.

Iben asks him at once: ‘How did it go?’

‘Oh, not so good. Such fucking bad luck that Ole turned up just then.’ Paul looks irritated. ‘Well, anyway, let’s see how it pans out. Christ, all we’re trying to do is save this Centre. That’s all.’

He backs into his office and is about to close the door behind him. ‘I need to phone Ole.’

They all exchange looks. So apparently Paul isn’t feeling bad about anything nor worried about how Ole will react. What does that mean in terms of the Centre’s future?

Anne-Lise looks around the Winter Garden, taking in every familiar and tedious detail: the decorous orderliness of the Post-it notes on Camilla’s desk, the little plastic troll perched on Malene’s desk, the broken spring on Iben’s lamp.

In a few months everything might be different.

Ole can’t have answered his phone, because Paul joins them again a minute later. He is holding a croissant, presumably left over from Gunnar’s visit, and settles in the spare chair next to Malene’s desk.

‘Well, anyway, the show must go on. Listen to this. Yesterday I had lunch with a friend of mine. He is friendly with someone on the Conservative Party’s foreign-policy working committee. That’s how I know that in two months’ time everyone who’s anyone in Brussels will be debating the EU’s relationship with Turkey, especially in the light of Turkey’s repudiation of the Armenian genocide.’