Tore Renberg - See You Tomorrow

‘If we can sound as good tommorrow…’ Thea whispers.

‘We’ll sound as good,’ whispers Tiril.

‘I’m just, like, really nervous. Aren’t you?’

‘Why should I be?’

Tiril clicks on the mouse and leaves the live version of ‘Haunted’ from Rock Am Ring behind. She’s not so into that one, nor does she care much for Amy’s shorts, hair or eye make-up in it. She likes her better when she’s Gothic and exalted, like in the video for ‘Call Me When You’re Sober’ for instance.

‘We’ll sound better, Thea,’ she says. ‘We’ll sound even better.’

Text message. She leans towards the desk, looks at the mobile. From Malene.

R u @ T’s? Can we come over. Pls. Sandra and me.

‘Who is it?’

Tiril shows the message to Thea.

Thea taps her chin with her middle finger, like she always does when she’s unsure. ‘What’s happened?’

Tiril gets to her feet, like she always does when her heart begins to tick. ‘Dunno.’ She texts back: Just come. We’re here.

A few minutes later the doorbell rings and Thea, with Tiril right behind, hurries down the stairs to answer it, calling out to her parents that it’s for her. As they’d suspected, they open the door to the sight of two girls in crisis mode. Malene leads a clearly shattered Sandra over the threshold and they steer her up to the bedroom: ‘Just Sandra and Malene!’ Thea calls out in the direction of the living room.

‘Great!’

That’s the thing with Thea’s father, thinks Tiril, as she hears his voice ring out. Everything’s great as far he’s concerned, and if it’s not great then he insists on it being great.

Once they’re in Thea’s room, Sandra collapses on to the red beanbag on the floor. The other three stand in front of her.

Tiril looks at Malene: ‘What’s going on?’

‘We’re not quite sure, but it’s Daniel, in any case.’

Tiril can see Thea swallow, like most girls do when his name is mentioned. But Tiril doesn’t have any need to swallow. ‘What is it he’s done, then?’ she asks.

‘We were in town,’ Malene does the talking, Sandra slumps unhappily in the beanbag, her make-up running down her face, ‘because it was all a bit too much for Sandra today, so I met her there, at McDonald’s—’

‘McDonald’s,’ Tiril rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, ‘have you started going there as well now—’

‘Can you just drop the environmental shit today?’

‘Okay—’

‘Anyway, we’re sitting there and Sandra’s trying to get a grip on things and suchlike and that’s when we see them—’

‘Who?’

‘Them…’

‘Who?’

‘Daniel and—’

‘Daniel?’

‘Daniel and Veronika.’

‘Veronika?’ Thea takes a step forward. ‘The foster sister?’

Malene nods. ‘But that’s not all, because when she turns round—’

‘Turns round?’

‘Yeah, we were sitting inside and they were outside—’

‘With their arms around one another,’ comes a sobbing voice from the beanbag.

‘They had their arms round one another?!’

‘Yeah, they did, but anyway—’

‘Like — I mean, they were wrapped around each other—’

‘Yeah, but anyway, when she turned around her face was all … all…’

‘She’d cut herself up,’ says the voice from the beanbag. ‘Out of love.’

They all turn to Sandra.

‘How…’ Malene crouches down beside her. ‘How do you know that?’

Sandra makes a fist, thumps it against her chest and with a sobbing voice says: ‘I understand everything now.’

The girls sit down in a ring around the beanbag. They tend to Sandra. They run their hands over her hair, fix her fringe, straighten her necklace so the crucifix rests in the hollow of her throat, stroke her gently on her forearms. They speak to her softly. They let her relate. They listen. They let her tell them how fantastic these past weeks have been, about his bright, electric mouth, about how he’s given her his heart and she’s given hers in return, about how she felt that life has been filled with a colossal love — I haven’t needed sleep, I haven’t needed to eat, all I’ve needed was him! They nod and they listen as she fills them in on the last twenty-four hours, how everything has twisted, how everything has become harsh and ugly and how fear has been hammering at her door.

Tiril gets to her feet. She paces the floor in thought. She feels she’s the one who needs to assume responsibility. They need to be at rehearsals very soon. Sandra needs to pull herself together. Tiril halts in front of the beanbag and makes eye contact with Sandra.

‘You need to go see him. You need to tell him what you think and what you’ve seen. You need to take the fight to him. And to her. Veronika.’

Sandra sniffles, wipes her nose with the back of her hand.

Malene nods.

Thea nods too.

‘You’re going to send him a text,’ Tiril says.

Sandra shuts her eyes, shakes her head quickly from side to side. ‘No, I won’t…’

Tiril raises her voice a notch: ‘You’re going to send him a text, do you hear me?’

‘But, I…’

‘Gimme your phone.’ Tiril puts her hand out.

‘No, Tiril, I…’

‘I said, gimme your phone.’

Sandra reluctantly hands her the mobile.

Tiril begins to type:

Daniel, you are a coward. It’s time you showed me who you are. Who it is you want. I’ll wait for you…

‘Where do the two of you usually meet?’

‘Mm, by the electricity substation—’

…by the substation. This is your last chance. Sandra.

Tiril presses send. She tosses the mobile back into Sandra’s lap and walks towards the window. She stands there with her back to them. She can feel their eyes on her.

‘By the way,’ she says, without turning around, ‘Bunny’s big brother was here. Y’know, Kenny. He nailed a cat to the tree. Put the nail right through the cat’s eye. He was trying to put us in our place. He failed. Look. It’s beginning to get dark.

Dark clothes, of course. No need to attract attention. Casual attire, obviously. Just a couple of blokes taking the bus. Just two guys doing their bit for the environment.

Rudi and Jan Inge have changed, they’ve followed the timetable Ulrike from Hannover gave them, taken the bus into town and hopped on a number 7 by Breiavannet at 21:15. But Rudi’s not in good humour. The cheerful mood he’d been in after beating up Hansi evaporated after dinnertime. They’d listened to Motörhead and then settled down to watch Driller Killer while they digested their food, but Rudi couldn’t get into it. He twisted and turned in his seat and talked about what a deprivation of liberty it was being packed on to a bloody bus. And Rudi in bad humour is a pain. But what is a leader going to do about it? When the employees are in a bad mood?

Jan Inge sometimes feels this is his lot in life. Cecilie is in rotten humour so often that he’s firefighting day in, day out. And she hasn’t been the only one. He’s had many grumpy people in the organisation over the years. At times he’s felt like he’s been running a kennel for sick dogs. It’s a common flaw amongst so many of the criminal element, such a large number of them are angry and obstinate. They lack stability in their lives. Positive surroundings.

And what can you do about that? What, for example, would my kindred spirit David Toska do about it? What sort of steps would a big shot like Toska take in order to reinvigorate and reenergise tired troops? Would a seminar be a good idea, the kind of thing where you rent a place and book some speakers, possibly out at Sola Strand Hotel or in the basement of Atlantic Hotel, have some food on the table, get in a motivational speaker, maybe a Pia Tjelta or a Kristian Valen, or a guy with a guitar? Tjødaen, he played in that band before, what were they called … Hundvåg Racers? And Dabben, that boy can talk, more than one person’s remarked on that, and if only he wasn’t so ill-suited for ordinary working life he could have been a stand-up comedian or a politician. Might be an idea. Rent out part of Sola Strand Hotel. Get Dabben in to tell a few jokes and pep up the team. Have Tjødaen play a few songs. A Cash number for Jani, something by Aerosmith for Cecilie and a Metallica ballad for Rudi.