Tore Renberg - See You Tomorrow

‘Ludvigsen?’ he hears Jan Inge say. ‘You don’t have any other exits on this floor, do you? A veranda or something?’

‘Oh, yes,’ replies the little woman. ‘There’s one back here…’

‘Detachable feet,’ Rudi mumbles, bending down to the piano. ‘Heavy as hell. Still. We’ll manage it.’ He turns to the old woman and speaking slightly louder in a friendly tone asks: ‘Is it old?’

Tong stands stiff and straight by the door.

‘Oh heavens, yes,’ the woman says, ‘it’s so old now. I inherited it from my grandfather — it’s a Steinway, as you can see…’

‘A Steinway,’ nods Jan Inge. ‘No, they’re not exactly giving them away.’

The woman laughs, her face lighting up.

‘Apparently I could get half a million for it if I sold it.’

Over by the door, Tong shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Cecilie gulps. Jan Inge clears his throat. Rudi doesn’t know where to look.

‘But I’d never sell it, not for all the money in the world, no, what would I do with that kind of money? I can hardly spend what I have as it is.’

Tong shifts his weight again. Cecilie sweeps her tongue over her front teeth and Jan Inge fumbles for his inhaler, which he locates in the trouser pocket of his overalls. Rudi’s gaze flits around the room.

‘Asthma,’ says Jan Inge.

‘No, I’m going to give it to my daughter,’ says the woman, then lowers her voice a notch, ‘I’ve discovered I can pass it on to her as an advance on inheritance, and that’s probably just as well,’ before lowering her voice even more, drawing closer to them, almost gathering them in a ring, ‘it’s my grandchildren, you see,’ she says.

‘What about them?’ Rudi asks, when the woman doesn’t appear to intend finishing her sentence and lapses into thoughtful silence. She moves even closer.

‘They’re drug addicts,’ she says. ‘Apparently they steal from everyone. That’s what happens with drug addicts,’ she adds. ‘They lose the run of themselves, stop being the people they once were, and so it could well come to pass, my daughter tells me, that they end up trying to rob their own grandmother.’

Rudi can see Tong’s arms twitching. His veins are visible, as are his muscles.

‘Imagine,’ the old woman says. ‘Their own grandmother. Jørgen and Svein Anders. I just don’t understand it.’

Rudi can hear Tong breathing now.

‘Well,’ Rudi says loudly, ‘we need to go out to the van to fetch some equipment, the Haraldsen siblings here will remove the legs and go through the practical details with you, and hey presto, this expensive Steinway piano will be on its way to your daughter’s house and out of the clutches of those monsters you have as grandchildren!’

Rudi seizes Tong by the arm and hisses: ‘Come on!’

He halts on the steps outside and throws Tong up against the wall: ‘What the fuck is wrong with you? Were you planning on flattening the old biddy and taking her piano? Hm? What the fuck is your problem! Here we are, after picking you up — or Cecilie did — and laying on chocolate chip cookies and beer and good humour, and what do you bring? Have you ever heard of manners, for Chrisssake?’

Cecilie and Jan Inge emerge from the house behind them, both looking anxious, shutting the front door quickly behind them.

‘What’s going on,’ Jan Inge whispers. ‘What the hell are you two up to?’

Rudi feels the pulse in his throat throb and releases Tong.

‘I’ve had enough of this bloody Korean simpleton. He was all ready to bash in grandma’s brains there. And has he said anything all day? Hm? This has gone too far!’

Jan Inge studies Tong, who’s standing completely still. Cecilie looks at him too.

‘You need to say something, Tong,’ says Jan Inge. ‘Rudi has overstepped the mark, I know, but he does have … well, a point.’

Tong makes some movements with his lower jaw, opens his mouth and spits in the direction of an elderberry bush beside the driveway.

‘What’s the deal?’

‘Ehh … I don’t quite follow you now,’ Jan Inge says.

‘Tonight. What’s the deal.’

‘With Pål, you mean. Simple enough job. Smash up the house, give the guy a few bruises. Take what we find.’

‘Alibi?’

‘God, what is with everyone today?’ Jan Inge shakes his head. ‘Of course. I have an address in Sandal. We drive the van there. We’re at work from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m. We’re moving the contents of one terraced house to another. Witnesses all arranged. Watertight.’

‘And the deal?’

‘I told you, Tong. Smash up the house. Alter the guy. Take what we find. What are you getting at?’

Tong closes his eyes. ‘That’s the deal?’

Rudi is livid. ‘Yeah, that’s the deal, but first Tampon is going to pay us a visit!’

Jan Inge looks at him resignedly. Cecilie’s eyes grow larger. Rudi throws his arms up. He just couldn’t contain himself.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘We ran into him yesterday. He said he was going to drop by.’

Tong shakes his head slowly.

‘This is unbelievable. You’ve got Tampon on your back? And you’re still going ahead with it? And the insurance money? That is so incredibly lame. You haven’t demanded a cut of the money. You waltz straight into a house with a piano worth half a million inside while Tommy Pogo is hiding behind the bushes watching us. This is my last day with you lot. I can’t stand you, Rudi, or you, Jan Inge. You’re just … you’re nothing to me. Understand? I’ll go along tonight, but only if you agree to us taking half of the insurance sum. After I’ve taken my cut we’ll never see each other again.’

Tong turns to Cecilie.

‘And you?’

He shakes his head.

‘Jesus,’ he says. ‘You are the fucking ugliest woman I’ve ever seen.’

Rudi’s fists begin to clench, his teeth begin to tap, but as he’s about to head-butt Tong the front door opens. The old lady’s head appears.

‘Ah,’ she says, ‘I was almost beginning to think you’d left. It was so quiet. Look, I’ve defrosted a little apple pie.’

She holds out a tray with some slices on it.

‘Yes,’ she says, ‘and elderflower cordial. You must try some. All that hard work you do. My grandchildren used to like it so much, Granny’s elderflower cordial.’

Veronika strokes him across the wrist. His veins are swollen, as though lying ashamed beneath his skin. Daniel withdraws from her caress. He puts a cigarette between his lips and lights it up. He leans towards the teak coffee table and takes hold of his helmet. He fiddles with the strap. She reaches for his hands, grips them tightly and kisses him. She tastes of seaweed, of icing sugar and iron and he can’t stand it.

Daniel tears himself free and gets to his feet.

‘What is it?’ asks Veronika.

He can’t bring himself to answer. His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to talk any more. He just wants to strike out. He opens the door to the concrete corridor and the light from the rehearsal room floods out to where the moped is standing. The Suzuki gleams. Daniel walks over to it, runs his fingers along it.

Why must it be this way?

Why must everything go down?

Why must everything go under?

‘Daniel?’

He’s a matter of seconds from whirling around and going for her, seconds from sinking his teeth into her throat and biting down until she loses her deaf life. But he doesn’t. He remains standing looking at the Suzuki.

He can tell by her footsteps that she’s coming closer. She really shouldn’t, he thinks.

Veronika pokes him on the shoulder.

He doesn’t look around, but she continues jabbing him.