Free Murder of Halland by Pia Juul Page B

handed invisible drinks, they raised their invisible glasses and looked like they were drunk. ‘Now you’re at a sex show!’ said the hypnotist’s metallic voice. ‘What do you see, Hans Henrik?’ Hans Henrik was a tall, skinny boy in my class who never said a word. The audience held its breath.
    ‘It’s disgusting!’ he shouted in a strange, deep voice. The audience laughed.
    I didn’t want to reveal myself. The ambiguity of the situation frightened me. In Halland’s eyes I saw how much I resembled Hans Henrik. The incident didn’t appear funny any more. Halland wouldn’t be amused in the right way; the anecdote could reveal insights about me I hadn’t even considered. So this was another story I didn’t tell him.
    In the night, I screamed, ‘You’re touching me!’
    ‘Where? Where?’ he whispered. But whatever was happening had stopped and there was nothing more to say.

22
    It is told that the mother bewailed the boy’s reluctance to drink aquavit, despite her adding sugar. In his adult years, however, he caused his mother little concern in that respect .
     
    H.P. Hansen, GYPSIES AND TINKERS
    I took my bike. How did I look? At least I had a bath and put my hair up as best I could. Two long earrings dangled in unison as I pedalled. The air was warm and still. I sang softly to myself: ‘ Blest comfort too holds the peaceful night, when skies in the sunset glow .’ The rape fields smelt sweet. I had drunk another aquavit before leaving the house. Two, in fact. I felt like continuing to sing, but then just spoke: ‘Brandt! Halland! Brandt! Halland ! Where are you? Where are you? What’s going on? What’s happening?’ I liked to repeat myself. Besides, I wasn’t listening to the words. I liked the rhythm. I liked the drink talking. I was worried yet happy. At least, I felt as though I were happy. But that couldn’t be true. Someone had bought the Pavilion. Why had we not heard about it? Did Halland know? We had not visited the Pavilion for a while. Two years, perhaps. Last time we took a picnic and sat on the stone bench in the overgrowngarden. Now he was with me again, the dear man. The cheat, the traitor. We were entering the woods. The beech trees sported their new leaves. The sun went down and I only wobbled a bit. I could hear the music long before I arrived. Getting off my bike, I walked the rest of the way in order to savour the moment. My steps slowed. I passed a couple of laughing, tipsy youngsters who didn’t appear to notice me.
    As I stepped into the dim light, I recognized some faces. They all looked the other way. Only one brightened on seeing me. Lasse had apparently forgotten that we weren’t going to speak to each other. As he started to walk towards me, a girl pulled him back, wanting to dance. A flat-chested young woman at the bar looked me in the eye as though she were about to say something , but she said nothing. When I pointed, she pulled me a beer.
    Brandt’s lodger stood in the corner furthest from the dance floor and talked to a blonde with hair down past her waist. She seemed a fun person. He laughed so heartily that I felt sure I could hear him above the music. Turning away, I sensed him. The feeling reminded me of being a teenager. I pretended not to be bothered. I was a grown-up now. His dark hair, narrow hips and angular jaw contradicted any strict notions of beauty and lent him an original air, the kind of thing that had attracted me since childhood. Not everyone had that look. Halland hadn’t, neither did Troels. Here I was, standing with my back to him, knowing where he was in the room, certain that I would always know. Gulpingdown my beer, I asked for another and a Fernet Branca to go with it. The music was OK and I wanted to dance. The lodger and the blonde had stopped talking; she was on the dance floor now, smiling at me. I began to move towards her, but was stopped by a hand on my shoulder. I didn’t recognize him at first. ‘I owe you an apology!’ he