‘No, I did not.’
‘When you were ill, I spoke to him. I dealt with his question and then after you came back, he phoned again and asked Camilla to put him through to me. It was about some books he was interested in. And then I heard you reprimand Camilla. You said she mustn’t do that again.’
‘Anne-Lise, maybe you should go home. You’re not well. It’s like some kind of breakdown. What you’re saying simply isn’t true.’
Anne-Lise’s skin feels damp all over. She turns to Camilla. ‘Camilla, didn’t Malene tell you off for putting Stephan Colwitz through to me?’
Camilla has been on the edge of her chair all this time. Now she leaps up and lashes out at Anne-Lise. ‘You can’t turn this place upside down just to suit you. It isn’t your office. You have to consider the rest of us as well.’
‘But Malene has told you that you mustn’t transfer people to me when they ask for the librarian, hasn’t she?’
Camilla looks at Malene. ‘I can’t take any more of this. I’ve had enough.’
Malene almost throws herself off her chair and walks away. In the doorway, she stops, turns to Anne-Lise and sneers: ‘I could reel off hundreds of examples when we’ve paid particular attention to what you wanted. You couldn’t have found a place where your colleagues treated you better; it simply doesn’t exist! When I think of all the time I spent explaining your tasks to you and the research problems and—’
‘But they weren’t part of my training! Why do you always give me jobs that you know I haven’t been trained for? It took me four years to become a qualified librarian. Can’t you just let me get on and do what I’m supposed to do?’
Iben cuts in: ‘Many people are only too pleased to have a variety of tasks at work.’
‘But … I’m knowledgeable about books. Here, all I’m doing is filing, as if I were a secretary.’
Malene makes a point of glancing apologetically at Camilla before turning to Anne-Lise. ‘That wasn’t a very clever thing to say.’
Iben backs her up. ‘Secretaries are important too.’
‘I know. Why do you keep telling me?’
‘Because you said …’
‘But … you knew what I meant …’
Suddenly Camilla runs off. She has heard the phone ring.
The others follow her more slowly. Halfway out of the room they pause, as if to add something. But they don’t.
Anne-Lise sits still, breathing heavily, her arms resting on the table. She looks at her arms and blinks several times. This lunch break will come back to haunt her. Everything. Her shaking – they will use that against her as well.
Malene
10
Malene remembers the times when she was little and came running home after playing with one of her friends. She would rush straight into the sitting room where her mother, Jytte, would be seated. Her mother’s friend, Susan, would be there too, always in the same place on their plush brown-velvet sofa. Her mum would tell Malene to go off and play somewhere else, upstairs or in the garden. Malene remembers glimpsing her mother’s wet cheeks as she would stare past her friend.
When Malene mentioned this years later, her mother explained that to protect her daughter she would normally cry about her work in the bathroom or in the bedroom. She only wept in the sitting room when Susan was there.
Malene’s mother was a secretary in a large accounting firm and her father was an insurance man. Both of them worked in Kolding. Malene was the only one in the family to go to university.
Her mother had been with the firm for about ten years when the office came under a new administrative head. Malene’s mother had been responsible for staff schedules, but he took that away from her. He allocated lower-grade secretarial work to her, and managed to find fault with everything she did.
After a few weeks the boss started to tell jokes at her expense, even when she was present. He also made it clear that people who didn’t laugh along irritated him, hinting that soon one of them would become the butt of his jokes.
Gradually people became anxious when she was around. They began to avoid eye contact with her, and her very presence in the office seemed to create tension and make the whole atmosphere unpleasant. Not long after that, several people took her to task, regardless of whether the boss was there or not.
Then came the news that the boss had been promoted. He had moved to another branch office. Once more, Malene’s mother wept, but this time with joy. There were celebrations at home and Malene’s father opened a bottle of port that had been in a cupboard since the previous Christmas.
Jytte’s life, however, did not change. Everyone still felt awkward the moment she came through the door. They all hoped that she would leave quietly and find another job. It soon became clear to her, and to others as well, that she had lost her old easy manner.
Her doctor referred her to a psychologist, but she never worked again. Young Malene felt dreadfully ashamed when her mother spoke self-pityingly about it in public, even in front of people she barely knew.
‘At my old job, they used to behave as if they wanted me dead. How can people behave like that?’
Camilla is sitting at her desk. Iben and Malene are standing close together so that they can’t be overheard in the library. The lunch break is over. None of them had expected to be attacked by Anne-Lise in the middle of such a stressful situation.
Malene plays with Camilla’s stapler, snapping out flattened, useless staples. ‘It’s fair, isn’t it, that I show more affection towards my best friend than towards a colleague? Isn’t that the point of having a close friend? What does she expect?’
Iben strokes Malene’s arm comfortingly.
‘Instead of offering us something we can base a friendship on, she simply demands favours. It’s so immature, like a spoilt child.’
Malene keeps glancing back and forth between Iben and Camilla. Both appear as worn out as she feels. She can hear how tired her voice sounds. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met a person who’s so incapable of giving a little of herself.’
‘It’s typical of her attitude. It’s like this thing she has about not working in the library. I mean, is she a trained librarian, or isn’t she? What did she think she was supposed to be doing here? Doesn’t she want to work with books and have her desk where the books are?’
Malene sighs. She sweeps up the flattened staples and throws them into Camilla’s wastepaper basket. ‘Anne-Lise simply has no idea what it’s like when your colleagues are really out to get you. That much is obvious.’
Malene tells Camilla a little of what happened to her mother. ‘You see, that’s why I find Anne-Lise so especially hard to take. She has accidentally hit on something that really hurts me.’
Iben interrupts her. ‘But, Malene, it’s not because you’re more vulnerable than most. Anyone would be upset to have to listen to that kind of thing.’
‘Yes, you’re right.’
‘And it’s even more infuriating, when it comes from someone we’ve all struggled to keep happy.’
The door to the corridor opens. Anne-Lise announces that she is going home. She has a headache. Malene is so annoyed with her that she can’t even make herself look up. No one speaks.
Then Malene decides to say something. ‘Get better soon.’
From the landing they hear the faint whining noise as the lift goes down. Iben begins to pick her words slowly.
‘Now we know … why she always comes across as devious. And why all of us have found it difficult to get along with her. It’s because, in her warped view, we’re nothing but a band of bloody bullies who want to bring her down.’
‘It’s unbelievable. How long do you think she has hated us beneath all those smiles, always pretending everything’s fine?’
Camilla looks up at the others. ‘How did she keep it up? – lying to us every single day? I can’t imagine being that insincere, month in and month out.’
Suddenly Iben sounds more collected and serious. ‘But maybe that’s exactly
what she didn’t do.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Maybe she couldn’t stand lying to us for ever. Maybe she has been burning up inside and felt she had to find an outlet.’
The other two are silent.
‘An outlet, for instance by sending us emails?’ Iben suggests.
The others see her point at once.
‘If Anne-Lise sent the emails last night, she might have felt guilty today. To deal with that, one obvious strategy would be to prove to herself that we’re all nasty – worse than her. Which could explain why she lost control just now at lunch.’
Camilla adds a thought. ‘She didn’t seem the slightest bit nervous this morning when she heard about the emails for the first time.’
The idea makes sense to Malene too. ‘It’s obvious that she hates Iben and me the most. It would also explain why Paul hasn’t had one.’
Of course, it’s only hypothetical. Still, it doesn’t have to be Mirko Zigic or some other mass murderer who sent the emails.
Malene realises that she isn’t furious with Anne-Lise, although she ought to be. The others feel the same way – she can see it in their faces. More than anything, they are relieved. Iben doesn’t have to crash in Grith’s flat again tonight. Malene won’t find it as difficult to fall asleep as she did the night before. A confrontation with a trained killer – now that would be a life-or-death matter. But an office conflict – that can be sorted out.
The front door opens. The doorway frames a man with a muscular neck, wearing a safari jacket. The women freeze. But then they realise he’s not threatening them.
Malene smiles. ‘Hello! How did you get past the police downstairs?’
‘Police? What police?’
‘Didn’t two guards stop you in the downstairs lobby?’
‘No one stopped me. I came here because your website shows that you’ve got Ben Kiernan’s book about Cambodia, The Pol Pot Regime. I’d like to borrow it, if possible. And I’d be grateful if you could recommend more reading about the Cambodian genocide.’
They look at each other.
He explains: ‘I need it for senior-year teaching.’
Another moment of silence.
‘So, if you have any introductory teaching material I’d like to have a look at that as well.’
The Centre’s users mustn’t be worried by internal problems. Malene walks towards the visitor.
‘Please come in. Let’s see what we can find. We have a great deal on your subject. You know about the book by Marcher and Frederiksen, don’t you?’
‘Yes. Do you have it?’
‘Of course. And we have quite a few files of unpublished teaching material. I’ve read it all and it’s very good. Let’s go to the library and have a look around.’
Malene is ready to lead the way.
Iben gets up. ‘I think I’d better go downstairs and find out what’s happened.’
The teacher is curious and well read. Malene speaks about Cambodia, trying to sound relaxed. She tells him about the lectures that DCGI staff offer free of charge. She could come to his school.
While they talk, her mind strays. She tries to understand Anne-Lise, but can’t recall ever having been hard on her. On the contrary, she has always been friendly and professional. Surely? They have always told Anne-Lise when they are taking a break, even though she can be such a wet blanket. Everyone has tried to be pleasant to her, but, after all, other people should have a good time too. And there’s work to be done.
She goes on to speak about a recent DCGI seminar on Cambodia with Chandra Lor as the lead speaker. Lor, a genocide survivor, was the first head of the Tuol Sleng genocide museum in Phnom Penh. His story is miraculous. In the 1970s, government troops and guerrilla forces killed almost 3.3 million of the country’s 7.1 million population. The Pol Pot regime exterminated practically everybody who either had a family relationship with the previous government or, simply, an education. Chandra Lor was the son of a deposed senator and a university student. The video of the seminar shows Lor speaking about his daily fight to escape death. The teacher could show it to his pupils.
Malene hears Iben return, and excuses herself for a moment.
Iben confirms that there are no policemen at the door. She intends to call the number the two officers gave them and ask what’s going on.
Malene goes back to the teacher. They start chatting about Western European communism. In the 1950s, Pol Pot and some of the top men in his government were students in Paris and their views were strongly influenced by the French Communist Party. Should the French communists accept a share of the guilt for the Cambodian tragedy? She pulls out a book of photographs from the Tuol Sleng Museum collection. The building was once a notorious prison. The photos show the primitive instruments of torture and the prison cells. Many of the cells were windowless and so small that the prisoners could neither lie down nor stand.
Iben interrupts them, apologising to the teacher. ‘I’ve spoken to the woman who’s in charge of the investigation and her attitude is totally different. She said that “the evidence pointing to Zigic is absurdly vague and, as it is, the police have spent far too much time over two emails”. She is in charge of the case now, but she won’t allocate any more time to it.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Well, of course I tried to argue that our safety should be paramount and because of our work we’re a special case, but I got nowhere. She wouldn’t even listen.’
Maybe Iben wasn’t all that persuasive. How can you convince someone that you are in mortal danger, if you actually feel enormously relieved because you’re pretty certain that a timid librarian sent the emails?
The idea that the emails might be harmless is not disputed by the phone calls they receive from helpful colleagues abroad during the afternoon. The war criminals they suggest only add to their already unmanageably long list.
After the tense, anxious morning, not even a call from Lotta in Sweden about Zigic seems important. There are rumours that Zigic has gone underground somewhere inside the Scandinavian Customs Union, possibly in Sweden.
11
If Anne-Lise sent the emails she obviously must be emotionally disturbed, perhaps even borderline psychotic. If so, she has so far been able to hide her state of mind from her colleagues.
That is why Iben thought Malene should come along with her to see her friend Grith, the clinical psychologist. Malene is mildly sceptical, but she has only met Grith a few times and hasn’t a clue what insight she might provide. Besides, Malene does agree that it’s sensible to get a professional evaluation of Anne-Lise’s behaviour.
Grith is a tall, thin woman with large, slightly droopy breasts. She has the kind of body that’s supposed to drive men wild. Watching her, Malene thinks that Grith’s erotic pull is surely limited to when she sits down or stands still. When her long limbs are moving she looks like an awkward fourteen-year-old. The suspicion that she is likely to fall over any minute makes Malene, for one, feel rather nervous.
Grith practises her clinical skills at the Copenhagen National Hospital. They sit on the large, square cushions of Grith’s grey sofa.
‘The first thing to do is to make the client’s experience your starting point. The idea is always to support whatever the client believes. It is his or her reality, after all, regardless of how the rest of the world sees it. Clients often feel insecure, so we don’t move on until we’ve understood how they perceive what has happened.’
She leans forward from her seat on the sofa. It strikes Malene that there’s something unfeminine about her, despite her large, dark eyes.
Grith turns to Malene. ‘Anyway, why don’t you tell me about your problem?’
‘I don’t have one! We’re here because one of our colleagues has a problem.’
‘OK. How do you see her problem?’
‘But, look, even before we sat down we told you …’
Malene stops and starts again, trying to echo the slightly learned tone that Grith and I
ben seem to adopt when they’re together.
‘Anne-Lise gives me the impression of being terribly angry. She might have sent us threatening emails.’
Malene pauses to pick a piece of dried mango from a bowl of Tropical Mix. ‘Iben, you’ve got to help me with this.’
‘Grith, I told you.’
‘Sure, but I need to get a sense of the situation. Try to describe why this woman is feeling so angry.’
Malene won’t say anything. Instead she catches Grith’s eye and then Iben’s.
It doesn’t take long before Iben speaks up. ‘Anne-Lise believes that being colleagues means being friends. And because we don’t treat her as a close friend, she has jumped to the conclusion that we are all bad people and that we’re bullying her.’
‘You’re giving me the view from the outside. Can’t you—?’
Iben won’t let Grith interrupt her and runs on: ‘Being viewed in this way is incredibly unpleasant for all of us. Her hostility is palpable … even if she never sent the emails.’
‘Iben, let’s stay with her perception of being shut out from a community. Now that’s a very unpleasant feeling too.’
‘We can’t think how to make her understand that we’re just following the ordinary rules of the workplace, and that no one is persecuting her or anything.’
‘Iben, remember that feeling excluded is awful. Being cast as the outsider would make anyone angry.’
‘Sure, but—’
‘What if we choose to believe her perception? Some part of her story is probably true. When does she feel angry, do you think? Any particular time, or times?’
‘She might’ve been angry last night, when the emails were sent. But listen, no one is trying to exclude her.’
Grith’s voice, always calm, grows even slower and deeper. ‘Hold on, let’s stay with her for a while. Last night, you said. Did anything special take place in the office yesterday?’
‘We had quite a nice day together. Chatted a great deal. I remember talking about that journalist, the woman who wouldn’t stop asking me about how we were fed in Africa. Later in the afternoon we listened to Chris and the Chocolate Factory.’ She looks at Malene. ‘It was fun, wasn’t it?’
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