‘Aren’t you well?’ asks Linda, winding a towel like a turban round her head.
‘Don’t worry. It’ll pass,’ her mum groans. ‘How are you feeling, darling?’
‘I’m fine. Shall I boil some eggs?’ asks Linda.
‘Yes . . . do.’
Her mother retches.
‘But just for you and Dad. I don’t want any,’ she says, waving her hand behind her.
Linda takes the hint and goes out into the kitchen, closing the door after her. She’s seen it all before, her mother throwing up, the nervous but hopeful glances between her parents. Glances that say: will there be a baby this time? A little brother or sister for Linda? Another little one to love? But it’s gone wrong each time. Her mother has lost two babies. The last a couple of years ago. Linda gets a lump in her stomach just thinking about it. It was in the summer, and they were at the cottage down in the south of Norway. She and Axel had borrowed a boat, without permission, and crashed it on some rocks, so it got a hole in the bottom. Everything turned out okay, they’d been rescued by some local fishermen, but they’d got a terrible telling-off. And that night, it happened. Her mother had started bleeding and her parents rushed to the hospital. They’d stopped talking about having more children after that.
Is that why they haven’t said anything, Linda wonders, as she boils the eggs and puts on the coffee. Surely her parents can’t believe she hasn’t guessed? When she was little, Linda longed for a little brother or sister. But now . . . does she still? A screaming baby for whom she’ll be expected to babysit and change nappies? What is she going to say to all her friends when her mum starts getting big? After all, her parents are getting on a bit; they’re well over forty.
The eggs are ready. Looking in the saucepan she realizes she’s boiled three after all. She sighs, rinses them under cold water and puts them in the eggcups on the table. While she’s waiting for her parents to come to breakfast, she makes packed lunches for all three of them. It’s never a bad idea to make an extra effort when it’s your birthday soon – or if your mother is pregnant again.
‘So you made eggs for everyone, after all?’ says her mother, coming in from the bathroom. She’s dressed now and has put her make-up on, but she still looks rather pale.
‘Sorry, I did it without thinking. But there is bread, ham and jam also, if you prefer that.’
‘That’s okay. I’m feeling better now, so I’ll try to eat a bit,’ she says, ruffling Linda’s hair as she takes off her turban. ‘Shall I comb your hair for you afterwards?’
‘I can manage, thanks. Are you ill or something, Mum?’
‘For wanting to comb your hair?’
‘No. You were being sick.’
‘Oh, that . . . that’s nothing to worry about. It’s probably something I ate.’
Her mum folds the towel and puts it on the edge of the kitchen bench. Linda follows her movements, but doesn’t ask if she’s pregnant. She’ll have to wait to be told.
‘Erik!’ her mother calls out. ‘Are you finished in the bathroom? Linda’s made breakfast.’
Linda’s father comes out of the bathroom, hair wet and lips pursed ready to plant a kiss on her mother’s cheek.
‘Good morning, Mrs Larsen!’ he says, laughing. ‘Aren’t we lucky to have such a grown-up daughter?’
‘Oh, pur-lease!’ says Linda, rolling her eyes.
‘Oh, pur-lease!’ imitates Linda’s father, laughing. He pulls her over and gives her a hug. ‘Now, let’s eat.’
The extra time they’d gained by Linda getting up early and making breakfast is soon lost to eating their eggs. Her father looks at the clock and starts putting the milk and juice back in the fridge.
‘Are you two coming to the diving competition tomorrow?’ asks Linda, putting the packed lunch she’s made into her bag.
‘Are you sure you’re well enough? You seemed so poorly yesterday,’ says her mother.
‘You’re the one who’s throwing up,’ says Linda, getting annoyed by her mother’s anxiety.
‘We’ll be there, alright. We want to see you win the whole caboodle!’ her father interrupts with a grin.
This is an obvious attempt to stop any argument – or discussion. They never argue in this family, they discuss things. But today Dad doesn’t want to do either. He collects the rest of the food on the table to put it back into the fridge, still with that ridiculous smile on his lips. Linda gets the urge to say something spiteful, but contents herself with being grouchy.
‘Hmm, so you’re thinking I’ll win, eh?’ she says, heading for the bathroom to brush her teeth.
‘It’s bound to be your turn some day!’ says her mother, smiling. She hasn’t touched her egg or even her coffee.
‘That’s not how it works. To win, you have to be the best,’ says Linda.
‘Hey! Look! We’ve got a visitor on the bridge.’
Dad takes Linda’s arm and pulls her gently over to the window that overlooks the backyard. It’s the cat from yesterday. Big and black, just sitting there and staring up at the window.
‘Perhaps it’s hoping to get a little titbit?’ says her mother, who has joined them at the window.
‘We’ll never get rid of it then,’ says Linda’s father.
‘I saw that cat yesterday too. It was in the outhouse when I went to get the logs.’
‘How did it get in there?’ her father says, surprised.
‘Oh, you know what cats are like,’ says her mother. ‘It can have the rest of my sandwich.’
‘Oh, Ellen, do you really want a cat hanging around just now?’
‘A little slice of bread is not going to do any harm. And it probably belongs to someone else anyway. It’s only visiting us.’
Linda’s mother leans forward to open the window. The cat instantly gets up, and arches its back.
‘Nice pussycat. Do you want some bread?’
The cat hisses back. Then just as it had the evening before, it walks down the steps into the backyard and stops to wee on the corner, before disappearing over the neighbour’s fence.
‘Seems like you’ll have to eat your breakfast yourself,’ says Linda’s father, laughing and closing the window. ‘Brrr, it’s cold. Isn’t spring ever going to come?’
‘February isn’t exactly spring,’ her mother replies.
‘Where I come from, spring begins in February,’ he says.
‘You’re over-romanticizing. And you should be used to Trondheim seasons by now. And we’re not going down to the south coast this Easter, Erik. We’re going up to the cabin in the mountains.’
‘When will you understand that Easter is the time for boat-mending and bonfires by the fjord?’
‘And when will you realize that all good Norwegians go skiing at Easter?’
‘Not us from the South.’
‘Oh, yes. Even you from the South. Think of all those people from the South who have won Olympic medals for skiing.’
‘But I want to go to the South too,’ says Linda.
‘We agreed to go every other year. Now, off you go and brush your teeth,’ says her mother.
Linda goes obediently into the bathroom. She squeezes a generous dollop of toothpaste onto her brush. She looks over at the shower. A warm tummy, burning cheeks. She brings her hand up to her face and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. Slowly and gently, just like Axel did in the summer. His breath felt so close. What an idiot he is. Linda ruffles her hair out again. It’s wet. She’ll have to blow-dry it before she goes.
Chapter 4
The snow floats down silently outside the windows of the swimming hall, each snowflake becoming one with the sea. Not a single flake will be lost. From cloud to air to sea and back again to air and cloud. Nothing is ever lost. Inside the hall, on this side of the windows, there is water, steam, chlorine, crowds, warm breath, and Linda standing at the very top of the diving tower. Her moment has come. She looks out over the swimming hall, at all the people in the stands. At her mum and dad. They are smiling, but they d
on’t dare wave for fear of distracting her before her dive. The dive that’s going to be perfect; that has to be perfect if she’s ever going to have her turn at winning ‘the whole caboodle’, as Dad puts it. She can see Maria down there too. Maria with her bright-red towel draped over her shoulders like a victory cape. It seems in keeping. Maria has won everything. Maria always wins ‘the whole caboodle’. She is smiling at Linda now and giving her the thumbs-up. It’s easy, thinks Linda, to be generous to someone who doesn’t pose any threat, who barely counts as competition.
Shifting her weight from her right foot to her left, Linda glances round the swimming hall once more. The air is filled with expectation. Her gaze stops at a pair of polar-blue eyes. It’s the boy from the tram. He’s looking straight up at her. Suddenly she feels her heartbeat slow down, and her chest rise and fall calmly. All sound melts away. Her concentration gathers. Her muscles are poised. She knows what she has to do now. In her mind she runs through every moment of the dive ahead. She knows this one is going to be perfect. And even though she loses eye contact with the boy as she jumps, she can still feel his gaze, and senses it calming her nerves. And as she descends towards to the water she feels she has all the time in the world: time to realign her body perfectly after her somersault; time before she breaks through the glassy surface of the pool, without a sound, without a ripple. And as soon as she is under the water, Linda is already smiling, sure of what awaits her the moment she surfaces. She pops up at the side of the pool, takes a deep breath and wipes the water from her face. She is greeted by the sound of clapping from the stands. Her parents are on their feet. They’re no longer afraid to wave, and her mother can’t stop jumping up and down. Linda jumps and pulls herself out of the water. Maria is there in an instant, hugging her. Now they are both wrapped in the red victory cape. They look up at the scoreboard and as the final scores appear, what everyone thought is confirmed: Linda is in the lead. Maria gives her a kiss on the cheek.
‘Wow, you rock, Linda!’ says Maria, giving her a hug. ‘That was amazing!’ Linda looks at her friend. She seems genuinely happy for her. How can Maria always be so nice? So happy for others, even if it means letting someone else take the glory?
‘I’ve no idea how it happened,’ says Linda, wriggling from her friend’s embrace and picking up her own towel. How often has she watched Maria do brilliantly, and felt a pang of jealousy rather than genuine pleasure?
‘Excellent, Miss Larsen,’ says her coach. ‘That was very good indeed. Why can’t you always concentrate like that, hmm?’
He sounds pleased, even though his tone is rather brusque.
‘I don’t know,’ says Linda, with a shrug. She lets her gaze roam over the crowd for a glimpse of the boy. Was he actually there? Linda feels a weird tingling sensation in her body and suddenly dark spots appear in front of her eyes. Maria grabs her by the arm.
‘Are you okay, Linda?’ Maria asks.
‘Yeah, sure,’ she replies, straightening up.
‘You looked like you were about to faint,’ says Maria, giving her a concerned rub with the towel.
‘A bit giddy, that’s all.’
‘Here, have this banana and plenty to drink in the break,’ says her coach, before giving her a pat on the back.
Linda sees a new expression in his face, a sort of pride – or is it hope? She smiles back, suddenly aware of not wanting to disappoint him. She determines to make her next dive equally good. For the first time ever she feels she could actually win.
‘Visualize your next dive during the break, Miss Larsen. This is set to be a great competition for us, girls,’ says the coach, clapping his hands three times to emphasize the significance of what he’s said. As the two friends wander back to the changing rooms Maria gives Linda a poke in the side, and mimics him: ‘Visualize your next dive in the break, girls. Imagine you’re a banana, girls. Enter the water like a silent tiger!’
Hanging back for a moment, Linda casts her eye over the stands again. Maybe the boy hadn’t been there at all. Had she been mistaken? She gets her answer with a bump.
‘Congratulations!’
‘What?’
‘Impressive dive,’ says the boy, standing in front of her. It’s warm here in the swimming hall, and yet he’s still wearing the same coat he had on in the tram. He has a pale face with dark circles under his eyes and a bluish tint around his mouth.
‘Thank you,’ says Linda, looking at him. She’s about to say more and to ask him who he is, but he quickly bows and leaves. What sort of boy goes around bowing to girls? Nobody in her class, that’s for sure. She watches him leave, his coat flapping behind him. What is with that coat? And the make-up? He must be wearing mascara on those eyelashes.
‘Hey, Linda, are you coming?’ says Maria, poking her head round the changing-room door.
‘Yes, stop nagging!’
Linda wraps her towel more closely around her and hurries into the changing room after her friend.
Chapter 5
Linda sits down on a changing-room bench and leans against the wall.
‘Are you going to eat that banana, or just sit there hugging it?’
‘Eat it, I suppose.’
Linda peels the banana, divides it into two and gives half to Maria before chucking the peel in the bin.
‘Are you alright?’ asks Maria, with a mouthful of banana.
‘Yes, but . . . well I felt kind of odd.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘When I was diving. It didn’t feel like it was me doing it. I always feel kind of nervous beforehand, but this time I felt totally calm,’ Linda explains.
‘If our coach could hear you now he’d be overjoyed!’
‘There was this boy looking up at me when I was on the diving board. He had such an intense look in his eyes, and then he nodded at me and I felt so calm and focused.’
‘Was he good-looking?’
‘Didn’t you see him? He bumped into me just now, outside the changing rooms.’
‘No, I didn’t notice. You’ll have to point him out to me afterwards.’
‘I think he left.’ Linda looks down at the piece of banana in her hand. She feels nauseous and wants to throw it away.
‘While we’re on the subject of boys, I’ve got something for you. Markus gave me a letter to give to you. It’s from Oscar.’
Maria takes an envelope out of the side pocket of her bag. She waves it in front of her nose, sniffing it demonstratively.
‘Mmm, perfume! A love letter, perhaps?’ suggests Maria, winking before holding the letter under Linda’s nose. Linda pulls back, another wave of nausea coming over her.
‘Yuck! Has he smothered it in his mum’s perfume – or his granny’s?’
‘Don’t be so negative, Linda. You’ve got a perfumed love letter. Now, open it!’
Linda does and fishes out a sheet of paper decorated with stickers of dogs, flowers and kittens. No doubt stolen from his little sister, thinks Linda, before reading:
To Linda!
You are one of the coolest people I know and also really CUTE (did you know Linda means ‘beautiful’ in Spanish?)!
I could be your boyfriend if you like.
Your very own (if you want, that is),
Oscar.
Maria grabs the letter and reads it aloud before handing it back to Linda.
‘You have got to say yes!’
‘Have I?’
‘Yes! Oscar is Markus’s best friend. It’s perfect! We can go on double dates! And tonight we can go to the cinema to celebrate!’
‘Celebrate what?’
‘Your amazing dive and the fact you’ve got a new boyfriend!’ says Maria.
‘I’m not sure . . .’
‘But he’s the second best-looking boy in school.’
‘Well, okay – but shouldn’t I be in love first?’
‘Are you thinking about that Axel guy again?’
‘No. Axel’s an idiot.’
‘You’re in love with Axel, that
’s why you think he’s an idiot. It’s just like in Anne of Green Gables – one minute she hates that guy Gilbert, and the next minute she loves him. You don’t have a clue sometimes.’
‘Well, if you’re right, then I can’t go out with Oscar.’
‘You what? Axel lives in Stavanger and Oscar lives in Trondheim.’
‘He doesn’t live in Stavanger, he lives further south than that.’
‘Ugh, it’s all the same. The point is that it’s better to have a boyfriend that lives in the same city. Then you can get a bit of experience.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If you go out with Oscar, then you’ll have to kiss him. I mean; you haven’t actually kissed anyone yet, have you?’
Maria sighs and goes over to the mirror to tidy her wet hair. She tightens her ponytail and stands on tiptoe so she can see more of herself. Running her fingers under the edges of her red swimsuit, she straightens it at the tops of her thighs. Her legs are the colour of milky chocolate. Linda gazes at her friend’s reflection. She’s got small breasts under her swimsuit now too. They weren’t there in the autumn.
Linda looks down at herself, at her skinny, milk-white legs. It’s hardly surprising she’s never been kissed. But she certainly seems to catching the boy-bug or something. Is Maria right? Is she actually in love with Axel? Again she thinks of last summer. She sees the sun flashing in the water. An inflatable blue mattress viewed from below. Her hands tipping the mattress over. A body rolling into the water. Hands reaching out. Axel’s hand grabbing her ankle. The surface of the water rushing towards her. Axel’s head popping up beside hers. His face close to hers. His hand tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His lips moving: You’re like a dolphin.
‘Wakey-wakey! You’re dreamy today,’ says Maria.
‘I’m sorry, Maria.’
‘We should get back out there now.’
Maria turns to leave without waiting. Linda gets up, but feels faint. She steadies herself and manages to stay on her feet. Linda is relieved to see that Maria has walked on oblivious.
Minus Me Page 2