‘It’s weird that it should drop dead out of the sky like that.’
‘Do you think so? It’s no weirder than when a person drops dead in the street,’ he says with a shrug.
‘Well, I’ve never seen anything like this happen before. Have you?’
‘Just because we haven’t seen something with our own eyes doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen,’ says Zak, wanting to walk on.
‘Don’t you get bored with being such a know-it-all the whole time? You sound like you’re eighty years old!’ Linda snarls irritably.
She squats down and looks at the bird; at the wings that are half stretched from the body as though they were in mid-flight when it died. Did its heart stop? Did it have a mysterious heart disorder like her?
‘We’ve got to bury it,’ she says.
‘Why? It’s only a bird.’
‘We can’t just leave it lying here,’ she says, throwing her arms out.
Zak comes over and picks up the bird.
‘Let’s throw it in the bin.’
‘Now you’re being horrid,’ says Linda, stretching her hand out to the bird. Zak places the little creature in her palm, soft and limp. She lifts it to her cheek.
‘It’s still warm,’ she says, looking over at Zak, who just rolls his eyes.
Linda looks around at the frozen landscape.
‘Where shall we bury it? The ground’s completely frozen.’
‘Do you think it cares? Do you think one of the last things it thought before it fell to earth was “I hope some nice people come along and bury me”?’
‘Maybe not, but I still want to bury it.’
‘Because this is actually all about you, isn’t it?’
‘What do you mean by that? That it’s all about me?’
‘You identify with that bird. It reminds you of when your heart stopped in the middle of your dive!’ Zak shouts.
‘Now you’re being mean. Besides, I didn’t die.’
Zak flashes her a glance and starts to carry on across the bridge. Then he suddenly turns around and comes back.
‘Okay. Let’s bury the poor little thing. We’ll bury it so you feel better. That’s the reason people are so obsessed with rituals, isn’t it? They want to feel better. And when the body’s buried nobody has to see it break down and return to the natural cycle. Every single little bit of the dead body.’
‘It’s so sad,’ says Linda, peering down at the bird. ‘So sad that it’ll rot away.’
‘Do you think so? If no birds died, then no new birds could be born. Did you know, the minute that bird came into the world, it started to die? And perhaps it hasn’t even realized it’s dead. Perhaps it’s still flying around. Perhaps only its body is lying here in your hand,’ says Zak.
‘Do you think birds and animals have souls just like people?’
‘Why shouldn’t they?’
Linda doesn’t answer. She crosses over the bridge and starts to sweep away the snow at the roadside with her foot. She takes a stick and tries to dig a hole in the frozen ground. The stick snaps. She looks around for something else.
‘I’ve got a better idea,’ say Zak.
‘What? Just throw it in the dustbin?’
Linda is furious. She starts to dig with her hands. Her mittens are getting dirty, but she still doesn’t succeed in making a hole. Not big enough to bury a bird in, at least.
‘It’s a bird, and birds like sitting in trees. We can put it up in a tree,’ says Zak.
Linda straightens up and looks at Zak. Has this guy lost his mind now, or what?
‘Well, what you’re doing now is useless, that’s for sure,’ he says, pointing at the pathetic little hole in the snow and the broken stick.
‘Maybe the bird would prefer a resting place in a tree? Come on, let’s try that tree there.’
Zak has already started wading through the snow towards the tree. He stands under it and looks up through its leafless branches.
‘Shh,’ he whispers. ‘Can you hear? There’s a little bird singing up there.’
Linda listens carefully. She can hear the song, but she can’t see the bird. Then the singing stops, and as the bird takes flight, Linda catches a brief glimpse of it.
‘Do you want to put it up there yourself?’ Zak asks. ‘I can lift you up to the lower branch.’
‘Okay.’
Linda walks over to the trunk of the tree.
Zak asks if she’s ready. She nods. He grabs her round the hips and lifts her up. He lifts her as easily as if she weighed nothing. Zak must be pretty strong despite being so skinny. Linda rests the limp bird on a branch close to the trunk. Then she lifts herself up onto the branch and sits next to its little body.
‘Goodnight,’ she says. She can’t think of anything more to say, so she starts to sing. ‘One winter’s morn the wind shall blast, and you my dear shall breathe your last.’
‘Then in the snow I’ll shroud your sweet form, till the spring sun my cold cheek doth warm.’
His voice rings out loud and clear, and in the middle of the song he stretches out his arms for Linda.
‘You know it . . .’ she says, surprised. ‘It’s hardly the most common hymn.’
‘Well, it’s one of the nicest funeral hymns I know,’ he answers.
‘Granny had it at her funeral, so I should have it at mine,’ she says.
‘Do you think about your funeral a lot?’
‘Yes, I wonder who’ll be there, and whether my soul will still be around as I’m being buried.’
‘Would you like that?’
‘I don’t know. But it would be nice to see who comes. To see that everyone who loved me was there, and that they missed me. Will you be there?’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you. I’d like you to be there.’
‘Well, the most important thing now is that I get you to Axel, isn’t it?’ asks Zak. ‘Aren’t you coming down from that tree now? Jump! I’ll catch you,’ he says, with his arms still stretched out.
‘But will you come to my funeral?’
‘Jump now, and I’ll catch you!’ he says.
Linda jumps and Zak catches her. Then he lets her down to the ground very slowly. They are standing close together. Zak’s lips are almost touching Linda’s forehead. He mumbles something quietly to her. But she doesn’t quite catch it. She thinks she hears him say something like: ‘I couldn’t possibly not be there.’
‘What did you just say?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ he says. Then he gives her a quick kiss, before pushing her away almost roughly and heading off.
Linda is left standing alone by the tree. The cold is creeping up over her legs. Her boots are no longer warm, all the woodburner heat long gone. Who the hell is Zak, Linda wonders again. She hasn’t seen him eat or sleep or drink. He never seems to go to the toilet either. But even if all these things point to him being a zombie, vampire, werewolf, alien or something worse, he’s still the person she most wants to spend time with. In fact she’s glad that he came on this trip with her, and not Maria.
Chapter 34
‘Oh, no,’ Linda sighs, taking out her mobile, seeing she has a text from her mum.
‘Did I tell you that I think my mother’s expecting a baby?’ Linda says to Zak.
‘Yes, you mentioned something of the sort.’
‘I’m frightened she’ll lose the baby if she gets a shock or gets upset. She can’t find out I’m not with Maria.’
Linda thinks again about the last time it happened. She and Axel had borrowed the boat without asking, and they’d driven it onto some rocks. She’s never even dared mention it to Maria. It’s as though she’s frightened that if she tells anyone, it’ll be her fault even more.
‘I wouldn’t worry yourself about that, if I were you.’
‘That’s easy for you to say,’ says Linda, then, ‘Oh God, Maria’s the world’s worst liar.’
Linda covers her face with her hands.
‘I’m the world’s most selfish person!’
>
‘Stop it. I’m sure the baby will be fine. Third time lucky, isn’t that what they say?’
‘I wish I was a bird. Then I could just fall out of the sky dead too, without thinking so much about it,’ says Linda with a sigh.
‘But think of all the amazing things people can do, that birds can’t. Isn’t the knowledge that we’ll die some day a small price to pay?’ asks Zak.
‘Yes, but how about tulip bulbs? They get lots of lives. They go into hibernation in the winter and then get another chance the next year, and the next.’
‘Wow! Imagine what fun it must be to be a bulb!’ says Zak.
‘Oh, shut up, idiot. Perhaps it’s the same with people. Perhaps our souls just go into hibernation and are born into new bodies. Perhaps the soul is a kind of spring bulb?’ says Linda, suddenly getting philosophical, and feeling rather pleased with herself.
Linda looks over at Zak. She observes again how he’s standing there without a hat, without gloves, and with his coat undone. Not that his coat looks exactly warm anyway. Perhaps he’s an angel? Is that why he’s following her about?
‘Is that it? Do we perhaps have an immortal part of us, a soul that continues to exist after we die?’ she asks hesitantly.
‘The important thing is what you believe. No living person knows what comes after death. That’s just how it is.’
‘But why?’ she asks irritably. ‘Wouldn’t it be better if we did know?’
‘Then there’d be total and utter chaos,’ Zak protests, getting heated again. ‘Just imagine if everyone was absolutely certain they were going to be born again, they’d probably just go off and kill themselves the moment things got a bit challenging. Game over, and then a new life in a new body! Perfect!’ Zak says angrily.
‘There’s no need to get cross. I was just playing with ideas. Isn’t it natural that I should wonder what happens after death?’
‘I suppose so,’ Zak sighs, calming down again. ‘But one thing we know for sure is that nothing of the body disappears after we die. Everything goes back into the natural cycle. And that goes for every living thing. Do you follow me?’
Linda nods. Zak moves closer to Linda, and suddenly he has the same intense look on his face as he had in the swimming hall. The one he had just before her heart stopped.
‘In that case,’ he continues, ‘it would be odd if what we call our soul just disappeared into thin air, don’t you think?’
‘So, do you know the answer?’
‘Why should I know what happens after death any more than you do?’ says Zak, biting his lip. ‘Can’t I play with ideas too?’ he adds.
‘Yes, but . . .’ Linda hesitates before trying again. ‘But you’re so strange. And you just did it again.’
‘Did what?’
‘Whenever I ask you something, you always ask me a question back. You never give me a straight answer. What are you really going to do in Stavanger, for example?’
‘I’ve told you, it’s a girl. I want to get to know her a bit better, before . . . Ah . . . forget about it.’
‘Why? No! What girl?’
‘A very cool girl. The best there is.’
‘Is she your girlfriend?’
‘No. If you really must know, she’s my sister,’ Zak says, turning and marching off down the street.
‘Is that really true?’ Linda says, running after him and grabbing his arm. He wrenches his arm away, so she loses her balance and falls backwards. Zak holds her, and again she is struck by how strong that skinny body is.
‘Do I look like I’m lying?’ he hisses through his teeth.
‘No, no, I’m sorry,’ Linda whimpers, mostly from the pain of his vicelike grip.
‘Okay. So we won’t talk about it any more.’
Zak releases her. Linda rubs her arm, but she’s not about to give up.
‘What exactly are you?’
Zak doesn’t answer. He just walks on. She runs up alongside him.
‘Are you a vampire?’
‘Ha-ha! Very funny!’
‘Are you an angel, then?’
‘Don’t be daft!’
‘Are you Death, perhaps?’
This last question makes Zak stop in his tracks and burst into laughter.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘You really think I’m Death? As if death is some sort of weird guy who roams about rounding people up,’ says Zak, bursting into hysterics again. ‘Of all the superstitions in the world, the idea that Death is some sort of person, has to be the stupidest. The man with the scythe! Ha-ha-ha! Death is just a state of being, just as life is a state of being.’
‘Sometimes I don’t understand a thing you say,’ says Linda, sighing, and this time she’s the one who leaves Zak.
She can hear he still hasn’t stopped laughing. He’s standing there giggling to himself. When she glances back, she sees him shaking his head and wiping the corners of his eyes. Oh my God! It wasn’t that funny. Zak must realize he’s strange. She’s certainly never met anyone like him, at least. She wonders about this sister of his in Stavanger, and what she’s like. He wanted to get to know her, is it perhaps a half-sister or something? It’ll be exciting to find out, that’s for certain.
Linda kicks a lump of ice lying on the pavement. It lands next to a leaflet lying at the side of the road. Connie Larsen. Hairdresser and clairvoyant. What the hell’s a clairvoyant? she thinks. She stands beside the leaflet and waits for Zak. Perhaps he knows.
‘Have you finished laughing?’ she asks sarcastically, as he comes up alongside her.
‘Almost,’ he says, putting a friendly arm around her shoulders. ‘But what have we here?’ he says, looking down at the leaflet.
‘What’s a clairvoyant?’
‘Somebody who’s very good at guessing the future.’
‘A bit like you, then.’
‘Not quite. This person professes to be able to actually see into the future.’
‘To see into the future? Can’t we go and see her then?’ asks Linda.
Perhaps this Connie Larsen person could tell her something about Axel? Perhaps she’ll tell her that Axel is totally head-over-heels in love with her, and that he’ll be over the moon when she turns up, because she’s come all that way just for his sake.
‘Do you really think it’s a good idea?’ asks Zak, interrupting her thoughts.
‘It’s ages until the concert, so we’ve got to do something. And besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen?’
‘Well, she might just tell you something about the future that you’d rather not hear.’
‘I’ve met a doctor who pointed at a picture of my heart and said that there’s something wrong with it that’s so rare they don’t even know what it is, and who told me that he wasn’t even sure if a new heart would cure it, so nothing frightens me now. Not even a hairdresser who says she can see into the future.’
‘You’ve got a point,’ says Zak, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.
‘And besides, I’d like a haircut.’
‘I think you’re perfect as you are, with long hair,’ says Zak.
‘Who do you think you are? My mother?’ asks Linda.
Chapter 35
The hairdressing salon is in the cellar of a private house. It’s not exactly full of clients, and when Zak and Linda come through the door, they find a woman with hair like white candyfloss sitting on a deep sofa browsing a magazine. On the table in front of her, on top of a pile of newspapers and magazines, sits a blue Persian cat, purring. Another lies on the sofa next to her, this one pink. Neither of the two cats seems too pleased at having visitors. They leap down to the floor and hiss at Zak and Linda.
‘Hey,’ says Linda.
‘So, the two of you have come at last,’ says the woman with the candyfloss hair, getting up and putting her magazine on the table.
‘Unusual cats,’ says Linda, unable to take her eyes off the two bundles of fur. The cats open their mouths to hiss again, this time almost soundlessly
. They have their eyes glued on Zak, and they are arching their backs. Linda looks over at Zak, who has pulled his t-shirt collar up over his mouth and nose.
‘Come on, Cherry and Blossom, there’s no reason to get worked up,’ says the woman, picking up the cats.
‘Thank goodness,’ says Zak.
The woman doesn’t answer, but gives Zak a piercing stare.
‘I’m allergic,’ he says.
‘You’re a strange one, alright. But one thing you’re not, and that’s allergic to cats,’ says the hairdresser.
Linda shudders a little. So she’s not the only one who thinks there’s something strange about Zak. Perhaps this hairdresser really has got some kind of second sight? Perhaps Linda can ask her what it is about Zak? Since he’s always avoiding the subject. The candyfloss woman disappears through the door with a cat under each arm. Linda and Zak sit down on the sofa, and Linda leans towards the table to see if any of the magazines are of interest.
‘Zak, what did she mean by that?’
‘By what?’ says Zak, grabbing a magazine filled with pictures of hairstyles.
‘When she said you’re strange.’
‘If anyone’s strange it’s her. She’s totally weird,’ says Zak, flicking mechanically through the magazine. ‘Do you have any particular haircut in mind? What about that one?’ he asks, showing her a picture of a woman with the world’s most boring, mouse-coloured, pudding-basin style.
‘Certainly not that one. I want blue hair.’
‘Blue?’
‘Yes, if it looks good on a cat, it should look pretty good on me too!’ says Linda.
‘I think dyeing a cat’s fur verges on animal abuse,’ says Zak, flinging the magazine down.
‘So you don’t think my cats like being pink and blue?’ says the hairdresser.
‘Whoops,’ says Linda, who hadn’t noticed the hairdresser coming back in.
‘Well, no. I wouldn’t say they look altogether pleased,’ says Zak, who doesn’t seem the least worried about being rude.
‘Why not dye half your hair pink while you’re at it?’ asks Zak, turning to Linda.
‘No, pink would be completely wrong,’ says the hairdresser. ‘But blue would go with your eyes.’
She offers Linda one of the hairdressing chairs.
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