‘You’re being rather laid back about it.’
‘I’ll call her editor and let him know I’m familiar with the law on libel. That ought to shut her up.’
Bernhard took my hand in both of his and didn’t ask about the manuscript, because this was booksellers’ night and it was the job of the illustrious publishing house to promote Danish culture as it had done for centuries. The booksellers got stuck in to the tapas buffet.
Bernhard was first to take the floor. Helene was sitting with a couple of colleagues.
‘I haven’t prepared anything,’ I said.
‘You don’t have to say much,’ she said. ‘Use your charm.’
This was a sales push for the spring catalogue, but as Bernhard put it, there would also be a couple of explosive surprises ready for Christmas. I jotted down an outline while a well-preserved woman talked articulately about her upcoming biography of Tom Kristensen, then started from scratch when a much-loved writer from an outlying region held forth on his crime-thriller pastiche set in Sønderho.
Bernhard gave the floor to Mark, who opined that my book was set to be the big eye-opener that Christmas, and he added weight to his words by opening his Mac and giving the assembled booksellers a sneak preview of the ambitious marketing campaign.
The rear wall transformed into a big screen and the art department had put together some realistic visualisations: there I was on a billboard in between Samsung and Mentos at Nørreport Station, and there on the side of a bus. Farewell coupledom and thanks for nothing! – the book you don’t want your partner to read!
Helene gave my hand a squeeze under the table and I stepped up amid a round of applause.
I talked about the perpetual motion machine first, then gave examples of regular dysfunctionality, explained that the book was based on my own life and then rounded things off by reading the bit about Master Licker of Ørby.
Mark glowed with enthusiasm.
‘Do you know how totally wicked that came across, Vallin?’
We adjourned to the Byens Kro and Helene pressed her bum against me, accepting shots from the skilled bartender and getting drunker than she intended.
‘Is this not good?’ she said as we sat in the taxi.
‘Everything’s fine,’ I said.
‘You know what I mean,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry,’ she went on. ‘I’m imtim … in-timi-dat-ing you. You’re with someone, for God’s sake. A gorgeous woman you’re mad about.’
I put my arm around her shoulder, but I missed Diana like hell.
‘Should we eat together tomorrow?’ I said as she opened the car door.
‘We like our food, you and me,’ she said and kissed me. ‘Food!’
Diana’s side of the bed was empty by the time I woke up. The pillow had lost its pillowcase in the night, and the sheet was scrunched up at the bottom of the bed. Jan was snoring and the only other sound was the faint hum of traffic.
Three suits and a pile of shirts lay on the floor in front of Diana’s clothes rack. She had started examining herself in the mirror, or maybe she had always done so, just not in the kind of way you noticed.
‘How about this one?’
It was lavender-coloured, a suit.
‘Are you going somewhere?’ I said.
‘I’ve got to get dressed!’
‘It’s only Monday,’ I said.
‘Why do Danish people always say only in front of everything?’
It was probably true.
‘You look very nice,’ I said.
‘There’s something wrong with the collar,’ she said.
‘Not as far as I can see.’
‘I mean inside. It prickles my neck.’
She did a little jig, anger and irritation.
‘Perhaps it’s just my neck,’ she said. ‘Here, you try.’
‘It won’t fit me,’ I said.
‘You don’t need to put your arms through,’ she said.
She wriggled the jacket on to my shoulders and dragged the collar back and forth across my neck so that I might feel whatever it was that had bothered her. I tried to concentrate.
‘Nothing yet,’ I said.
‘Walk about a bit while we do some breakfast.’
I put some bread in the toaster and Jan watched me with his eyes half shut.
‘You should wear lavender more often,’ he said.
I took the jacket off and handed it back.
‘There’s nothing wrong with it.’
‘Give it a chance to work first!’ she said.
‘The itching powder, you mean?’ I said.
‘Perhaps they use a lot of chemicals at the dry cleaner’s,’ she said.
‘Your other jackets don’t prickle.’
‘How would you know, Mikkel?’
‘You’ve never mentioned it if they do.’
‘You don’t tell me everything, do you?’
It had started with her feet a few days before. They had grown, she said, and now all her shoes pinched. Maybe it was some kind of fluid build-up in her body. I didn’t know how to tackle it. Diana could be annoyed or angry, but she was always herself, and this new darkness seemed to come from somewhere else. It came to a head in Irma.
She had stopped cycling and went for endless walks instead. We had tramped all through Søndermarken and then Frederiksberg Have, and my feet automatically headed for the Irma supermarket on Gammel Kongevej. I suggested something Vietnamese with chicken, lemon, mint and chilli, but she turned her nose up at the prospect, as well as at my alternative involving mushrooms and tofu.
Her only suggestion was spinach.
‘They’ve got frozen whole leaves at the end of the display over there,’ I said. ‘It’s even on offer this week. Grab three.’
‘Is this where you shop with Helene for your meals together?’ she said.
I didn’t have the chance to talk my way out of it, or even to be honest, as Moritz stepped out from behind the bread counter wearing a rather clingy trench coat.
Diana’s eye began to twitch as she dug into the potatoes.
‘You like your spuds, I see,’ said Moritz. Diana had filled the bag almost to bursting point.
We exchanged the standard air-kisses.
‘I was just thinking about you, Diana,’ he said. ‘Should we drop that collectors’ dinner and throw a party instead? We’re tired of sitting down, aren’t we?’
Diana nodded and was miles away. ‘All right,’ she said.
‘I’ll invite the collectors for champagne beforehand.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and wandered off.
Moritz picked up a pack of Portobello mushrooms. I found her a few minutes later, hiding in a doorway.
‘I can’t breathe!’
A young mother walked past with two children, and a shuffling pensioner trundled a tartan shopping trolley along in the other direction. Diana clutched her chest and battled against a panic attack. I tried to teach her the breathing exercises I’d learned from the drama project on Suhmsgade, but they were no help whatsoever. Fifteen minutes later we began to slowly make our way home.
The next evening I went up to Taarbæk for help.
I wanted to borrow some money so Diana and I could go to Rome once we’d got everything out of the way, and I had a feeling Nikolaj Krogh had already decoded the purpose of my visit. Only a small minority of those involved in the arts had money enough to lend, and it clearly wasn’t the first time he’d been asked.
Mille was folding clothes on the long dining table, Nikolaj Krogh was cooking dinner and Lisa was slouched in a futuristic armchair, flicking impatiently through a Dutch fashion magazine.
It was an evening like any other in Taarbæk, and choreographed down to the way the big white bath towels had been stacked in the bathroom.
We had oxtail stew.
‘She’s always nervous before an exhibition,’ said Lisa.
‘She lies awake all night,’ I said. ‘Big round eyes staring into the darkness.’
�
��It’s anxiety,’ said Mille.
‘You say that about everything,’ said Lisa.
‘It’ll stop once the exhibition gets started,’ said Mille.
‘Should we have the meeting here instead tomorrow?’ said Nikolaj Krogh.
‘What meeting?’ I said.
‘The Next Love meeting,’ he said.
‘The distraction will do her good,’ said Mille.
I helped Nikolaj Krogh with the washing-up.
‘How are you two getting on, anyway?’ he said.
‘Apart from all the disasters, we’re not,’ I said.
‘We can’t have that!’ he said. ‘What should we do about it?’
I came clean. ‘I want to show her Rome,’ I said.
‘Always a good idea to get away,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a partner down there. Do you want me to make a call, see if I can get you fixed up with a flat?’
‘We can stay with a guy we met on Capri,’ I said.
‘Do you need to borrow some money?’ he said.
‘If you could, I’d be grateful.’
‘How long were you thinking of staying there?’ he said.
‘Four days,’ I said.
‘About twenty thousand, then?’
I nodded and hung a little copper saucepan on a hook.
‘And you were out for lunch with Andreas, I believe?’ he said.
I noted the introductory conjunction. It meant he linked the two things together. First he told me about some hurdles that had cropped up regarding the Sjælsmark purchase, and then he hit me with it:
‘Have you thought about your role in the organisation, Mikkel? Wouldn’t it be a relief to hand on the chairmanship to Andreas?’
I hung my tea towel up.
‘We’ve already got some funds in the kitty,’ he said. ‘The summer camp at Tisvilde came out rather well in that respect.’
He took off his blue apron. It looked expensive. ‘You must have forked out quite a bit of your own money on that account?’
I was about to say I hadn’t.
‘Let’s say we’re quits,’ he said.
Jan insisted on making dinner for the meeting at Diana’s flat the following day, partly because he wanted to impress Nikolaj Krogh, and partly because the organisation was footing the bill, including the twelve-year-old balsamico, the new olive oil from Sicily, and the grappa, delicacies purchased exclusively from the finest of retailers.
Diana volunteered to lend a hand and it didn’t seem to bother her that Andreas Møller would be among the guests. They were listening to Erasure and spooning spinach filling into home-made ravioli when I got home, and there were canapés with chicken-liver pâté, pickled plums and salmon tartare with peas and tarragon.
Andreas Møller arrived on the stroke of seven with his cheeks aglow. He was wearing a blazer and had brought flowers for the hostess.
Mille drank three glasses of spumante in fifteen minutes and Nikolaj Krogh insisted on the prolonged and heartfelt hug. There was a delicious garlicky smell from the lamb slow-roasting in the oven and the biodynamic Beaujolais was chilled and went down a treat. Nikolaj Krogh took it upon himself to call the assembly to order before things got out of hand. He pulled a xeroxed agenda from his sumptuously patinated leather briefcase.
‘Are we quorate?’ he asked.
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ said Mille.
‘Why don’t we give Jan a vote?’ I said. ‘He and Diana have been cooking all day.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever had one before,’ said Jan. ‘It feels rather nice.’
‘And let’s all agree on Lisa voting in absentia,’ said Nikolaj Krogh. ‘She’s at home feeling sick.’
The first item was electing an executive committee.
‘Neither Mikkel Vallin nor Mille Cortzen Krogh are seeking reelection,’ said Nikolaj Krogh. ‘Andreas Møller has put himself up for chairman.’
Andreas Møller gave an inappropriately formal speech of acceptance and I observed the way his jaw muscles worked in forming his words, the way he angled his hands and bared his lower teeth.
‘Which brings us to the most important item on our agenda tonight,’ said Nikolaj Krogh. ‘Our line of direction. I suggest we identify five components of our work: love, finance, property, membership and God. Let’s start with love, shall we?’
‘What a marvellous meeting,’ said Jan. ‘Love!’
‘Our primary inspiration is from John Noyes,’ I said. ‘At Oneida, fixed coupledom was forbidden, and in my opinion that line of thinking is fundamental to what we are trying to achieve.’
‘What’s fixed coupledom when it’s at home?’ said Mille.
‘It’s when you turn yourselves inward and confine each other,’ I said.
‘What if a couple were to allow each other freedom within that construction?’ said Nikolaj Krogh.
‘Then there’s no shortage of nice houses in the suburbs,’ I said.
‘You’re not addressing the question, Mikkel,’ said Andreas Møller.
‘Do I have to?’ I said.
‘Isn’t that what we’re here for?’ said Mille.
‘I was pretty sure our ambition was to break down the norm,’ I said. ‘I thought the very idea was to liberate energies and let them flow freely, to elevate the common mass on to a higher level of consciousness.’
‘Where did I put those joss sticks?’ said Jan.
‘Okay, so what if Diana fell in love with someone else?’ said Mille.
‘Then I’d probably feel down about it,’ I said.
‘And what if you got jealous and did a lot of stupid things?’ said Mille.
‘I’d like to think I wouldn’t,’ I said.
‘But you are quite jealous, Mikkel,’ said Jan.
‘Should couples live together, too?’ I said.
‘I’d like to be able to sleep in the same house as Lisa and our little baby,’ said Nikolaj Krogh.
‘I understand that, but aren’t we now reducing it all to communal living? What would set us apart from your average house-share?’
‘God would,’ said Andreas Møller.
We debated the issue for half an hour and it was me against Andreas Møller, Nikolaj Krogh and Mille. Jan was impressed by our seriousness. Diana drew doodles on her agenda.
‘We need to put this to the vote,’ said Nikolaj Krogh. ‘First, the most far-reaching proposal: all those in favour of prohibiting couple-dom raise their hands.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ I said. ‘The most far-reaching proposal would be to allow couplehood. That’s never been the intention.’
‘Mikkel has a point,’ said Andreas Møller.
‘Okay, so all those in favour of allowing coupledom.’
Nikolaj Krogh, Andreas Møller and Mille raised their hands.
‘And those against?’
I raised my hand, as did Jan and Diana.
Nikolaj Krogh took a piece of paper from his briefcase:
‘Taarbæk, October fifteenth. I hereby inform the general meeting that I vote in favour of Next Love permitting couplehood. Signed: Lisa Zöllner.’
‘How ruthless!’ said Jan with a laugh. Diana carried on doodling.
‘Now, let us proceed to the issue of finance,’ said Nikolaj Krogh.
‘That sounds logical,’ I said.
‘Don’t sulk, Mikkel!’ said Mille.
‘I’m distraught,’ I said.
‘Why don’t we have a break and get some fresh air?’ said Nikolaj Krogh.
I went out on to the terrace and stared up at the grey sky.
‘I respect you for sticking to your guns,’ said Andreas Møller.
He’d brought his drink with him.
‘I thought you didn’t compromise,’ I said.
‘I’ve always considered John Noyes’ weakness to be his idiosyncracies about free love.’
‘You should have told me that before.’
‘You didn’t ask.’
‘What’s your motivation here?’ I said.
‘A qualified congregation,’ he said.
Nikolaj Krogh called to order.
‘We need to discuss something tangible,’ he said. ‘Therefore, I’ve altered the running order a bit, so our next item will be property.’
He handed out some photocopies. They were in colour.
‘As you all know, we had reached a rather advanced stage in our negotiations regarding the purchase of Sjælsmark Kaserne, but it turns out the local authority have decided to make use of the facility themselves, and for that reason Andreas and I have gone on to Plan B.’
‘What a magnificent place,’ said Jan.
The handout was from an estate agent and detailed a manor house in Odsherred: the main building comprising some two thousand square metres, a picturesque lake, a number of small cottages dotted about the property’s perimeter, and a seventeenth-century church. And all of it but two hundred metres from the sea, private access.
‘The main house can relatively easily be turned into about forty separate dwellings. Then there’s the cottages, and on top of that plenty of acreage on which to build in the longer term. It does mean going for about one hundred dwellers rather than the three hundred we were looking at before, but we’re actually rather happy about starting off with a smaller congregation. It should allow us to be more focused.’
‘It looks expensive,’ I said.
‘The place has been on the market for two years and they’ve offered us a considerable reduction on the advertised price if we jump in now,’ said Nikolaj Krogh.
‘We signed the papers today,’ said Andreas Møller.
‘You’ve bought it?’ I said.
‘Imagine being able to buy a manor just like that,’ said Jan.
There seemed to be no point in further objections, and one by one the details were passed by vote.
Nikolaj Krogh and Andreas Møller began the process of picking out the strongest possible group of one hundred members from all the potential candidates, and the socialist requirement that each resident contribute five hundred kroner a month to the kitty was agreed. There would be religious services on Sundays and Wednesdays.
I think it was obvious I no longer wished to be associated with the organisation, and I was on the verge of drawing attention to the fact that I should at least get some credit for having thought up their name when I remembered that Nikolaj Krogh had just lined my pockets with twenty thousand kroner. I decided to remain silent.
Am I Cold Page 31