He had hardly finished speaking when Jakob shot a hand across the table, grabbed his collar, twisted it and shoved his fist up under Stig’s chin. ‘Say that again!’ he hissed. ‘There was never anything at all between Anita and me. Do you understand? Eh?’

Stig quickly nodded his head and held up the palms of both hands. At the neighbouring tables people turned around, and a waiter was already on his way over.

Jakob let Stig fall back on his chair, but he immediately jumped up.

The waiter was at our table now. He was a pale-faced man with mousey hair and as much authority as a deacon at a biker event. ‘It’s fine,’ Stig mumbled. ‘It was my fault.’

‘You can save yourself the trouble,’ Jakob snarled. ‘We’re leaving anyway.’

‘Don’t be like that, Jakob. After all these years … I was just 51curious. Everyone was. Everyone is – those that can remember you lot.’

Jakob rose to his feet and waved for the bill. ‘Fortunately there are fewer and fewer of those as the years pass.’ He looked down at the two women. With total self-assurance, he said: ‘Are you coming, girls? We’re going somewhere else.’

Gro nodded. ‘Of course.’ Her eyes flashed at Stig. ‘What a nerve. To say something like that.’

Kari looked from one to the other, embarrassed, until she finally reached me and smiled – a smile that wasn’t as tentative as when they first showed up.

I held out my arm for her. ‘Stick with me, Kåre,’ I said. ‘The silent majority.’

With a thoughtful expression on her face, she said: ‘I’ve always preferred people who don’t talk much.’

I smirked. ‘Then I’m glad you didn’t know me in my former life,’ I said, and followed Jakob and Gro to the cloakroom.

Behind us the band was heading back onstage. The fog was lifting and it was only now that I could see them clearly. Stig stood out, age-wise. The other three were in their early twenties, as coiffured as footballers and as clean-shaven as competitive swimmers; probably Bella’s usual backing group. Perhaps Stig was a fixed member of the band. Perhaps he was only there in flesh and blood so that Johnny wouldn’t feel too alone, at over forty years old.

Before we were out of the building the band had struck up again. I could see from Jakob’s face that he was thinking the same as I was. But two birds in hand were better than one on the stage. There was no chance that Bella would have us as her backing singers, so we had to be content with the company we had.

52

8

We ended up at a nightclub in what looked like a giant warehouse with whitewashed concrete walls, tubular steel furniture upholstered in red and blue, plastic and silk flower arrangements, a long bar with tall, narrow stools, a sound system of doomsday proportions and a stage floor where a gaudy light show enveloped the gauche movements of two strippers imported from Denmark. They danced to canned music they had brought with them and were about as sensual as two missionaries at a Methodist meeting. Having experienced Bella Bruflåt earlier in the evening, this was like drinking flat beer from a paper cup.