‘I walked him to the door. Ole was about to leave when…’ I stop for a moment. ‘When my mother came home.’

14

THEN

Ole was about to step out into the rain when Mum came walking up the short path from the road. I wasn’t expecting her. She’d been staying at Knut’s a lot lately. She was rushing along, huddled under her umbrella while pulling the dog along behind her. Their feet were like drumsticks on the ground. It took a few seconds before she noticed us, but as soon as she did, she stopped.

Once upon a time my Mum had been an attractive woman. I’d seen pictures of her when she first started going out with Dad. She really had been gorgeous. She had long blonde hair, and in every photograph she was smiling. Glowing, almost. She’d been tall and slim, too, and everything she wore seemed to fit her perfectly. Like her clothes were made just for her.

Now her clothes were hanging loosely around her body. She had dyed her hair black and cut it short, and she always wore a bit too much make-up. As she stood there on the path, scowling at Ole and me from under her umbrella, she looked like something from a horror movie.

‘What the hell is he doing here?’ she said to me, pointing her umbrella at Ole. GP, the dog, started to bark at this stranger in the doorway.

‘Mum…’

I never enjoyed having visitors when Mum was home. All the questions, the fuss – I usually just wanted her to go away.

‘Hi Susanne,’ Ole said.

GP barked again.

‘We were just having a chat,’ I said.

‘Why?’ Her voice was sharp as she came charging towards us.

‘Because…’

Mum reined GP’s lead in close and quickly climbed the steps. She marched past Ole without looking at him, without saying hello, and she didn’t allow the dog to greet him either. After what had happened, I would have thought that Mum might at least have stopped to give me a hug or ask me how I was doing. Certainly I would have expected her to say a few words to Ole; he was the same age as her, and well known in the town, after all. But she just pushed straight past us and opened the door. I hoped, no, I prayed, that Ole wouldn’t notice the stink of alcohol that trailed in her wake like a bad perfume. Once inside she slammed the door behind her. We could hear GP still barking and growling.

‘Sorry,’ I said to Ole. ‘My Mum, she…’ I didn’t know how to finish my sentence.

‘Mothers, eh?’ Ole said.

‘Yeah.’

He waved a hand at me and said again that he’d call me later.

‘Alright,’ I answered.

‘Be kind to yourself now,’ Ole said. ‘You hear?’

‘I’ll try,’ I said. I just didn’t know how.

15

NOW