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Chapters (21)
  1. Praise
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. CONTENTS
  5. IN A DEER STAND
  6. SUN DOGS
  7. HYGGE
  8. BY SYDVEST STATION
  9. BETWEEN OFFICES
  10. THE FAIRGROUND
  11. COMPACTION BIRDS
  12. PERSHING SQUARE
  13. HONEYSUCKLE
  14. ON NARROW PAVED PATHS
  15. INSIDE ST. PAUL’S
  16. THE FREEZER CHEST
  17. MANITOBA
  18. WILD SWIMS
  19. PUSHKIN PRESS
  20. ALSO BY DORTHE NORS
  21. COPYRIGHT

On the eleventh of July there was a funeral. It was held at two o’clock in the afternoon, and people came in good time. They drifted into the church to secure themselves seats, as the deceased had been well liked. The nearest relations sat in one of the front pews, and at 1:35 p.m., Alice slipped through the people arriving in the church porch, stepped confidently across the memorial sprays and wreaths, and made her way to the pew closest to the coffin. Then she sat in front of the family with folded hands, looking at the large arrays of lilies with their silk sashes.

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89It was a suitably depressing funeral coffee, with rolls and cold cuts, kringles, a dram for those who required it. There was smoking in the yard, and here Alice explained to the circle what had happened in Einar’s last days, and what they should remember to be thankful for: that it went quickly, that he’d been free of pain, that the cat had found a new home. Then each of them departed, ready to face their everyday cares once more, and around eleven on that first evening of Einar’s everlasting life, Alice plopped down in front of the window by her kitchen table and felt empty inside. A small wren bobbed in the yew beneath the windowsill, and Alice felt as if she were hungry. But no snacking now, she told herself, and then she took out her notebook, wrote Einar buried, the cat put down, good one can be of assistance, and turned out the light.​90

91

INSIDE ST. PAUL’S

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SUN AT THE ZENITH ABOVE ST. PAUL’S, AND HE GAZES at a black Madonna, while she bakes in the sunshine out on the square. He’d even read up on the churches, back home. The dome is majestic, and his plan had been for them to experience it from the inside. The black Madonna’s nursing her infant, her nipple moist with saliva. It’s a video installation, and the lighting in here is soft, like in a forest. You’re not allowed to take pictures. That doesn’t matter to him. She’s the one with the camera on her phone, and she’s sitting out there with sunscreen on her face, staring into it.

He wants to go down into the crypt, to Lord Nelson, and it’s simple enough to find his way there. The crypt is arranged so that, sooner or later, you end up down by Lord Nelson. He lies in his own chamber: black sarcophagus, high plinth encircled by white columns. He’s been granted his very own starry vault and coronet, Horatio Nelson, 1st Viscount. You can walk round and round his mighty sepulchre, and that’s what people do, most of them with headphones on in the midst of an audio tour. But he has an urge to touch it, and he rests his hand on the tomb.