The Dinosaur Feather (32 page)

Anna planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t do what?” she fumed. “I’m not doing anything. You’ve been spying on me, following me, and behaving very strangely. And now you say that it doesn’t matter. You dropped off the face of the earth for ten years. That does matter! I can’t have people just disappearing like that, it’s a rotten thing to do!” She was jabbing her finger at him now and her eyes turned shiny with anger. Troels’s face hardened.

“You were my best friend,” he almost whispered. “I trusted you. You and Karen and your parents. And that night you behaved just like my dad. And you know it. You were vicious.” Troels clenched his jaw.

Anna simmered with rage and knew she was about to lose her temper again. She only restrained herself because the image of the World’s Most Irritating Detective appeared on her retina.

“Listen, why don’t we say good-bye now and meet up after my present my dissertation?” she forced herself to say in a controlled voice. “Karen and you are welcome to attend it, it’s a public event,” she added and glanced at him. “Only I’m a bit pressed for time now, Troels. I’m sorry. I want to get on. On my own. I’ve got some things I need to process. And I’ve a train to catch.”

For a moment his face looked outraged and she thought he was shaking, but then he relaxed.

“Okay,” he acquiesced. “It’s all right. I understand you’re under pressure. First your supervisor, then Johannes. That can’t have been easy.”

Anna thawed a little. “Hey,” she said, reaching out for his hand. “I’d really like to see you, Troels. In a couple of weeks, all right?” She tried to calm things down and remembered Søren telling her to be good. She had almost managed it.

“I’m going this way,” Troels said weakly, and pointed toward the intersection. “I don’t live far away.”

“Okay,” Anna said. She hugged him and their embrace felt hard and bony. Anna gripped his arm and briefly held him at a distance.

“Friends again?” she asked.

“Of course,” Troels smiled. “Bad timing,” he added. “I just couldn’t help myself when I saw you this morning. I had been thinking about you and then, presto, you get on my bus. I should have waited.” He moved a lock of Anna’s hair from her forehead with his gloved hand.

“See you, gorgeous,” he said and crossed the road. Anna looked after him.

Lily was in high spirits all the way to Odense. They had found seats in a family carriage and the first thing she did was empty her rucksack of toys out on the table. Her cries of delight quickly attracted two other children and soon Lily was handing round teddies, dolls, and Lego bricks. Anna watched her daughter from her window seat. Then the train attendant arrived with her trolley, Anna bought hot dogs and two cartons of juice, and when they had eaten their lunch, they were practically at their destination.

At Odense railway station, Anna was struck by how everything had changed and yet it remained the same. There was a multitude of shops now and the place looked more like a shopping center than a station. An escalator had been installed, and there was a new parking lot at the station entrance. Nevertheless, she was overcome with nostalgia.

While Anna and Lily walked—at a painfully slow pace—along the pavement, she wondered if she knew anyone in this city. Several of her and Karen’s old school friends were bound to live here, but she couldn’t recall the names of any of them. Karen’s mother still lived here, she believed. Anna sighed. Karen was coming over tonight.

Anna had printed out a map and had been delighted to discover that Ulla Bodelsen lived within walking distance of the train station, in a narrow street called Rytterstræde. Lily toddled along with enthusiasm in her snowsuit, and it wasn’t until she slipped and fell that she insisted on being carried. Anna sweated. What the hell did she think she was doing? Ulla Bodelsen had to be around eighty years old and bound to be senile and confused. And how many children had passed through her hands since Anna? Anna decided she was an idiot for thinking this was a good idea. She made a mental note to buy flowers for the funeral tomorrow.

Her cell rang. She shifted Lily on to her hip and managed to retrieve it from her pocket. It was a man from the examination board confirming the exact time for her dissertation defense. When the conversation had ended, Lily said: “Was that my daddy?”

Anna was astonished. “No, darling,” she replied.

“Don’t I have a daddy?” she wanted to know. Their eyes were very close and Anna could feel Lily’s warm breath on her chin.

“Yes, darling. You have a daddy. His name is Thomas, and he lives far away. In Sweden. He’s a doctor and he makes people better.”

“Andreas’s daddy is called Mikkel,” Lily said. “I want a daddy, too.”

“Yes, I know,” Anna said.

“Poor Daddy,” Lily said and squirmed to get down. She had spotted something shiny on the pavement. “Look, Mom, gold!” she called out, ecstatically.

“Why poor Daddy?” Anna asked.

“Look, Mom. Real gold.” Lily picked up a bottle top of golden foil. Someone had smoothed it out and it looked like a small sun. “Gold. Gold!”

Anna gave up.

Ulla Bodelsen lived in a ground floor apartment in a small cobblestoned street. Anna hesitated before she rang the doorbell and started sweating when she heard quick footsteps behind the door. Lily marched straight in when it was opened.

“Look, we found gold,” she informed the old lady. “What’s your name?”

The elderly, but well-groomed woman bent down, cupped Lily’s face in her hands and studied her closely.

“Yes, it’s clear to see,” she said, enigmatically “My name’s Ulla. What’s yours?”

“Lily Marie Nor,” Lily said with emphasis. “Please may I have some squash?”

Ulla Bodelsen laughed and looked at Anna.

“Hello,” she said, warmly. Anna shook her hand. Ulla Bodelsen’s eyes were green and bright, her hair was cut in a short, modern style, and her skin surprisingly smooth. A kayak was leaning against the wall behind her.

“You’re a canoeist?” Anna exclaimed, amazed.

“Yes, well, I kayak,” Ulla Bodelsen replied, patting its fiberglass hull as she led Anna into the living room. “I retired, reluctantly I admit, some . . . twelve years ago or thereabouts. When I turned sixty-two. The thought of doing nothing was rather alien to me.” She laughed. “I loved my work, you see. But now I’m extremely pleased that I did. In fact, I’m busier now than I ever was.” She laughed again. “I’ve trained as a swimming instructor. I teach beginners three times a week, and I’ve become hooked on kayaking.”

The walls in the room were white, the furniture stylish and simple, and on the wall hung a poster from the 1996 Copenhagen Jazz Festival. Ulla Bodelsen gestured toward a black sofa and Anna sat down. The old woman had baked rolls and had made tea and there was a bowl of rock candy.

“Look what I made for you,” she said to Lily, peeling plastic wrap off a plate and handing her a selection of apple slices, melon, a peeled mandarin, three Gummi bears, and some mixed nuts. While Lily inspected her treat, Ulla Bodelsen fetched a toybox, which Lily explored with glee.

“Help yourself,” Ulla Bodelsen said to Anna, nodding toward the coffee table. “I’ve just got to get something.” Anna buttered a roll and added milk to her tea. What kind of old woman would Cecilie become? Would she be like Maggie? Like Ulla Bodelsen? Bursting with life and joy even though time was running out? Anna found that very hard to imagine.

The older woman returned with a white envelope, which she placed on the table. They ate rolls and drank tea for a long time, and they discussed the communes in Brænderup, which now had either been knocked down or renovated beyond recognition. They even discovered that one of Anna’s old teachers turned out to be married to Ulla’s nephew.

Eventually she said, “The envelope is for you.” She looked at Anna. “I don’t know precisely why you’re here, and . . .” she hesitated. “And you don’t need to explain anything if you don’t want to. That’s quite all right.” She hesitated again. “I can’t figure out how I could have ever met you before, but after last night, after we had spoken, I went through my files.” Ulla gestured to the dining table at the other end of the room. On top of it stood four cardboard boxes with metal edges. “Our conversation kept troubling me. I found the photo at the bottom of the third box. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of snapshots in those boxes. Of children and their parents during all my years as a health visitor. And there was one of a father and a child whom I remember, Jens and . . . Sara. Some corner of my mind remembered that photo, and I found it.” She looked away.

“The health visitor, who had initially been assigned to the family, moved to Greenland when her husband was offered a job up there, and I took over when Sara was around seven months old. The mother had injured her back during the birth and had been in chronic pain ever since. She had had several operations and had been hospitalized repeatedly for long periods and whenever I visited, the father was always alone with the baby.”

“Is there a record? Did you make notes about . . . Sara?”

“Yes, and that’s what triggered my memory last night. I remembered that Sara’s record was missing,” Ulla said. “When I took over, everything was in a state of flux. We had just been merged with Odense Nursing School, and the result was chaos. Before my first visit to the family, I looked for her record, but I couldn’t find it. When I explained this to a colleague, she convinced me that my predecessor must have left it with the family with instructions to pass it on to their new health visitor. But when I asked for the record, the father said it had never been given to him. So together we created a new one. Sara was thriving and gaining weight, and there was really very little for me to do. During what would be my first and only visit, Jens was delighted to share his good news with me. Sara’s mother had had another operation, at a private clinic somewhere, in England I think it was, and it had been very successful. That was the day he gave me the photograph.” She nodded toward the envelope. “I was very moved when I left. I looked forward to visiting the family three months later, to finally meeting Sara’s mother, and I hoped it would all work out for them. But I never saw them again. Jens called to say there was no need for me to come.”

“And you never got an explanation?”

“No,” Ulla replied. “Life moved on. New children, new family histories.”

“The other health visitor . . . what was her name?” Anna wanted to know.

“Grethe Nygaard. She’s dead. I saw her death notice in the local paper three years ago. She died in Greenland.”

Anna cast a sidelong glance at the envelope.

“Open the envelope, Anna,” Ulla said, gently. Anna reached for the envelope and her hands were shaking. I’m going to die, she thought. She opened the envelope and carefully pulled out a picture. She looked at the back of the photo.

“Jens and Sara Bella Nor, August 1978” it read. Anna stared at it. Then she turned it over. It had faded slightly, but only a little. The background showed hessian wallpaper and part of a brown window frame. There were two people in the picture. A very young Jens with masses of hair and a beard. He was looking into the camera and his smile was crooked, but his expression was dark and mournful. On his lap sat a small girl in a pinafore dress and a diaper. She was the spitting image of Lily. The tears started rolling down Anna’s cheeks.

“There can be no doubt,” Ulla said carefully. “You’re like two peas in a pod.” She looked gravely at Anna. “And I swear on my Hippocratic oath: the little girl in that photo, that one,” she pointed, “her name was Sara. I wrote her name on the back of the photo. I’ve always been meticulous.”

Ulla Bodelsen got up and sat down next to Anna on the sofa. Lily was absorbed in play under the dining table where she had lined up the teddies and the dolls. Anna wanted to get up, but instead she leaned into the other woman and Ulla put her strong, old arms around her.

Anna didn’t want to leave, but Lily had started rubbing her eyes so Anna decided the time had come to say good-bye. She returned the photo to the envelope and put it in her bag. Then she dressed Lily in her snowsuit and hugged Ulla Bodelsen. They didn’t speak much. Anna said thank you and the old woman said take good care of yourself. Lily wanted to be carried, and just as they boarded the train to Copenhagen, she fell asleep on Anna’s shoulder. Anna was soaked with sweat. She settled Lily across two seats, unzipped her snowsuit, and bought herself a large cup of tea with milk. Soon she found herself ringing Jens without having decided what to say to him.

“Jens.” He sounded tired.

“Dad, it’s me,” Anna said.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“Why haven’t either of you called me?” she asked, as calmly as she could manage. “Have you decided to gang up on your
only
daughter?”

“Anna,” her father said. “I’ve called you lots of times, but you won’t answer. Your behavior is ridiculous. Honestly. You’ve no reason to scream at your mother and lecture me. We’re only trying to help you. You’re stressed, we’re aware of that, and Cecilie and I think it’s crazy that Lily can’t be with us, with Cecilie, until your dissertation defense. But she’s your child and, of course, we can’t make the decision for you. We just don’t understand. Surely it would be much better for Lily to be with people who’ve got time for her, wouldn’t it, Anna, my love? But if you don’t want to—” He would have carried on talking, but Anna interrupted him.

“I love you, Dad, do you know that?” she said hoarsely. “But you’re spineless.” The tears forced their way out. “Not everything Cecilie says or does is the law. And right now Cecilie isn’t good for Lily or me. And I think you know that. I’ve been so unhappy these last two years because of Thomas, and I don’t know how I would have managed without your and Cecilie’s help. But you’ve got to stop now. Both of you. Lily and I need to be mother and daughter; there may only be two of us, Jens, but we’re a complete family. And you need to leave us alone. You can be Lily’s grandparents who visit on Sundays and bring sweets, and you can borrow her during summer vacation. But Lily’s my daughter, and I’m a good mother. Not perfect, but I want to be her mother. Do you understand?” She was hissing now from trying to keep her voice down. There was silence down the other end.