The Last Fix

    There
was something special about this customer, she was aware of that at once, even
though he wasn't doing very much - that is to say she noticed the door open,
but as the person in question went to the holiday brochure shelf instead of
walking straight to the counter, Elise continued to do what she was doing
without an upward glance. She sat absorbed in the image on the screen, trying
to organize a trip to Copenhagen for a family of three while the mother on the
telephone dithered between flying there and back or squeezing their car on to
Stena Saga and taking the ferry crossing so that they were mobile when they
arrived.

    Elise
looked at Katrine and established that she, too, was busy. The headphones with
the mike held Katrine's unruly hair in place, although a blonde lock had fallen
over the slender bridge of her nose, and she was concentrating on the computer
screen. Katrine had that characteristic furrow in her forehead, which she
always had when she concentrated. Her eyes shifted from keyboard to screen, her
long dark eyelashes moving slowly up and down. Like an elegant fan, Elise
thought, studying Katrine's face as she bent over her work, her profile with
the somewhat pronounced nose above reddened lips, and that top lip of hers
which had such an effect on men because, on one side, it was a little swollen.

    Now
and then Elise felt she could have been Katrine's mother. Katrine reminded her
of her eldest girl, except that Katrine was much more spontaneous. She was
quicker to laugh than her daughter. Nevertheless every so often Elise felt it
was her daughter sitting there, and Katrine was probably aware of this, she
thought. The unnecessary attention might even have annoyed her.

    As
the customer approached the counter a few moments later Elise put down the
telephone, looked up and prepared to greet him. But when the man ignored her,
preferring to stand in front of Katrine, Elise returned to what she had been
doing, noticing that Katrine had sent the customer a friendly peek and uttered
an automatic 'Hello' long before finishing her on-screen work. Elise also had
time to think that she would have a word with her about that bad habit. She
formulated the admonition in her head:
Don't say 'Hello' until you have eye
contact with the customer. The customer always feels important. The customer
perceives himself as the centre of the universe. If one divides one's
attentions, the customer will become annoyed. This is quite a normal reaction
.

    From
the corner of her eye Elise could see Katrine taking off her headphones and
saying something she didn't quite catch. What happened afterwards is what
stayed in her mind. The customer was a relatively tall man, equipped with what
Elise liked to call vulgar 'totem signals'. He was wearing a black leather
waistcoat over a sunburned bare upper torso. His jeans were worn and had holes
in the knees. Even though he must have been over forty his long, grizzled hair
was tied up in a tasteless ponytail; he wore a large gold earring in one ear
and when he went to grab Katrine Elise saw an enormous scar on the man's lower
arm. In short, this man was a thug.

    The
thug launched himself over the counter and made a grab at Katrine, who,
panic-stricken, kicked her chair away from the counter, rolled backwards and
slammed into the wall. 'Call the police,' Katrine screamed as the chair tipped
up and she crashed down on to the floor with her legs in the air. Elise also
had time to think how ridiculous she seemed - lying on her back in the chair
with all her hair in front of her face and her legs thrashing wildly, like a
dumb blonde in a 1960s romantic comedy. While she was thinking the words
ridiculous
and
comedy,
Elise jumped off her chair and stared at the
thug, an authoritative expression on her face which, afterwards, she could hardly
credit herself with having had the wherewithal to muster in such a situation.
She had never been robbed before, and that was the thought that went through
her mind now:
My God, we're being robbed. How will we survive the
psychological repercussions?

    At
that moment the brutal man seemed to sense Elise's presence in the room. He
flashed her a quick glance and then re-focused his attention on the blonde on
the floor. He seemed to take a decision, seized the counter as if intending to
jump over it. Then Elise broke the silence. In a loud, piercing voice she said:
'I beg your pardon, young man!' She was to smile at that line many times later.
But however incongruous it sounded at that moment, it worked. The thug stared
at her again and hesitated. In the end - it must have been after a few seconds,
though it seemed like several minutes - he changed his mind and headed for the
door with a wild look in his eyes as he shouted to the blonde girl struggling
to her knees and holding her head. 'You do as I say, right? Have you got that?'

    The
door slammed behind him.

    Elise
stood gaping at the door. It looked no different from how it had been a few
seconds ago, it was the same door in the same room, yet it was being seen
through different eyes, judged by a different consciousness. 'What was that?'
she managed to exclaim, bewildered, numb and not entirely sure what had in fact
happened.