The Dinosaur Feather(131)

Anna nodded.

Shortly afterward Anna put on her army jacket and pulled the hood up.

“You’re wearing that?” Karen stared at Anna in disbelief. Anna zipped her jacket up to her chin and flashed her yellow eyes at Karen.

“Yep,” she replied. Then she left.


Anna recognized Professor Freeman immediately. He stood outside the church, next to an impeccably dressed younger man, digging his shoe into the gravel like a child. Anna approached with caution and tried to hide inside her jacket, until she remembered that Freeman didn’t know what she looked like. She positioned herself fifty feet away from him, and when he entered the church she followed and took a seat in the pew opposite, two rows behind, where she could keep an eye on him.

Birgit and Nanna Helland were standing beside the coffin. Anna watched Mrs. Helland. She smiled feebly, she hugged some mourners, put her hand on her daughter’s neck, smiled again, spoke to someone. Suddenly she looked straight at Anna. For two seconds. Deeply into her eyes, eyes filled with pain, before she quickly averted them. Mrs. Helland never looked at Anna again. Not once.

Søren appeared next to her.

“Good to see you,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder as though she were a prisoner who had been allowed out on leave and who had defied everyone’s expectations by returning to the prison on time. Anna nodded.

“Hello,” she sulked.

Søren glanced at her.

“Any news?” His eyes scanned the church restlessly. Did he think she had solved his murder-mystery overnight? Anna leaned toward him.

“The butler did it,” she whispered. “In the library.”

Søren glared at her. His eyes were cold. Without a word, he walked to the back of the church and sat down. He didn’t look at her again. Not even when Anna tried to catch his eye a little later. Honestly. Had he no sense of humor? The organ started.

Anna was bored stiff during the sermon. She spotted her flower arrangement and was relieved flowers and cards were delivered separately. This meant Mrs. Helland would never make the connection between her card and the pathetic-looking bunch of flowers she had bought. She struggled to keep her sweaty feet still. The church floor was mired in dirty water and gravel, and the room was steaming up. They sang. Anna tried to focus on the coffin, tried to reflect. Nanna’s ponytail bopped up and down in the front row, and when the music paused, the girl’s heart-rending sobbing could be clearly heard. Anna looked at Professor Freeman several times. She couldn’t help it. At first, she tried to be discreet, but as he started shifting in his seat and looking around; she stared at him openly. The trouble that man had caused! A small, insignificant old-timer in an oversized parka. If the world’s scientists could simply let everything he said go in one ear and out the other, Freeman’s scientific position would have dried up and dropped off like an umbilical cord. Anna would have written her dissertation on another subject, she would have had a different supervisor, and might barely have noticed that Professor Helland had died. She would merely have read his obituary in the university newsletter, and Johannes might still be alive. She shuddered.

Dr. Tybjerg! Shit! Anna jerked so violently that the man sitting next to her raised his eyebrows. She clasped her hand over her mouth. Jesus Christ, she had forgotten about Dr. Tybjerg. How could she? She had seen him last on Thursday and today was Saturday. He had been on his own for two days. How could she be so thoughtless? She kicked the pew in irritation. Fortunately, the organ was playing at full force. The man next to her gave her a look. She was surprised at how contrite she felt. The image of Tybjerg’s helplessness burned onto her retina, the way he had wolfed down the sandwich she had brought. She meant to bring him more food, a clean towel, a blanket, ask him if he wanted her to wash his clothes. But she had forgotten him. Then again, it was hard to remember other people’s existence when you were so busy contemplating your own navel. She kicked the pew again. This time, the woman in front turned around and glared at her, and the man next to her made no attempt to disguise his disapproval. The organ played on. Then there was silence. Anna was mortified. She turned to catch Søren’s eye. He ignored her deliberately. Even Freeman was looking away, first at his hands, then at the stained glass window above the altar. Nanna rose. She was sobbing and her ponytail swung youthfully while she spoke, her voice faint, but composed. Her eulogy was fumbling and a little banal, but then again how old was she? Eighteen? Suddenly, it all hit Anna, and she rested her head on her knees. Why am I so self-centered? she thought. I would never give my dad such a eulogy. I would never stand up and say something banal, youthful, and very loving to him if he died. I would be far too busy feeling sorry for myself in the front pew, furious he had had the audacity to leave me, how dare he? Nanna stood tall and proud, looking vulnerable. Anna sat in her army jacket with gall in her veins. She couldn’t even take care of Tybjerg. The coffin was carried out. Nanna was one of the pall-bearers, Mrs. Helland another and behind them were four men around Helland’s age. When the coffin had been placed in the hearse, the church bells began to toll. People stopped and bowed their heads. When the crowd dispersed at last, Anna made herself scarce. It was only a little past two o’clock. She caught a local train and got off at Nordhavn. She shopped at Netto, tossing groceries into her basket. She’d rarely been so angry with herself. She had forgotten Tybjerg. For two whole days.