The Dinosaur Feather(42)

“Bye, see you tomorrow,” he said and gave them a pale smile.


Cecilie called Troels’s parents one day to tell them she could use some help around the garden and offered Troels fifteen kroner an hour to do the work. While Cecilie spoke to Troels’s father, Anna was in the kitchen, listening to her mother’s high-pitched chirping. Cecilie slammed down the telephone at the end of the conversation and when she joined Anna in the kitchen, she smiled stiffly and smoothed her dress.

“Done,” she said. “Five hours a week. Thank God.” She flopped down on the kitchen bench next to Anna.

“Phew,” she exhaled and smoothed her dress again.


One evening, when Anna was twelve years old, she overheard her parents talking about Troels. It was the late 1980s, and by now Jens had officially moved to Copenhagen but he visited them constantly. They had just said goodnight to her, but before she fell asleep Anna remembered she had forgotten to give her mother a letter from school and got out of bed.

Halfway down the stairs, she heard Jens ask: “What makes you think he hits him? You have to be able to prove it, Cecilie. It’s a serious charge.”

A pause followed. Then Anna heard Cecilie cry.

“I want to help, but I can’t!” she sobbed. “That beautiful, fragile boy. Look at him! He’s suffering, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.”

Jens said something that Anna couldn’t hear, and Cecilie replied: “I know, Jens.” She sounded irritated now. “I’m aware of that. You’ve told me a thousand times. I just can’t bear it that he has to live like that.”

Cecilie blew her nose. Anna was getting cold on the stairs and hoped that one of her parents would notice her. That they would carry her to the living room and let her fall asleep under a blanket while their voices grew muffled, just like when she was little. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. Right now she hated Troels. Her parents seemed to prefer him to her. She felt alone in the world. They started discussing Jens’s job. Eventually Anna went back to bed.


One summer day Troels dropped by unexpectedly. He seemed happy. His parents had gone to Ebeltoft to pick up a new car and wouldn’t be back until the evening. Cecilie and Jens were entertaining old college friends, and the lawn was teeming with children. The sun was shining, there was iced tea and sandwiches, and swallows were dive-bombing the garden. Troels watched the chaos, rather intimidated; he hadn’t been expecting this. Two boys, Troels’s age, were playing football, but Troels didn’t want to join in. He sipped tea and Cecilie introduced him to everyone.

“This is Troels. He’s goes to school with Anna.”

“He’s gorgeous,” Anna heard Cecilie’s friends whisper.

Jens decided they should all play baseball. Everyone leapt from their chairs; four large stones were found, along with a bat and a yellow tennis ball, and two teams picked. The mood in the backyard was light-hearted and boisterous. Anna and Karen rolled their eyes at the silly grown-ups. They were both wearing makeup, but none of the adults had said anything. It was Troels’s turn to bat. He said, “I don’t want to”—not very loudly, but loud enough for Anna to hear it, and she was some distance away. Troels sent her an apologetic smile.

Jens’s old friend, Mogens, who was bowling, encouraged Troels.

“You can do it,” he said warmly. He positioned himself behind Troels and guided his arms in a horizontal arc through the air.

“Keep the bat high,” he instructed him. “Don’t let it drop.” He tapped Troels’s drooping elbow. “And watch the ball.”

Troels’s arm was still limp.

“Come on! Concentrate. It’s not that hard!” Mogens called out. Anna instinctively glanced at her mother. Cecilie wanted to say something. She raised her hands as if to object. Next to Troels, Mogens was a gentle giant.

“What do you think this is, eh?” Mogens roared with laughter and grabbed Troels’s white, freckled arm and dangled it. “Flab?” he chuckled. Troels looked vacantly at Mogens, who was ducking and diving like a boxer, throwing mock punches at Troels.

“Come on, son, show us what you’re made of!”

Troels raised the bat and hit Mogens over the head. Clonk. Mogens clutched his head. Everyone went very quiet.

“What did you do that for?” Mogens gasped.

Troels ran off, and Cecilie chased after him. They had been gone for nearly an hour when Anna decided to look for them. She found them in the back seat of the car. Troels looked red-eyed and lay with his head in Cecilie’s lap. She stroked his hair. He didn’t want to go back to the party, even though Cecilie assured him that it would be all right. That Jens would definitely have explained to Mogens why Troels had hit him. This puzzled Anna. Troels refused point-blank. He wanted to go home. Cecilie hugged him, and she and Anna watched Troels ride his bike unsteadily down the road before his speed increased and he was gone.