The Dinosaur Feather(7)

“Gho whay,” he repeated, a little louder. Some froth dripped from his mouth and disappeared into the darkness.

“You want me to go away?” Anna asked.

Helland nodded. “Yes, go away,” he said, very clearly this time.

Anna had left him there. Her heart had pounded all the way up to the second floor where she let herself into the photocopier room, which faced the parking lot. She stood in the dark window, watching Professor Helland. He stayed there for a while. Then he shuddered deeply, jerked his head, and shook first one, then his other leg and disappeared around the corner to the main parking lot.

She decided to tell Johannes about the incident the next day, and, to begin with, he looked annoyed with her for breaking their tacit agreement not to discuss Helland. But then, to Anna’s huge surprise, he admitted that he, too, had noticed that Helland wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Johannes and Helland were working on a paper based on Johannes’s dissertation and, to be honest, Helland hadn’t displayed his usual professional acuity.

All of a sudden Anna said: “And what’s that thing he’s got in his eye?”

Johannes looked blank.

“He’s got something in his eye,” Anna said, pointing to the corner of her own right eye. “A small hard pouch of some kind. Do you think he’s ill?”

Johannes shrugged. Anna had been unable to figure out if Helland really did have something wrong with his eye, because the only times she ever caught a glimpse of him were when he hurried down the corridor, inevitably leaving mayhem in his wake, roaring “morning!” at the open door to their office before disappearing into the elevator.

Johannes bent over his keyboard again, and Anna decided to drop the subject.


Anna had moved to Copenhagen in 1999 when she was accepted into the biology program at the university. Jens, her father, was already living there, and he had helped her find the apartment in Florsgade. Jens and Cecilie had divorced when Anna was eight. Anna had stayed on the island of Fyn with her mother, in the village of Brænderup, just outside Odense, the largest city on the island. The village consisted of around fifty houses; the community was close-knit, and it was a lovely place to grow up. For years Anna was uncertain as to whether or not her parents had permanently split because Jens, like some hopeful suitor, never stopped visiting them. Anna knew it had been a source of friction to the girlfriends Jens dated after Cecilie; not that Jens and Anna spent much time discussing their feelings, but he had once remarked that it happened to be the case. His girlfriends resented that he would rather spend Christmas with Cecilie (and Anna), would rather go on vacation with Cecilie (and Anna), and never forgot Cecilie’s birthday (but managed, on two occasions, to forget Anna’s). Anna knew her father loved her, but he worshipped Cecilie. Anyone could see that.

Anna had once told her best friend Karen that she thought parents liked each other better than they liked their children. They had both been ten years old at the time. They were building a secret hideaway, and Anna had asked Karen why grownups seemed to like each other more, and why children seemed to come second, and Karen had said that was just not true. Karen’s mom said she loved Karen more than anyone on the planet. That grownups could choose whether or not they wanted to be together, but that you loved children all the time, for as long as you lived, and that you never regretted having them. Karen and Anna had almost ended up having a row. In the middle of it all, Jens called them into the kitchen for toast and chocolate milkshakes. Jens and Cecilie must have been divorced at that point but, nevertheless, Jens was there, in the kitchen, reading the newspaper by the window. And making toast.

The girls came in and Karen said to Jens: “You don’t really like Cecilie more than Anna, do you?” He lowered the newspaper, appearing shocked. Anna was small with dark hair; Karen’s hair was blond and curly.

“Why on earth do you want to know that?” he had replied, and Anna had blushed. She hadn’t wanted Jens to know about this, not at all, she hadn’t wanted Karen to ask him. Anna glared defiantly at the tablecloth. She couldn’t remember what happened next, only that she refused to play with Karen for the rest of that day and that she took back the special stamp she had given her, even though Karen said she couldn’t do that. However, that evening Jens told her something. When Anna had been born, Cecilie had been very ill, back problems of some sort. She was in great pain and had been in and out of hospital, Jens explained, and even though Anna only weighed six pounds, Cecilie hadn’t been allowed to lift her. That had made her feel really sad. Jens tucked Anna into bed and kissed her forehead.