Miriam Munch was weak. She had hoped that it would pass. That she would manage to stay away, but all she had done these last few days was think about him. His face. Ziggy. And now she was here, in some café in Grünerløkka, feeling a mixture of giddy anticipation and guilt. A secret rendezvous. A place she would not normally visit. Where no one she knew might suddenly turn up. Marion was with Grannie and Rolf again, but Miriam Munch did not feel bad about that, because her daughter loved being with Grannie. The problem was Johannes.
One morning a few days ago, she had almost blurted it out. She hated this dishonesty. This sneaking about. She had to say something. About how she felt. They had been in bed, both of them had woken up early, Marion had yet to get up, and Miriam had decided the time was now – We need to talk – but then his mobile had rung – the hospital, please could he come in earlier; and the moment had passed.
Miriam ordered another cup of tea and went back to her table. A quarter past. He was late. She had been embarrassingly early, eager as a schoolgirl on her first date; her skin had been tingling as she had travelled here on the tram, almost incapable of sitting still, but now that she had been here for a while she was starting to feel a little awkward. She felt as if everyone could tell from looking at her that she was waiting for someone, someone she should not be waiting for. Miriam picked up a newspaper in order to have something to do, to hide behind, and started flicking through it, initially without much interest.
The girl in the woods, of course. The paper was mostly about that. The girl they had found naked, in bizarre circumstances, a kind of ritual in the woods on the far side of Hurumlandet. Camilla, that was her name. Camilla Green. She had been living in some sort of hostel for teenagers. Miriam put the paper down again. She could not bear to think about it. It was just too awful.
That must have been why he had left Marion’s birthday party early. Her father. Because they had found this girl. She started feeling guilty about him, too, all the years when she had treated him so badly. Blamed him for the divorce. A naked girl on feathers on the ground, surrounded by candles in the middle of the forest. Now she wished she had been more understanding. No wonder he had had to leave. Miriam got up and ordered a beer; she was not in the habit of drinking in the afternoon, but she needed it today to steady her nerves.
By the time he finally arrived, Miriam had managed to drink a second beer and was starting to get annoyed with him. She had even considered leaving, but her anger evaporated the moment he and his gentle smile appeared in the doorway and he sat down on a chair on the other side of the table.
‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ Ziggy said.
‘That’s all right.’ Miriam smiled.
‘Thank you. Again, I’m so sorry. Are we drinking beer? Would you like another one?’
Miriam wavered. Three beers this early in the afternoon? She had promised to pick Marion up after dinner, but her daughter probably would not mind another sleepover at Grannie’s. And Johannes was working late – again.
‘Why not?’
Ziggy went up to the counter to order.
It came over her again. Another surge of guilty conscience.
What did she really think she was doing here?
She was happy. Wasn’t she?
Johannes, Marion and her. Miriam had never imagined it would be any other way. The thought had never even crossed her mind. Not until six weeks ago.
Ziggy carefully carried two beers to their table and sat down again.
‘I really am very sorry for being so late. My sister called, and – family stuff, I don’t want to bore you with it.’
‘You’re not boring me, I’d like to hear about it,’ Miriam said, taking a sip of her beer.
‘Really?’ Ziggy said. He sounded a little surprised.
‘Absolutely. We have to have something to talk about, don’t we?’
She winked at him, and the young man smiled back. Ever since they met, it had been like that between them. No awkward silences. Easy.
‘What?’ Ziggy smiled, looking at her.
‘No, nothing.’ She laughed.
‘Oh, go on,’ the young man teased her.
‘No, seriously. It was nothing. So tell me. Your sister? Has something happened? How many brothers and sisters do you have?’
He leaned back in his chair and studied her, as if he were thinking about something. Sizing her up.
‘You don’t know who I am, do you?’ he asked.
‘What do you mean? Of course I know who you are.’
‘No, not like that,’ Ziggy said. ‘You don’t know who my family is? You really don’t?’
Miriam did not understand what he was talking about.
‘No, you’ve never talked about them. It hasn’t come up, I mean, we’ve only just …’
Miriam got tangled up in her own words, and she blushed.
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Ziggy smiled. ‘I don’t know quite what we’re … I mean, what do you want? Because I know what I want.’
‘And what do you want?’ Miriam said, not quite daring to look at him.
‘I think you know,’ he said, suddenly putting his hand on hers for a moment.
She had turned her hand to stroke his when the door behind them opened and she automatically snatched it back, though the face that appeared did not belong to anyone she knew.
‘Sorry,’ Ziggy said. ‘I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.’
‘No, no, you’re not. It’s just that, well, you know how it is.’
Miriam looked at him. Ziggy nodded back to indicate that he understood completely. It was what they had talked about that night in his flat. He had already told her it would not be a problem that she had a child.
‘So, your family?’ Miriam said, changing the subject.
‘Yes, were you serious? You really don’t know who my family is?’
Miriam must have looked very confused, because the young man laughed briefly.
‘You have a sister,’ she said. ‘That’s all I know. You haven’t said much else. Should I be embarrassed about something? Was I really that drunk that night? Did you tell me things I don’t remember?’
He laughed again.
‘Embarrassed, no, God, no, I’m just relieved. It’s rare for people not to know about my family. Let’s drink to that.’
Miriam was becoming genuinely intrigued. She had clearly missed something.
‘You have to tell me now,’ she insisted.
‘It’s nothing bad, I promise,’ Ziggy said. ‘In fact, it’s quite nice not to be thought of as one of them. Like I said, I think this is a first.’
‘I want to know everything about you,’ Miriam said. ‘To be honest, I think about you nearly all the time.’
She could not believe she had just said that. It had to be the alcohol talking. She started to blush again, but it could not be helped.
‘I want to know everything about you, too.’ Ziggy leaned across the table towards her. ‘And I think about you, too. Perhaps I shouldn’t, and I don’t know what we’re going to do about it, but that’s the way it is.’
It was beating faster now, her heart under her jumper, as he smiled at her and gently touched her hand again.
Damn it, Miriam.
What do you think you’re doing?
A secret rendezvous?
‘So who is this mysterious family of yours?’ she asked bashfully.
‘What else do you know about me?’ Ziggy smiled, leaning back in his chair.
‘Your surname is Simonsen,’ Miriam began.
‘Ziggy Simonsen, that’s me.’
The name rang a faint bell. Simonsen?
‘I wasn’t christened Ziggy, of course. Jon-Sigvard. That’s what they called me. Sigvard had to be in there somewhere. Family tradition.’
He smiled faintly at her under his dark fringe.
‘Carl-Sigvard Simonsen?’
Ziggy nodded.
‘He is your father? The billionaire?’
‘Yep.’ Ziggy nodded.
‘Sorry,’ Miriam said with a small smile.
‘Sorry? Why on earth do you think you have to apologize?’ He smiled, and raised his beer to her again.
‘I don’t read the gossip columns,’ Miriam said by way of apology. ‘Or enough newspapers, unfortunately.’
‘Hey, I’m pleased.’ The young man smiled again. ‘I could meet you as myself, and not like some …’
He seemed lost in his own thoughts now, as if something burdened him, and a darkness she did not recognize spread across his bright, open face.
‘So, you’re a rich kid?’ Miriam said to lighten the mood. ‘My ship has come in.’
He came back to her. He smiled once more and pinned his gorgeous blue eyes on her.
‘Does that mean what I think it means?’
‘What?’
‘That we are doing this?’
‘Doing what?’ Miriam said coquettishly, though she knew only too well what Ziggy was implying.
‘You and me?’ he said, caressing her hand again.
This time she let her hand stay where it was. His lovely hand against hers.
‘I think I need another beer,’ she whispered.