Miriam Munch was standing in the street outside the red-brick apartment block, having second thoughts. She had been so sure. What she had felt the night before, she had never experienced anything like it, but after brunch with Johannes other thoughts started sneaking into her mind. She was not worried about Johannes, no; she was thinking about Marion. Poor little Marion, how would she take it? After all, she had done nothing wrong. Why should a lovely little six-year-old girl have to go through this, her whole world falling apart, because her mother was in love with another man?
Miriam glanced at the watch Johannes had given her, and felt guilty again. Johannes had made such an effort, taken time off work, cooked them a lovely brunch, suggested that they go out for dinner, bought her a present. Yes, he had had an agenda because he wanted to go to Sydney, but so what? She glanced quickly up at the building again, at the flat where she had spent the night not that long ago.
Eight o’clock. That was the time it started. The meeting. Atlantis Farms. A laboratory in Hurum that used animals for illegal experiments. She still had time to change her mind. She had not signed her life away. She could go back on the tram. Ride it all the way home. Put on a dress. Go out for dinner with Johannes after all – no, he had volunteered for a night shift now. She could take the car. Pick Marion up. Watch a film or something. Snow White. Or Sleeping Beauty. One of those princess films six-year-old girls could not get enough of. She could almost feel Marion’s warm body under the blanket on the sofa. Little fingers in a bowl of popcorn. Eager, naive blue eyes fixed on the screen.
‘Don’t eat the apple, it’s been poisoned!’
Miriam smiled to herself and found a cigarette in her coat pocket. She lit it and tightened the scarf around her neck.
A raid?
Years ago, she would not have thought twice about it. Never wondered whether taking part was wise. Miriam Munch hated injustice. Vile people in positions of power who exploited others, be it people or animals, to increase their profits. She had loved her time with Amnesty International. Getting up in the morning, feeling that what she did had some kind of value, that she could make a difference. But then, at the age of nineteen she had had Marion, and she had worried about her ability to handle motherhood, fearing that she might not be good enough, and so she had devoted all her time to the little girl.
Sod it.
There had to be limits.
Atlantis Farms. Helpless animals trapped in cages, subjected to pain every day, only so that people who already had far too much money could have more.
She wanted to take part.
Miriam threw the cigarette on the ground and quickly marched up the stairs to the second-floor flat.
‘Hi.’ Ziggy smiled as he opened the door. ‘I was starting to think you weren’t coming.’
‘Am I too late?’ Miriam said, hanging up her coat and scarf on a peg in the hallway.
‘Oh no.’ Ziggy showed her into the living room. ‘We started at seven, not that it matters.’
‘I thought you said eight?’ Miriam said.
‘Doesn’t matter.’ Ziggy winked and introduced her to the small group in the living room.
‘Everyone, for those of you who haven’t met her before, this is Miriam Munch. She’ll be coming with us on Tuesday. I know that some of you might think it strange to include a newcomer, but I can assure you that Miriam is one of us, and we need all the help we can get, don’t we?’
‘Hi,’ Miriam said.
‘Hi.’
‘Welcome.’
‘Nice to meet you.’
‘Hi, Miriam,’ Julie said, getting up to hug her and pass her a glass of wine. ‘It’s so cool that you decided to join us.’
‘Looking forward to it,’ Miriam said, finding a seat next to her friend on the floor.
‘I’m the one who suggested her, so you know that she’s all right.’
It was the young man with the round glasses from the kitchen. He smiled at her, a little embarrassed, a kind of apology perhaps for having tried to chat her up, not knowing who she was.
‘That’s not entirely true now, Jacob, is it?’ Ziggy said.
‘Of course it is. I said, she’s the daughter of Holger Munch himself, we need to get her to join us, get inside information and all that.’
‘Yes, all right, Jacob, Miriam joining us is entirely down to you. Thank you so much,’ Ziggy said.
‘My pleasure, my pleasure.’ Jacob bowed lightly in front of them all.
‘But seriously, it’s not going to be a problem, is it?’ A young man in an Icelandic sweater was leaning against the window, his arms folded across his chest, his face grave. Miriam had seen him at Julie’s party, but she could not remember his name.
‘What is?’ Ziggy said.
‘That she’s related to a police officer?’
‘No, no,’ Ziggy began. ‘She is—’
‘Thank you, Ziggy, but I can defend myself,’ Miriam said, suddenly finding herself standing in the middle of the room with everyone’s eyes on her. It was not something she had planned, but she was buoyed up with a sense of purpose.
‘Yes, erm.’ She smiled, regretting it a little, but there was no way back, so she took a deep breath and soldiered on. ‘So my name is Miriam. Hello, everyone.’
‘Hello, Miriam.’
‘Welcome.’
The faces around her continued to smile, except for the man in the Icelandic sweater by the window, whose eyes were still dark and whose arms remained folded across his chest.
‘I don’t know if any of you used to hang out at Blitz, but that was where I started, back when I was fifteen. I’ve marched against racism and Nazism, I used to belong to Amnesty, today I volunteer for the Animal Protection League. I’ve been chained to the railings in front of the Storting, I’ve been kicked in the head by a police horse and got fifteen stitches as a result. I’ve promoted women’s rights, and yes, to be honest, I don’t know a lot about what you’re about to do – what we’re about to do – but trapping animals in cages, whatever the reason, makes me so mad that …’
Miriam ran out of steam, and continued to stand, not knowing what to say.
‘There was no need for you to do that, Miriam. We trust you,’ Ziggy said. ‘But thank you all the same.’
‘I recommended her, so she’s already accepted, am I right?’ Jacob piped up.
Miriam sat down again, a little uncomfortable with her overly dramatic performance.
Ziggy clapped his hands and gazed around the small group. ‘Any questions before we move on?’