THE SHOW WENT on. Hämäläinen felt that he weighed very little. Which must be to do with the way he was hovering above the floor. He was surprised that his guests didn’t seem to notice.
He spoke earnestly to the firefighter who had brought the dead out of the skating rink. He chatted to the relaxed Kapanen. He announced Bon Jovi and, after his appearance and mention of the dates of his tour, he even got some cheerful remarks about the Finnish winter out of him.
It was all flowing by. The audience listened and laughed. The woman and the silence might never have been there. He didn’t understand it. The show ended with a firework display based on some clever pyrotechnics, and everyone stood on stage and waved, and Hämäläinen waved too.
Then, as if gliding on rails, he went to his dressing room and drank what, according to the label on the bottle, was freshly pressed grapefruit juice, and Tuula and Olli Latvala were yakking away at him, and he raised one hand and said, ‘Quiet.’
They stopped talking.
‘Absolute silence, please,’ he said.
After a while Tuula said that the woman had been taken away by the police, she still didn’t understand why.
Did he know what had happened? She said the editorial team working on the teletext and Internet versions, who had been processing the incident directly afterwards, had spoken only of a woman overcome by grief and a sympathetic presenter who hadn’t wanted to press her for answers.
Hämäläinen felt that slight pang again; within a few seconds he felt it in different parts of his body. ‘Oh yes?’ he said.
‘I think that’s how the studio audience took it,’ said Olli Latvala.
‘Interesting,’ said Hämäläinen.
‘But the woman was taken away. And I know they suspect some connection with the accident, the roof of the skating rink that fell in …’ said Tuula. ‘Do you know the woman?’
‘No,’ said Hämäläinen.
‘You must have been annoyed when she didn’t say anything. You both just sat there for minutes on end in silence. Why didn’t you say something?’
‘I couldn’t think of anything to say,’ said Hämäläinen.
‘Could she have been the person who stabbed you?’
‘Of course,’ said Hämäläinen.
‘Of course?’ asked Tuula.
‘Of course she was the one who stabbed me.’
‘Then you recognised her?’
‘No. How could I recognise someone I’d never seen?’
‘Kai, I don’t understand any of this.’
‘Nor do I,’ said Hämäläinen.
‘Can they quote you on that? That she was the woman who … attacked you. Or at least that’s what you suspect.’
‘On the news …’ said Hämäläinen.
‘Well, yes, I’m asking because Lundberg has spoken to me about it,’ said Olli Latvala. ‘He’s editing the news today, and they haven’t been able to get any statement out of the police. At the moment no one knows exactly what really happened.’
‘Ah,’ said Hämäläinen.
‘They want to know if they could do an interview with you,’ said Olli Latvala.
‘An interview,’ said Hämäläinen. Suddenly he couldn’t help laughing.
‘I’m only passing on what Lundberg said to me,’ said Latvala.
‘Don’t worry, Olli,’ said Hämäläinen. ‘It’s not your fault, really.’ He paused for a moment, and chuckled to himself again.
Go home, he thought. Let off a firework display. A proper one. Light up the dark sky. Irene smiling. The imps gazing at the fireworks wide-eyed.
He wiped the smile off his face, and for some moments felt full of dwindling, fleeting strength as he said, ‘I’m afraid the answer is no. I’m fed up with interviews for this year.’