They’re driving along a three-lane toll road, passing through rolling, ochre-coloured countryside. American music is playing on the radio – Danny’s found a different station. He stays in the right-hand lane. Occasionally, other cars overtake them, quickly disappearing into the distance. His hands rest loosely on the bottom of the steering wheel. The sun is on his side of the car. The road turns and the sun turns with it. Now it’s shining in his eyes. He pulls down the sunshade. Robert’s slumped beside him. His paunch looks bigger, but his tic appears to have calmed down.
Where did you put that bottle of water?
In the bag, I think.
Where’s the bag?
Back seat.
Robert turns around and looks over his shoulder at the back seat. Damn it, he says.
Want me to stop?
Stop somewhere later.
She asked me to let her know what’s going on.
What did you say?
Robert rubs his neck and quietly clears his throat.
You can call her when I stop somewhere, Danny says.
How am I going to get to a phone?
I’ll help you.
It’d be easier if you just gave her a quick call.
She’s your wife.
You’re the one who promised to call.
Robert’s sitting at an angle, his leg jammed awkwardly beneath the dashboard.
First let’s find somewhere to stop, says Danny.
As they approach a petrol station, Danny points at the sign. Robert says: No, let’s stop at the next one.
Thought you were thirsty.
For a long time, the hum of the engine and Robert’s heavy breathing are the only sounds inside the car. They roll northwards, kilometre after kilometre. They pass close to a city and go through a cloverleaf interchange, then under several flyovers. Now and then, Robert swears and rubs his thigh. Danny holds on tight to the steering wheel. His thumbs point to the sky. A lorry with a huge double trailer loaded with concrete sewer pipes overtakes them. They can feel the suction as it passes. Danny turns the wheel to compensate.
Do you think she’s angry?
I don’t know.
Robert stares at the tarmac. He shifts to the middle of the seat, slides one hand under his leg and supports the plaster. A blue Mercedes with a German number plate flies past. When it’s just a dot in the distance, Robert says: Well, she’s not exactly going to be happy about it, is she?
*
The air in the zoo’s nocturnal house was humid. The voices of schoolchildren rang along the dark hallway where the enclosures lay behind low barriers. They stopped at one of the enclosures. He pointed out the crocodile to her. It was a spectacled caiman, lying with its tail in the sand and its body in the water, with its nose up close to the glass. A little one, he said. Ragna put her hand on his back and hooked her finger through one of his belt loops.
Beside him, a group of five boys pushed against the barrier.
Go on, touch it, said one of the boys. The other boys laughed.
I can’t reach, another boy replied.
He’s too scared.
I’m not. I just can’t reach.
One of the other boys looked at Danny. What about you? he said. You could reach.
Do I look like I’m crazy?
But it’s asleep.
Yeah, right.
You can see it’s asleep.
Ragna pinched him.
Fine, said Danny. More children came over. Danny rolled up his sleeves.
Are you lot certain it’s asleep?
Sure.
I’ll give it a go then.
He’s going to do it, Sam. You’ve got to see this.
Two girls who’d just joined them squealed with excitement. He’s going to do it. He’s going to do it!
The boy called Sam said: Told you so. His hair was in cornrows. He had light brown skin and was wearing a baseball shirt. He smiled at Danny and said: I knew you’d do it.
The other boys nodded.
Danny leant over the barrier, a sheet of glass with a metal railing. There was a ridge of Plexiglas around the bottom and warning stickers all over the enclosure showing pictures of a mouth with sharp teeth.
Are you absolutely certain it’s asleep?
The boys whooped. One of the boys shouted: Yeah, of course. It’s hibernating.
Okay then.
Danny bent forwards, his stomach on the railing, and slowly lowered his arm. The crocodile didn’t move. Danny wiggled his fingers. He glanced at Ragna. She prodded him. Go on, she said.
So Danny did. He hesitated as he touched the water. The crocodile seemed to be looking at him. Then he scooped up a handful of water and yelled as he splashed it over the children. They scattered. The girls at the front screamed. A blond boy tripped over one of the pillars that were designed to look like mounds of mud or jungle trees. When the children realized what had happened, they laughed and came back to stand beside Danny.
That was a good one, said Sam.
Yeah, I thought so.
Ragna smiled at him and put her arm back around his waist. They walked past the other dark enclosures to the exit. He bought two drinks at the kiosk outside and the two of them sat down and leant against the glass of the hippopotamus enclosure. The hippo was nowhere to be seen and there was no water in its pen.
Nice kids, said Danny.
Yes.
Especially that mixed-race boy. Danny pinched her leg.
Cut it out, Danny, she said.
You could try sounding a bit more enthusiastic.
What do you mean?
Well, you know. I mentioned the mixed-race kid for a reason.
Ragna took a swallow of her drink and felt the bubbles in her stomach.
*
Danny sees the service station. He points the car at the exit lane and leaves the motorway. He drives around the curves, past the petrol pumps and parks just beyond the building. The radio’s silent. He can’t see a telephone by the shop. Hang on, he says. He gets out and walks around the back, where he finds a payphone on the wall beneath a little plastic shelter. When he gets back to the car, he says: There’s a payphone back there.
Robert points at his leg.
Come on, says Danny. He takes hold of Robert’s arm and helps him out of the car. Robert doesn’t cooperate. His body feels heavy. Once he’s out, he stands beside the car, putting his weight on his good leg. Danny helps him to the telephone. There’s a litter bin beside the building. Danny pushes it over to the telephone and Robert sits on the lid.
Yes.
Robert digs some coins out of his pocket. Could you get that bottle first?
Danny fetches the bag from the back seat, walks back to the telephone, takes the bottle out of the bag, unscrews the top and passes it to Robert. He takes a few big gulps.
I’ll just go and get some petrol, Danny says when Robert hands back the bottle. He walks back to the car, drives over to one of the pumps and fills it up. Then he parks up and goes over to look at the newspapers in the rack outside the shop. All French. He walks around the back of the building and watches Robert talking on the phone, his eyes half-closed. He heads inside the shop and wanders past the shelves. When he hears Robert calling him, he walks back to the telephone.
Everything okay?
Yes.
What did she say?
Take me back to the car first.
Danny puts his arm around Robert’s shoulders. Robert hops to the car. He settles into his seat and Danny hands him the bottle.
Have you paid?
No.
Robert gives him some money. Danny goes inside to pay, comes back, starts the car in silence and drives to the exit.
She was furious, says Robert. Holding his cast with both hands, he slides across the seat. Danny grips the steering wheel really hard. His knuckles are white.
But she’s glad I’m coming back.
Danny wants to ask what else she said. But he keeps quiet, cranks up the speed and stays in the left-hand lane for a long time. There are no other cars in the rear-view mirror.
*
The saucer that she used as an ashtray was on the wooden floor beside the bed. He watched the smoke as she blew it out. He stroked her neck and she tipped her head back.
His body was tired from the evening training session. His legs lay leaden on the mattress. Even though his head felt so light, the arm supporting it still tingled. He moved his arm and rested his head on the pillow. If he closed his eyes, he’d be asleep within a couple of seconds. He kept looking at her.
She took one last drag and stubbed out her cigarette. She picked up the lighter from the floor and ran it through her fingers, spun the wheel. He slid one hand under her stomach, which felt soft.
I’m going back to Thailand, she suddenly announced.
Danny didn’t say anything.
For a few months.
That long? When?
Soon, she said. I’m going to visit some people.
She took a fresh cigarette from the packet and tapped it on her temple.
Yeah, I’m free to go. I can visit whoever I like.
You are coming back, aren’t you?
Of course.
The beams and shadows on the ceiling formed a web, with them at the centre, just him and her. He found it hard to imagine suddenly being alone again.
Really?
Don’t worry.
He watched her as she played with her cigarette. Don’t worry, she’d said. He thought about that. Then he said: If you don’t come back, I’m coming to get you.
I’ll hold you to that.
She turned onto her side and put the cigarette down on the bed, with the lighter beside it.
When exactly are you going?
Two weeks’ time.
I’ll take you to the airport.
Are we walking?
We’ll get a taxi.
Ragna thought about it. No, I’ll take the train.
Then we’ll take the train together. I want to see you off.
She nodded.
How long’s the flight?
About ten hours.
They won’t let you smoke, will they?
I was planning to give it up anyway, she said. She lit her cigarette, placed the lighter beside the saucer and blew a thin column of smoke towards the ceiling. He looked at her face. He kissed her neck, slid the sheet aside and kissed the small of her back. She pressed her face into the pillow. He stroked her back, her shoulders. Pressed his cheek against her shoulder blade. Her scent was stronger than the smell of the cigarette. He growled and Ragna made small sounds that were buried in the pillow. Then he pulled her pants down and she turned over.
What’s wrong?
I don’t know.
He lay beside her.
You’re going to have problems on that plane if they don’t let you smoke.
I told you, she said, I’m giving it up. Her hand with the cigarette hovered above the floor. Some ash fell, missing the saucer.
*
The road rises slowly and the horizon stretches away into the distance. They crawl towards the horizon, crest the hill and see a new horizon in front of them, even more distant than the previous one. As they drive down the other side, Danny asks: Are you going next year?
Robert looks over at him. Why do you ask?
Or won’t she let you?
Robert thinks. I didn’t even see that bull, he says.
Which bull?
The one that hit me. I didn’t see one single bull. It’s the first year I haven’t seen a single bull.
So you want to go back next year to see another bull.
Maybe.
Danny moves his hand to the bottom of the steering wheel, wraps his thumb around it and says: It was brown.
Brown?
Yes. The bull was brown. That’s all I remember.
Robert’s thinking. He keeps fiddling with his leg. After a while, he says: What about you?
What?
What are you going to do when you get back?
First I’m going to take you home.
They get stuck behind a car towing a caravan. A line of other cars overtakes them. Danny waits silently for a gap. They look at the windows of the caravan, which are hung with nets. Danny follows it for a long time, long enough to study the stickers displayed above the bumper. A mountain landscape. A birdhouse that looks like a cuckoo clock. A beach with a Spanish name. When they’ve finally overtaken the caravan, Danny asks: Would you do it again?
Robert hesitates, then says: In a heartbeat.
The end of the toll road comes into view, followed by a two-lane stretch with a turn-off. A few kilometres later, a new toll road begins. Danny steers the car through one of the tollgates. Robert hands him some money. He pays, takes the ticket and heads for the filter that turns the road back into three lanes. There are cows on the other side of the crash barrier, red cows with their heads to the grass. It looks as if they’re zooming past the car. He’s thirsty but he doesn’t want to disturb Robert, who has the bottle by his feet.
What about you? Would you do it again?
His foot is on the accelerator. He realizes that with every passing second, every metre he leaves behind, he’s getting closer to her. And to him. He tries not to think about them.
Yes, he says.
Robert shakes his head. You wouldn’t.
Danny thinks about his attic room. That’s getting closer by the second too. And his bed. And the skylight. He looks over at Robert’s leg and the plaster, at his pained expression, and he feels the car vibrate, feels the wheels turn, feels the engine drone. His head seems to be vibrating too. His arms hold the steering wheel tight, his whole body buzzing with vibrations. A powerful feeling tingles from his heart through his veins, a feeling that is right for him now, just as the sound of the engine is right for the car. It spreads through his body, through his limbs, to his head, where images loom, images of Ragna and the other man and of what Danny did to them. Amplified by those images, the feeling descends into his body, his heart, and spreads until it’s not clear where it begins and where it ends, because it’s completing circuits through his bloodstream. He clenches his jaw. New images appear in his head, so horrifying and at the same time more realistic than the previous images, like a nightmare.
A large red Renault overtakes them. He sees a girl of about four in the back. She’s standing on the seat, her face pressed to the glass, which is steaming up. Colourful farmyard characters are stuck to the window. A horse, a cow, a farmer with something in his hands. A barn and a lot of red and yellow and green chickens. She waves at him. Danny manages to raise his hand. The girl waves even more enthusiastically and then disappears into the distance.
*
High above them, an aeroplane draws a white line in the sky. Danny moves closer to the windscreen. The aeroplane sets course for the west. He slowly leans back into his seat. The plane glides above them in a wide arc, over the windscreen, over the roof, until it vanishes behind his left shoulder. Danny slows down a little. The car edges towards the hard shoulder, almost as though it’s steering itself.
The motorway’s quiet. A lone car passes them, blows its horn.
Robert looks over at him. Hey, he says.
Danny grips the wheel, sits up straight, accelerates and sends the car shooting up the motorway again. He rejoins the traffic without looking in the rear-view mirror. The toy car in the glove compartment rolls back and forth. It bumps into the side and rolls back again. Then it’s still.
*
He looked up at the endless line of monitors in the departure hall. The names of the cities and the numbers of the flights changed. He couldn’t see Bangkok. Ragna had phoned him the day before with the departure time and said it’d be better if they took separate trains. She’d go via WTC and he could go straight from Centraal Station. He looked at the monitors again. There were only flights to Geneva and Boston at the time Ragna had given him. A family came over and stood beside Danny, a man and a woman with three daughters. The youngest was still in a pushchair. Their suitcases were stacked on a trolley.
What flight are you looking for?
Bangkok.
Bangkok?
Yes.
What time?
Half eleven.
Isn’t it up yet?
Those are the twelve o’clock flights.
The man looked at the monitors. I can’t see it either.
Thanks, said Danny. He walked to the departure hall and looked at the signs, trying to find an information desk. A woman in a uniform was standing in the middle of the hall.
She was talking to an Asian-looking man. When he’d gone, Danny went over and spoke to her.
Excuse me. What time does the Bangkok flight leave?
Which airline?
I don’t know.
Aren’t you a passenger?
I’ve come to see someone off.
The woman took out her PDA and pressed a few buttons. Bangkok, she said quietly. Then: There’s only one flight to Bangkok today and it’s leaving in forty minutes.
That soon?
Yes, at ten past ten.
Are you sure?
That’s the only flight to Bangkok.
Damn it. Which check-in desk?
Fifteen. That way. You might just catch them.
Danny headed in the direction the woman had indicated. He was almost running. He read the numbers on the yellow signs, counted down. The signs above the desks showed the flight numbers and departure times. There it was: ten past ten.
He went over to the stewardess at the Bangkok check-in desk.
The flight to Bangkok, have all the passengers checked in already?
Are you here to check in, sir?
No, I’m here to see someone off.
Check-in started just after seven.
And?
I’ll have a look.
The woman moved her mouse and checked the screen. There’s just one passenger who hasn’t gone through yet. An Englishman. Is that who you’re looking for?
No.
Then I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.
Thanks anyway.
You can see the aeroplanes from the observation deck, the woman said, pointing at the escalators.
He went back to the departure hall, headed up the escalator and followed the signs to the observation deck. Outside, he leant over the railing and looked at the planes. There were several out there, but he didn’t know the flight number or the airline. He stood there for a while, watching the planes as they trundled to the runway. Then he went back inside.
He walked past a refreshment area and saw Gerard Varon sitting in his wheelchair at a low table outside a snack bar. He was wearing a suit with a pink tie and was talking to a man of his own age, who was also in a suit. There were three younger men and a woman with them. One of them was a black guy Danny knew by sight.
He walked past the table. Gerard spotted him. He looked at Danny for a moment before raising his hand. Danny, he said.
Danny stopped.
You missed her.
Danny didn’t respond.
Shame, said Gerard.
He stared at the man in the wheelchair, tried to work out from his body language and his expression what was really going on, but it didn’t help. He walked over to the table. Gerard took his hand, gave it a firm shake and, smiling broadly, introduced Danny to the others. One of my better boxers, he added.
He turned to Danny. Did you get stuck in the traffic?
I had the wrong time.
It changed. Didn’t she call you?
No.
She said she was going to call. Because you wanted to be here. They changed the time of the flight and she only found out yesterday. She phoned to ask if we could give her a lift. I had to come out here anyway.
Danny stood beside the wheelchair, towering above Gerard. No one pulled a chair over for him and he didn’t want to take one himself.
Shame, Gerard said again. He looked over at the man on the other side of the table. See that guy? He’s a middleweight champion from Los Angeles. He’s got a plane to catch too.
The American boxer nodded at Danny.
In my line of work, you spend half your time sitting in the office, Gerard said, and the other half at the airport.
Danny looked out at the planes behind the large windows. In the distance, he saw one taking off.
Gerard looked up at him and asked: How’s the training going?
Good.
You on schedule?
Yes, he said. He knelt down, put his hand on the arm of the wheelchair and said: When’s that Argentinean coming to Europe?
Ramos?
Yes.
In plenty of time for the fight, said Gerard.
*
The sun shines in the wing mirror and streams in through the rear window, its warm light pushing them northwards. The car follows its own shadow as it glides over the tarmac. Road signs flash past, showing the distance to Paris. He speeds up. The numbers on the signs are counting down. They fly past the places whose names he saw on the way to Pamplona.
Have I thanked you yet? Robert asks.
What for?
For driving me home.
Danny rubs at the steering wheel. Robert manoeuvres himself into a different position, puts a hand on Danny’s shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.
Thank you.
His foot twitches on the accelerator, as though he can shake off the hand by pushing down on the pedal. The hand slides away. He feels its weight on his shoulder for a long time afterwards. He sees the images of Ragna and Varon and he squeezes his eyes shut and takes it. For the first time, he takes it, and for the first time, a thought comes to him that feels right for the direction they’re travelling in.
He says: I’d do everything differently.
What would you do differently?
Everything, if I had the chance.
I don’t follow you.
You asked if I’d do the same again and I said yes. But that’s not true. I’d do everything differently.
Robert looks over at him, shifts his leg. Then he looks back at the tarmac.
Yeah, all of it. Danny sniffs. He slides his hands around to the bottom of the wheel and back up to the top.
*
Just concentrate on getting ready for the fight, Varon had said to him at the airport. She’ll be back before you know it.
So he did. As well as the usual evenings, he trained three afternoons a week and one morning. He dedicated himself to his training, improved his condition, worked on his explosive power, did lots of running and exercises to keep his body supple.
He often thought about her, but she didn’t get in touch.
In mid-May, summer suddenly arrived. Danny kept on training in the boxing school’s stuffy gym. Through the open windows, he could hear sounds from the tables outside the bar across the road, chairs scraping, people talking. The clink of glasses on a tray. Two dogs barking at each other.
He reached his maximum training levels three weeks before the fight. At the end of one of the training days, he realized he couldn’t take it any longer and phoned Gerard Varon’s office. Varon asked if everything was okay.
Yeah, fine, he said.
Is there something you need?
He said no.
Gerard asked him a few more things about his training and about the fight in Germany. The line went quiet for a moment. Then Danny asked: Have you heard from Ragna?
She phoned once, Gerard replied. To say she’d got there okay. And another time to say everything was fine.
Danny was silent.
If she phones again, shall I get her to call you?
Yes.
Okay? I can’t do much more than that for you, son.
It’s fine.
I’ll tell her then, said Gerard. Bye, Danny. He rang off.
But she didn’t call. He thought it might be difficult to call from Thailand. He asked Richard if he’d ever been to Asia. Or if he knew what the connections were like there. The phone connections. But Rich had never been and neither had Ron. Rich said: My dad sometimes used to go to Japan and Taiwan. He always told us not to expect him to call. I tried once and I just got an operator on the line, going on and on. If I hadn’t hung up, I’d still be sitting there now, listening to the silly cow.
*
The music fades. After a few commercials, there’s a beep and a woman’s voice reads the news in French. Danny looks at the radio, at the lights and the buttons. His hand’s on the gearstick, ready to give the radio a thump. His eyes scan the dashboard and then slide back to the road. The Renault in front of them must be twenty years old. Danny changes gear, steers into the left-hand lane and lets the engine drown out the newsreader’s voice.
*
Rich showed him a cardboard tube. He took off the lid and slid out a roll of posters. Take a look at these, mate.
Danny watched as he unrolled one of the posters. He was on the left, Ramos on the right. Above their heads were some words in English. He looked at the Argentinean. He had a square jaw, a scar on his cheek, dark eyes and blond hair. They both had naked torsos and were looking straight into the camera.
They just got here, said Rich. What do you think?
That hair has got to be dyed, said Danny.
Not necessarily.
Danny took another look. He snorted.
There are lots of Germans in Argentina, you know. They’ve got plenty of blond people over there.
Yeah, but that’s dyed, said Danny.
Richard rolled up the poster and slid it back into the tube with the others.
I’m going to put a few of them up, he said.
The day of the fight was approaching. Danny could sense the tension growing, felt it in his stomach as he came into the boxing school. He’d shifted the emphasis of the training sessions to sparring and was planning a morning of intensive work. He warmed up with some skipping. The red rope was swishing in front of his eyes when Pavel came in. He shouted something from the corridor and disappeared into the changing room. A few minutes later, he came into the gym in his training gear. He turned on the interval bell and they started their programme. First a series of jabs, which Danny did at seventy-five per cent. Relax, relax, Pavel kept on saying. Keep your calm. He held the pads tightly and blocked Danny’s jabs. After the bell, he said: I give that Ramos five rounds.
The bell rang again, for a new interval. He repeated a series of left, left, right hook, with the last jab an uppercut that Pavel blocked with his glove at chin level.
Pavel said: No time between the jabs.
Danny jabbed.
The bell went.
Good, said Pavel. Good work. Danny’s black T-shirt was dripping with sweat. They took a break. He fetched his water bottle and passed it to Pavel.
Could you take the top off?
Pavel opened the bottle, handed it back, and Danny squirted water into his mouth. It dripped down his chin and onto the floor.
He’s going to be a happy man.
Varon. This is seventy-five per cent. If you give it a hundred in Germany, maybe even a little more, he’ll be delighted.
He knows what I can do.
That’s true. I was talking to him about you just now, in one of those cafés round the corner.
Varon? You spoke to Varon?
Yes. He has a high opinion of you.
What did you say?
That you’re doing well.
The bell rang loudly.
Now another series, said Pavel. Left, left, bend your knees, and a right hook straight on the body.
Holding the pads firmly, he stood opposite Danny, his left leg in front of his right. They worked through the series. No time between jabs, Pavel repeated again and again. Danny flashed his gloves in and out, pulling them cleanly back to his face.
After the bell, Danny asked: What else did he say?
What about?
About the fight.
He said that more than half of the tickets have already been sold.
Danny pressed a glove to his ear. Other than Pavel’s breathing, there was no sound. No noise from outside, no people in the corridor or in the canteen. Danny thought about Ragna and about Gerard Varon. For a moment, he felt genuine pity for the man, who was grey and getting old.
He said: That’s nice for him. His voice was softer.
Yeah, Pavel agreed.
They waited for the clock and, just before the bell rang, Pavel said: Yeah, life’s treating the boss well.
What do you mean?
Told me he’s going to be a daddy.
Danny looked at him.
Pavel said: He was eating cake with that girlfriend of his and he showed me the ultrasound. One of those printout things on shiny paper, you know. They’d just had it done.
Which girlfriend?
That Asian girl.
Danny stood there, stunned.
Pavel carried on talking, said it was quite an achievement for a man in his condition, if you thought about it. He said he was pleased for him and asked Danny if he’d already heard the news, because he wasn’t saying anything. Then Pavel said something else, but the sound seemed to be absorbed by the walls.
Come on, said Pavel.
Danny just stood there.
Another round or do you want to do some stuff on the wall pads?
Pavel walked over to the black pad on the wall. When he turned around, Danny was taking off his second glove and throwing it into the box by the wall. He unwrapped the bandages, pulled the loops over his thumbs and dropped them on the floor.
Which café are they at? he asked.
*
It’s night. The motorway up ahead is dark. Red rear lights hover at regular intervals in front of their car. They approach a petrol station with a shop.
Need a rest? asks Robert. Or do you want something to eat?
Danny nods, takes the exit and parks in one of the bays. The car park’s deserted. Danny picks up the water bottle and drinks. He hands it to Robert. They leave the doors open. Danny puts his left foot on the ground, moves his other foot around to loosen up his leg muscles.
Tired?
Could be worse, says Danny.
What do you want to eat?
Just a sandwich or something.
Danny looks at the shop entrance and the harsh fluorescent light. There are no cars by the pumps, just an old lorry and three cars in the car park.
Could you go in and get it? Robert says, tapping his leg. Need some money?
Danny takes the banknote and gets out. He walks to the shop. The doors slide open. He goes inside and sees a rack of French newspapers with a few international newspapers on the bottom row. German, English. Two Dutch papers. He glances back at the car. Then he picks up one of the papers and looks at the date. It’s today’s. He reads the headline, runs his eyes down the news columns. There it is. He reads the report slowly, every word. The name of the café. The address. The man escaped with minor injuries. The twenty-four-year-old woman was taken to hospital. She was twelve weeks pregnant. It is unclear whether…
He puts the newspaper back on the rack, with the headline upside down. He walks over to the chiller cabinet, picks up the two nearest sandwiches, cheese rolls, walks to the till and gives the man the money. The man hands back some change.
Bon appétit, says the man.
Thanks, Danny replies.
Back at the car, he hands Robert one of the sandwiches and the change. They unwrap the rolls and eat them.
All he can think about is the newspaper report. He rests his hands on the steering wheel. It seems to vibrate slightly. He looks across the car park, at the lorry and cars standing still, the motionless trees sticking up into the sky around the edge of the car park, the bird of prey hovering in the sky above the trees. Everything has stopped. His thoughts slow to a standstill, become snarled up in the conversation with Pavel at the boxing school. He swears.
What’s wrong? Robert asks.
Nothing.
Once the doors are shut, the isolation of the car is restored. Back on the motorway, only the droning of the engine breaks the silence. Danny puts his foot down.
Bring it on.
*
He walked around the outside of the boxing school, down a short road, before turning left onto a long, narrow street with a few spindly trees along it and scaffolding on some of the houses. He started walking faster. When he got to the square, he looked at the signs outside the cafés. Three men were standing around a couple of upturned wine barrels at the café on the corner. A van from a drinks company stood in the middle of the road and a fat man was pushing a trolley of crates through the door. On the other side of the square was another pavement café, with wicker chairs and tables and a few people outside. Café Kage was on its right. A row of chrome chairs stood outside, with small tables in front. Two women were sitting in the corner beside the windbreak, with a small dog between them. Danny skirted around a tree, got closer. Then he saw them, through the big pane of glass. Gerard Varon was in his wheelchair with his back towards him. He moved his hand in the air, clearly explaining something to her, and put it back on the armrest. Ragna was sitting beside him on the window seat, her back against the window, her hand in his lap. For a moment, he stood there and looked, as though he wanted to commit the scene to memory. On the table in front of them was a shot glass, a teacup, two forks and two plates, with crumbs on. He was aware of the smallest of details.
Then he’d seen enough. He stormed inside. The door flew open and he screamed something and it must have been a hurricane of sound, because everyone looked up and the music stopped, as if by some kind of agreement. He grabbed the arm of the wheelchair and swung it around. Gerard fell sideways against the table, slumped onto the floor, onto the yellow and orange tiles with the name of the café written on them. People screamed. He heard a woman shrieking. Not Ragna. She slid back to the middle of the window seat and stared at him with huge eyes. He couldn’t quite tell what emotion he could see in her eyes, fear, guilt or shame, but he knew that those dark eyes could not temper his fury, only increase it. He strode over to her. Gerard dragged himself across the tiles to the table, to the chair behind it, and tried to pull himself up. He groaned. Danny knelt down and thumped his cheekbone with his left fist. Gerard’s head banged on the floor and he hid his face in his hands. Danny turned back to Ragna.
Danny, she said. Her voice was shaking.
He didn’t react. He walked up to her and pulled her to her feet. He hissed something and pushed her into another table. She fell over and crawled away between two chairs, making for the shelter of the wall. A couple with a child had been sitting at the table, but they had fled to the back of the café. Danny hadn’t noticed though. He only had eyes for her and for the wall and for the abandoned table she was hiding behind. He kicked it aside. The glasses fell onto the tiled floor and a teacup splintered into hundreds of tiny pieces. He grabbed her by the shoulders and hoisted her up against the wall. She wasn’t looking at him now. She was holding one arm in front of her face, her other arm hugging her stomach.
On his way to the café, words had come flooding into his head. Words he wanted to say to her. You must think I’m stupid. Stupid fucking cow. You and that lame cripple. Did you really think it was going to work?
But now that he was standing there in front of her, he didn’t say anything. His silence lasted a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity, because it was such a terrifying, threatening silence, as though every sound had ceased. As though a prophecy hung in the air.
Then he hit her. He hit her in the stomach, a hard left jab. Her head fell forward. He pushed her back against the wall and hit her, a right, then a left. It was like hitting a punch bag and having to hold it upright at the same time.
Ragna screamed. He hit.
A man from the café shouted something at him. Stop. Stop that! He put a hand on Danny’s shoulder and pulled, but Danny elbowed him away and punched him on the side of the head. He went down.
He heard another shout, a different voice. Danny didn’t react and no one dared to come closer. Danny hit again and nobody did anything. The only sound that got through to him was the sound of his fists on her stomach. People came over from the tables outside and stood looking in the window, crowding around to see. In a flash, between two series of jabs, he saw the fat man from the drinks company. His mouth was hanging open. Danny pushed her against the wall again. She made a quiet groaning sound. He swore. He looked at the window, saw a man with a mobile to his ear. He swore again, squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his jaw and hit for the last time. Then he stopped. He let her go. Ragna collapsed, slid onto the coloured tiles and lay crumpled on her side. No one said a word, everything was silent. Danny glanced down at her and turned to the door. He didn’t even hurry. The people in the doorway stepped aside as though he’d asked them to. He stood there and took one last look around, saw her leg and her tangled hair, the bruise forming above her swollen eye. She clasped her hands over her stomach, lay there so still, her fingers limp and weak.
And he left.
He heard a siren in the distance. When he looked down the road, all he saw was the dark clouds approaching over the roofs of the houses.
*
They take two more short breaks during the night, to get something to drink and fill up with petrol. Otherwise they keep driving. Robert falls asleep. When the sun comes up, they’re at the border between France and Belgium. About an hour later, they’re getting close to home. Robert wakes up. He rubs his eyes and takes a swig of water from the bottle that Danny’s just drunk from. Danny’s following the motorway they took on the way down south. They pass the petrol station where he stood hitchhiking two days ago. It’s dry now, but there’s a veil of mist in the air. The motorway becomes busier and they end up in a traffic jam. They inch forward until Robert signals that they should take the next exit. Danny follows the signs to the village where Robert lives. Past that church tower, Robert says. Take a left. Robert taps his foot on the plastic mat beneath the dashboard. They go over a roundabout. Robert points at a side street. Danny drives down the street, over a couple of sleeping policemen.
Number twenty-seven, says Robert.
Danny looks at the house numbers on the left side of the street.
Danny parks in the drive behind the Land Rover. He sees a tile with the number twenty-seven on the front of the semi-detached house. A path leads from the drive to the front door. There’s a green fence around the garden. They sit together in the car for a moment, without saying a word. Then he hears a voice. A boy is running out of the front door. He’s bigger than in the photo and his face looks older. He runs to Danny’s side of the car, stops in his tracks, looks past Danny to his dad, and then dashes around to the passenger side. Robert opens the door, holds out his arms and gives the boy a hug.
Daddy, says the boy.
Robert’s little girl comes out too, in less of a hurry. His wife appears behind her. She stays inside the doorway. The girl stops at the open car door. Hi, Dad, she says.
Danny sits there motionless at the steering wheel until the boy looks over at him and Robert says: This is Danny.
The boy nods. Danny holds out his hand. The boy shakes it.
My name’s Eddie.
Hi, Eddie, says Danny, letting go of his hand.
And that’s Sara and that’s Manuela, Robert says.
Do you want me to help you? Danny asks Robert.
If you like.
Danny gets out, walks around the back of the car and helps Robert out. As Robert balances on one leg beside the car, holding on to the door, Danny turns around, opens the glove compartment, takes out the Alfa 1300 and slips it into his pocket. He puts his arm around Robert’s shoulders and they walk slowly to the front door. Manuela steps aside. They go into the house, down a hallway and into the living room.
Danny pulls back a chair and Robert sits down. The boy and girl have followed them. They look at Danny standing there, so big and wide in the small room.
Manuela walks over and stands on the other side of the table. Thanks, she says quietly.
Don’t mention it.
Would you like something to drink? Robert asks. Something to eat?
No, thanks. There’s no need.
Robert shows his plaster cast to his son. I’ll let you draw something on it later, he says. He looks up at Manuela and says: I think I’d like a sandwich.
We’re out of bread.
Danny goes over to the window. The girl’s hiding behind Robert and staring out at Danny.
Danny’s a boxer, says Robert.
A boxer? The little boy grins. I’ve got a boxing game for my computer.
Why don’t you go and get it? says Robert.
The boy goes to the computer desk in the corner, looks through the shelf of games and comes back with one. The picture on the front shows two boxers. One’s taking a swipe at the other, whacking him on the cheek.
He’s the best one, says the boy, pointing at the blond boxer.
Do you want to be that one? asks Danny.
Is his name Eddie too?
Yes.
Danny takes the blue Alfa out of his pocket.
Is this yours? Danny gives him the car. The boy looks at the toy car, turns it over and spins the wheels.
The door broke, says Danny.
That doesn’t matter, does it? says Robert.
The boy looks at his father, then back at the toy car. He shakes his head.
I should go.
Do you want us to drop you off somewhere? asks Robert.
There’s no need, says Danny. I can walk.
It’s not far to the station, says Robert.
Danny takes a step towards him.
Thanks, says Robert.
No. I should be thanking you.
They shake hands.
Robert tentatively slides forward, takes a twenty-euro note from his pocket and holds it out to Danny.
For the train.
Thanks.
Take care.
I will.
Do you know what you’re going to do now?
No, says Danny. He turns and walks to the door. He waves at the children, nods at Robert one last time and goes out into the hallway. When he reaches the front door, he hears Robert say: Let him out, will you?
It’s a while before Manuela follows him. He’s already opened the front door, but he stops on the doorstep. Manuela holds on to the edge of the door.
The station’s that way, she says.
Thanks for bringing him back, she adds. Her voice is deep. Deeper than before.
He looks into her eyes and sees that their colour is warm, but her gaze is ice cold. Most of her body is hidden behind the heavy door.
Don’t mention it.
Danny wants to ask her something, but she beats him to it.
It was in the paper, she says.
He nods.
Your photo was too.
She opens the door a little wider and Danny expects her to come outside, to say something else. But she stays there, half-hidden behind the front door, and doesn’t say a word. She just looks at him.
I have to go.
Bye then, she says.
He nods. When he reaches the gate, he hears the door close.
He shuts the gate behind him and walks down the road, on his way to the station. He buys two waffles at the station kiosk and, with the change in his hand, he heads for the waiting room and sits down on a bench. The platform’s empty. Before long, an elderly couple appear and soon other people are walking up and down the platform. He watches an express train go by. Then a commuter train stops. Some people get off. New passengers slide onto the vacated seats and the train slowly pulls out of the station. Through the dirty windows of the waiting room, he looks out at the platform and the nearby park and houses. His stomach rumbles. He tears open the plastic wrappers, eats the waffles and waits.