Somehow or other she noticed us standing there because the very next moment she straightened up and looked across at us. She waved. But not in greeting, she was pointing to herself, she was beckoning us to come over.
We ran as fast as we could up the gravel track, across the soft, wet lawn and stopped in front of her.
“You look strong,” she said. “Can you help an old lady, do you think? I need to get this tree out of the stream. It’s gotten stuck.”
Flattered, we got down to work. Geir waded into the water as far as he could and grabbed a branch, I did the same on the other side while Anne Lisbet and Solveig pulled the trunk. At first it wouldn’t budge, but then Geir began to shout, Heave-ho! Heave-ho! to make us pull in unison and bit by bit we managed to drag it out. When it was free the current caught the end and pushed it onto our side, but we held on and hauled it onto dry land.
“Oh, how wonderful!” the old lady said. “Many, many thanks! I would never have managed that on my own, you know. You are so strong! Well done. Wait here and I’ll give you a little something as a sign of gratitude.”
She scurried off to the house with her head bowed and disappeared through the front door.
“What do you think we’ll get?” I said.
“Few cookies maybe,” Geir said.
“Or a bag of bread rolls,” Anne Lisbet said. “Mom always keeps some handy.”
“I think apples,” Solveig said. And when she said that, I agreed wholeheartedly because beyond the gravel track there were lots of apple trees.
But when the old lady reappeared, with her head still bowed, she came toward us empty-handed. Hadn’t she found anything?
“Now look here,” she said. “This is for you with my thanks. Who’s going to take care of it? It’s for all of you.”
She held out a coin. It was five kroner.
Five kroner!
“I can look after it,” I said. “Thank you very much!”
“It’s me who should thank you,” the old lady said. “All the best now!”
Elated, we sprinted down the hill. Then without a second thought we walked back the way we had come, discussing what we would do with the money. Geir and I wanted to go to the shop straightaway and buy candy with it. Anne Lisbet and Solveig also wanted to buy candy, but they didn’t want to go to the shop now, it would soon be dinner and they had to go home. We decided to save the money for the day after and then buy candy.
Anne Lisbet and Solveig took the path home. Geir and I continued along the main road to the shop. Standing outside, we couldn’t wait as we had agreed, the five-krone coin was burning a hole in our pockets, it was all we could think about. Waiting to spend it was simply not an option, so we decided to buy the candy now and save it until the following day and surprise Anne Lisbet and Solveig with them.
And so we bought them.
However, after we had done so and started walking to the road, Geir’s father came along in their Beetle. He pulled over beside us, leaned over the seat, and opened the door.
“Hop in,” he said.
“Can Karl Ove come too?”
“No, not this time, we’re not going home. We’re going to town. Another time, Karl Ove!”
“OK,” Geir said. Turned to me and said in his dramatic whisper, “Don’t eat any of the candy!”
I shook my head and stood watching until Geir was in and the car had driven off. Then I ran to the concrete barriers, jumped over them, scampered down the slope and into the play area, past the wreck of a car, across the soccer field, through the forest, and along the edge past the bog. Just before I could be seen from our house I stopped and divvied up all the candy, which until then had been in one bag, and put them into the four pockets of my jacket. I threw the bag away and ran onto the road, down the side of the house – there was a light on in the living-room window – and into the drive. Dad’s car was there and, leaning against the wall in its usual place, Yngve’s bike!
The little metal part holding the handlebars in position had a very different, and much brighter, gleam than the metal around it. Surely Dad couldn’t help but notice?
I opened the door and went in. If Dad met me I would just hang up my jacket as normal. If he stayed in his study or in the living room, I would go upstairs wearing my jacket, hide the candy in my room, and then go back down with the empty jacket. If he met me then and asked why I was still wearing my jacket I would say I’d had to go to the toilet urgently.
The house was quiet.
There he was. Upstairs in the living room.
I carefully removed my shoes and walked through the hall, up the stairs, and into the bathroom. Opened my fly, wriggled out the wiener, and peed. Pulled the chain, washed my hands in cold water, dried them, and waited for the flush to stop before I opened the door. Cast a fleeting glance into the living room, nothing, went into my room, pulled the duvet aside, emptied my pockets of all the candy, covered them again, and went onto the landing.
“Karl Ove, is that you?” Dad said from the living room.
“Yes,” I said.
He came out.
“Where have you been?” he said.
“Gamle Tybakken with Geir,” I said.
“What were you doing there?”
His mouth was a straight line. His eyes were cold.
“Nothing much,” I said, so happy my voice held firm. “Walking around, that was all.”
“Why are you wearing your jacket?”
“I had to go to the bathroom. I’ll take it off now.”
I continued down the stairs. He went back to the living room. I hung up my jacket and quickly returned, unhappy at the thought that all that candy was lying there unprotected. Switched on the small, round metal lamp on the desk. The long, slim bulb filled the empty space it resided in with its yellow light. Sat down on the bed. Straightened the duvet over the candy.
What now?
Contrasting feelings coursed through me. One minute I was on the verge of tears, the next my chest was bursting with happiness.
I took out a book about space Dad had had as a child and which I had been allowed to borrow the previous time I was ill. It was crammed with drawings of how space travel would be in the future. Astronauts’ equipment, the shape of rockets, and the surfaces of planets.
Dad strode along the landing.
He opened the door and eyed me. Without making a move to come in or say anything.
I closed the book and sat up straight. Glanced in the direction of the candy.
It was impossible to see there was anything underneath the duvet.
“What have you got there?” Dad said.
“Where?” I said. “What do you mean? I haven’t got anything.”
“Under the duvet,” Dad said.
“I haven’t got anything under the duvet!”
He eyed me again.
Then he walked over to the bed and tore the duvet aside.
“You’re lying to me!” he said. “Are you lying to your own father?”
He grabbed my ear and twisted it round.
“I didn’t mean to!” I said.
“Where did you get the candy? Where did you get the money to buy them?”
“An old lady gave it to me!” I said, starting to cry. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“An old lady?” Dad said. He twisted harder. “Why would an old lady give you money?”
“Ow! Ow!” I yelled.
“Be quiet!” he said. “You lied to me, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I didn’t mean to!”
“Look at me when I’m talking to you. Did you lie?”
I raised my head and looked at him. His eyes were smoldering with anger.
“Yes,” I said.
“So now you tell me where you got the money from. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I got it from an old lady! We did her a favor!”
“Who?”
“Geir and I and A –”
“You and Geir and who?”
“No one. Just me and Geir.”
“You little liar. Just you come here.”
He twisted my ear around again while pulling my hand and forcing me to stand up. I gasped and sobbed and my insides went hollow.
“Down to my study,” he said, without letting go of my ear.
“I … haven’t … done … anything … wrong,” I said. “We … were … given … the money.”
He pushed open the first door so hard that it slammed against the wall. Dragged me in through the second and onto the floor. Then he let go.
“How did you get the money?” he said. “And don’t you tell me any lies!”
“We helped … an old lady.”
“To do what?”
“There was … a tree. A tree … stuck in a stream. We pulled … it out.”
“And she gave you money for that?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Five kroner.”
“You’re lying, Karl Ove. Where did you get the money from?”
“I AM NOT LYING!” I yelled.
His hand shot out and slapped me on the cheek.
“Do not shout!” he hissed.
He stood up.
“But there is a way to find out,” he said. “I’ll ring the old lady and ask her if it’s true.”
He looked me in the eye as he said it.
“Where does she live?”
“In … Gamle Ty … bakken,” I said.
Dad went to the telephone on his desk, lifted the receiver, and dialed a number. Held the receiver to his ear.
“Oh, hello,” he said. “My name’s Knausgård. I’m ringing about my son. He says you gave him five kroner today. Is that correct?”
There was a pause.
“You didn’t? You didn’t have two boys helping you today? You didn’t give them five kroner? Oh yes, I see. I apologize for the intrusion. Thank you very much. Goodbye.”
He cradled the receiver.
I couldn’t believe my own ears.
He looked at me.
“She hasn’t seen any boys. And she definitely didn’t give anyone five kroner.”
“But it’s true. We
were
given five kroner.”
He shook his head.
“That’s not what she said. So. That’s enough lying. Where did you get the money from?”
Another deluge of tears swept through me.
“From … the … old … lady!” I sobbed.
Dad stared at me.
“We’re not going to get any further with this,” he said. “Now you go and throw the candy in the bin. And you stay in your room for the rest of the evening. Then I’ll have a chat with Prestbakmo in a bit.”
“But they’re not mine!” I said.
“They’re not yours? You’ve told me
you
were given five kroner? Wasn’t it your money after all?”
“It’s Geir’s as well,” I said. “I can’t throw the candy away.”
Dad stared at me with his mouth agape and a furious glare.
“You do as I say,” he said at length. “Now I don’t want to hear a single word more from you. Have you got that? You steal, you lie, and on top of all that you talk back! So. Get up there.”
With him right behind me, I gathered up all the candy in my hands, threw them in the kitchen trash can, and went back to my room.
That autumn and winter we went up to see Anne Lisbet and Solveig as often as we could. We stumbled around playing in the darkness, our rain gear glistening with rain in the gleam of our flashlights, which shone narrow tunnels of light into the forest below their houses, we sat in one of their bedrooms drawing and listening to music, we went to the boat factory and the big quay there, up the hill behind, where none of us had been before, and we went down into the forest below the bridge next to the immense concrete foundations.
One Saturday we wandered down to the secret dumping ground. They were just as eager as we had been, and Geir and I dragged four chairs and a table, a lamp, and a chest of drawers into the trees, we arranged them as if we were in a living room, and it was absolutely fantastic because we were outside in the forest, in the sunlight, yet inside a living room, and we were there with Solveig and Anne Lisbet.
The tingle of excitement I felt when I looked at her never waned, she was so beautiful it hurt. Her thick, light-blue jacket with the shiny material. The white cap. The rim of wool around the top of her boots. Her face when for some reason she sent us a fierce look. Her smile, as radiant as a billion diamonds.
When the snow began to fall we wandered around searching for suitable places to jump from, slide down, or dig holes in. Her hot, red cheeks then, the gentle but distinct smell of snow that changed so much according to the temperature, but that was everywhere around us nevertheless; all the possibilities that existed. Once the mist hung between the trees, the air was thick with drizzle and we were wearing waterproof clothing that was so frictionless on the snow we could slide down it like seals. We climbed to the top of the slope, I lay on my front, Anne Lisbet sat astride me, Solveig astride Geir, and we slid down on our stomachs all the way to the bottom. It was the best day I had ever experienced. We did it again and again. The feeling of her legs clamped round my back, the way she held my shoulders, the howls of delight she gave when we picked up speed, the fantastic somersaults when we reached the bottom, rolling around with our legs and arms entwined. All while the mist hung motionless amid the wet, dark green spruce trees, and the drizzle in the air lay like a thin film of skin on our faces.
We discovered lots of new places that winter, such as the deciduous forest below the road, which surrounded the whole estate and the area above the Fina station, two places that had been totally separate in our consciousness but that were now suddenly connected. The old gravel lane that led down there, the last part of which we had joined when we were going to the Fina station, also had a top end, where the children we had never seen lived, they also had a soccer field in the forest, small, it was true, but with decent goals. Or the road below Anne Lisbet and Solveig’s, where the houses highest up were only a stone’s throw away from theirs. Dag Magne, who was in our class, turned out to be Solveig’s neighbor. It came as a surprise that their houses were so close to one another, they belonged to two different worlds and there was a belt of forest between them. Presumably it was the forest that had deceived us. It was no more than twenty, perhaps thirty meters wide, but it represented so much more than houses that, emotionally, the distance felt like several hundred meters. This was the same across the whole estate, and not only there, it was like that by the dumping ground, too, for if you took the road from Færvik and continued straight on, which very few people did, instead of turning right onto the road to Hove, you were there. And if you bore right at the end of the long, flat stretch, on the road east toward the school, it was only a couple hundred meters before the dumping ground revealed itself in all its glory between the trees. Areas that had previously been isolated, in their own worlds, so to speak, were suddenly connected. How many people knew that Lake Tjenna was actually located right by Lake Gjerstad? Lake Gjerstad, which you could walk to from Sandum, on the other side of the island! Or reach via a shortcut off the road to school!