Читать книгу The Ice People 37 - The City of Horror - Margit Sandemo - Страница 8

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No 3: Agnes

Agnes ran as fast as her short legs would carry her after the playful terrier. She made many desperate and fruitless attempts to get him to obey her. The streets of Halden were dark and slippery, and to her annoyance she saw him disappearing towards the wharf.

How embarrassing! How absolutely embarrassing! All through her sixty-five years, Agnes had feared “what people would say”. Here she was, running about, making a fool of herself in front of all the young people who were sauntering along the main street, chuckling at her – a worried little lady with a feeble voice and no authority over her dog.

“Doffen! Doffen! Come here immediately! Doffen! Do you hear me?”

If only his name wasn’t Doffen! He was her sister’s dog, and Agnes had promised to take him out for a walk, because her sister, Olava, was feeling a bit under the weather. Agnes had accidentally let go of the lead and the dog had run away.

Agnes was gasping for breath as she passed the fishmonger’s and saw the dog disappear around the corner of a warehouse on the wharf. And a policeman appeared! How absolutely awful! He couldn’t see the dog, could he? Perhaps he would think that she was on her way to the wharf for another purpose? The wharf was a notorious haunt of women of a certain type. No, surely he couldn’t think that of her, could he?

Such a crazy thought would never have entered the mind of the young policeman, Rikard Brink. He hardly noticed the short, middle-aged lady, who, gasping for breath, trudged along in her brown coat and flame-coloured hat. As so often, he was thinking of Linden Avenue and Nataniel, the strange young son of Abel and Christa. He had never known a child like him. Four years old and already in possession of such exceptional talents that it left you totally speechless.

Agnes walked faster so that the policeman would conclude that she wasn’t “that kind of woman”. Her short legs moved like drumsticks and then ... The roadworkers hadn’t thought to grit the pavement behind the fishmonger’s, and Agnes’s right foot, with her whole weight on it, slipped on the ice. Her arms flailed ...

I’m falling, I’m falling, oh, dear, how embarrassing, how awful, what will people think?

All Agnes was thinking of was the shame as she felt her feet sliding ever further away from her. She didn’t have time to realize that she might hurt herself.

Then she was lying in the road, gasping for breath. She had hit her buttocks on the edge of the kerb and everything went black before her eyes.

Oh, dear, I just can’t take this, she thought, meaning both the pain and the humiliation. The very next moment, she felt a pair of hands around her upper arms, and she was lifted up. A kind, concerned voice asked her: “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Agnes struggled to her feet. Like lightning, quite a crowd of people, curious and concerned, had gathered, and she heard a young girl across the street shout: “Did you see the old cow turn a somersault?” followed by scattered giggles.

The voice in her ear went on speaking, saying softly: “Don’t pay any attention to them. Did you hit yourself badly?”

“On ... on my hip,” Agnes whispered. This sounded better than buttocks.

The young policeman, because that was what he was, brushed snow and sand off her coat and handed her her hat, which had fallen off.

“Oh, that horrible thing,” she murmured, embarrassed. “I don’t like the colour one bit, but you see, it was given to me ...” She was silent and confused.

“Shall I get hold of a cab for you?”

“No, thank you. That’s not necessary. I can manage,” Agnes said in her usual hurried way. “Thank you very much for your help, I’ll be all right by myself.”

The policeman was concerned. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Thank you for your kindness!” Oh, let me get away from all this attention, she thought. She laughed nervously and continued her walk along the wharf, moaning to herself. She had a pain in her backside and she felt slightly dizzy and confused.

Somewhere in front of her, a woman’s voice shouted: “Blanzeflor!”

That woman could actually make her dog obey her call. Not like Agnes, who could only manage to get a few clumsy, toneless sounds over her lips.

Rikard Brink watched her with slight concern. He assumed that the short lady with the silly red hat lived out on the island. But since she seemed to be managing on her own, he now focused his attention on a car that was driving slowly along the kerb on the lookout for girls.

Rikard had chosen to become a policeman simply because he admired the profession. When it was carried out in the right way, that is. At first, it had been a child’s admiration for a smart uniform and authority, but his interest in being a policeman had never ceased. It made sense to him, and perhaps there was an element of excitement in it as well.

In short, being a policeman suited him perfectly. Rikard Brink of the Ice People was strongly built. He was twenty-four years old now. His innocent blue eyes surprised everybody who expected to see a stern face on the immense body. He was broad-shouldered, had a chest like a bison and was a head taller than most people. To be honest, he had secretly built up his muscles and he was very strong. He was both embarrassed and extremely proud when someone asked him to show off the muscles in his arms. They were really impressive.

Rikard probably didn’t have very much sex appeal: he was too nice and burly for that. Girls tended to see him more as a friend, confiding their unrequited loves to him. He was quite attractive, just a bit too ... heavy. His features were solid; his thick, dark eyebrows dominated his face, his mouth was generous and good-natured, and his cheekbones were broad. Rikard wanted a girlfriend of his own because his colleagues were always talking about their girlfriends or wives, but he didn’t have any confidence in himself. When you haven’t got that, you lose a bit of your charm. Rikard thought that he was a crashing bore, and nobody could talk him out of it. But when he was absorbed in his work, he would forget his inhibitions and become enthusiastic.

He had had a girlfriend once. However, when it turned out that she was only interested in him when he wore his uniform, he was sad and withdrew to lick his wounds. Later on, he saw the girl with a soldier. Rikard wondered what would happen when one day the soldier was in plain clothes?

The trouble was that Rikard was still too young, and so were the girls. They weren’t able to appreciate his qualities. He would need a more mature woman for that, so surely that day would come?

Right now, he was very much focused on his work and was becoming a respected and well-known figure on the street.

He didn’t know that Death was walking the streets in his city, and that little, inconspicuous Agnes was heading for her great horror.