The Dinosaur Feather

for seventeen years! I was scared to have children with her. All the things it takes guts to do . . . When I see Vibe with her big pregnant stomach, I thank God that she left me. I would never have been able to forgive myself if she hadn’t had children because of me. She deserves so much better.’ An embarrassed silence followed.
    ‘I don’t have real friends, either,’ Søren continued. ‘I’ve got you and Allan. And Vibe and her husband, obviously.’
    ‘What’s wrong with me? I’m a decent enough bloke,’ Henrik said, looking like he was simultaneously offended and amused.
    ‘Nothing. I can’t complain. But you said it yourself this morning. I don’t trust anyone, I don’t give anything back.You don’t really know me, do you?’ Again he threw up his hands. ‘Plenty of children are orphaned, and some of them go into care or are fostered and they turn out fine. I was playing in my grandparents’ garden when the crash happened, and it was the best garden in the world.
That
I do remember. But I don’t remember them dying, I don’t recall shedding a single tear. Nor have I ever been angry that they died, and I haven’t missed them. Not really. Knud and Elvira were my parents. They were. I can’t see any reason why I’m such a fucking coward.’ He paused. Henrik cleared his throat.
    ‘You’ve just done it,’ he said eventually.
    ‘Done what?’
    ‘Opened up. Taken a chance.’
    ‘I see my daughter’s face before me all the time,’ Søren said. ‘Suddenly, she’s everywhere. I thought I could get away with it. Can you imagine what it was like lying next to Vibe and not be able to tell her what was really going on? She thought I was upset because we were splitting up. She comforted me and assured me that we would always be friends. She came over with dinner for me and I kept lying to her.’ Søren pressed his fist into his mouth.
    ‘You need to talk to someone,’ Henrik said for the third time. Søren looked out of the window. How could he ever have doubted Henrik?
    ‘Yes, I do,’ he said.
    At 7.50 p.m. Søren rang the bell of a flat in a residential block on the outskirts of Nørrebro. The name on the door read
Beck Vestergaard
. Søren hadn’t looked Bo in the eye since the day before Katrine, Maja and he had gone to Thailand.
    ‘Make sure you take good care of them,’ Søren had ordered him, fixing Bo with his eyes. Bo had bristled with irritation. Since then, he had seen Bo once. In the church and only from the back.
    Søren had called earlier to say he was coming, but he barely recognised the man who opened the door. Bo was unshaven, and he was wearing jeans and a vest. His stomach bulged like a ship’s fender. He stared at Søren, turned around and disappeared into the flat. Søren followed him into a small living room which opened into a laminate kitchen. To the right of the kitchen, an open door led to a room where Søren could see an unmade bed. The curtains were drawn and the television was on in the background.
    ‘What do you want?’ Bo scowled. He had sat down on the sofa and lit a cigarette. Before Søren had time to reply, he went on: ‘I don’t know why you’re here after all this time. But if you’re hoping to be forgiven, you can leave right now. You lost any chance of that when you stopped answering your phone, when I couldn’t get hold of you. Not even at the station. Bastards threatened to take out an injunction against me. A fucking injunction! If I didn’t stop calling. Like I was the criminal. Ha, if only they knew!’
    ‘I couldn’t bear to hear what had happened. They were dead. I couldn’t bear the details.’
    Bo sent him a brief, lost look.
    ‘I wasn’t trying to hassle you, but that was how I was treated. Like a stalker. I just wanted to talk to you. I had just lost my wife and my child. Our child. For fuck’s sake, I just wanted to talk to you!’ Bo buried his face in his hands.
    ‘I was a coward,’ Søren admitted. ‘I was wrong.’
    A pause followed, then Søren said, ‘I want to hear it now, please. The details. I want to know why you’re here and they’re not.’
    Bo went deathly pale, and started panting.
    ‘Are you saying it’s my fault? You total shit . . .’ He made to get up, but his excess weight dragged him back down on the sofa. He accepted his fate and started talking.
    ‘Our hotel room was some distance from the beach and I woke up that morning when water started coming in under the door. It was total chaos