The Dinosaur Feather

offices and bicycle couriers delivering sushi or props for photo shoots. They would never believe that anyone actually lived there. Anna walked up the wooden staircase and reached a dilapidated walkway. Jens’s front door was at the far end. Socks were drying on a clothes line. She rang the bell. Jens emerged from the kitchen. She could see him through the window. His hair stood out on all sides and he looked like he had the mother of all hangovers.
    ‘You look awful,’ Anna blurted out. She gave him a quick hug, and noted she had been right. He reeked of stale booze.
    ‘I had a late night and when I finally went to bed, I couldn’t get to sleep.’
    ‘It’s an old wives’ tale that booze helps you sleep. It stops you, in fact,’ Anna said.
    ‘I would have preferred a bad night’s sleep to no sleep at all,’ Jens mumbled. They sat down in the living room. The sofa frame was made from varnished bamboo and the cushionswere ancient. A low coffee table, piled high with newspapers, stood in front of it. The flat had a sloping roof and consisted of a large room divided up by a wall which reached all the way up to the ceiling. On the living room side, the wall was covered with books from top to bottom, an ingenious contraption consisting of an iron pole and a ladder enabled Jens to reach the top shelves. Anna caught a glimpse of the open-plan kitchen on the other side, a loaf of bread half out of its bag, an open packet of butter. A lumpy patchwork rug lay on the floor.
    ‘Why don’t we go out,’ Jens suggested, apologetically. ‘I don’t mind. I could buy you a hot chocolate?’
    Anna stared at him in disbelief.
    ‘Are you trying to wriggle out of this?’
    Jens gave her a weary look.
    ‘Yes, I suppose I am. Let’s stay here. Do you want some tea?’
    ‘No, thanks,’ Anna said. ‘All I want is an explanation.’
    Jens looked haggard. Then, all of a sudden, he began to sob. Anna was shocked. She had never seen her father cry.
    ‘We never meant to hurt you, Anna sweetheart,’ he said. He stood with his arms dangling, looking lost and lonely in his jeans and shirt; his stomach had grown too big, and he needed a haircut. Anna gulped. Jens sat down on a worn armchair, facing her. For a long time he stared at his hands which now rested in his lap.
    ‘Cecilie doesn’t know you’re here,’ he began, with trepidation. ‘I spoke to her yesterday, but I didn’t say anything. I thought the two of us should talk first . . .’
    ‘That’s all right,’ Anna said, calmly.
    Jens looked momentarily relieved.
    ‘But I won’t let you gag me.’ Anna’s eyes flashed. ‘You’re going to tell me who Sara is, where she is and why I’ve never heard about her. I’ll listen to what you have to say and I’ll try my best to understand.’
    Jens gave her a frightened look.
    ‘And if you ever lie to me again,’ her voice was trembling, ‘then you’ll lose me. I’ll count to ten, Jens. I mean it. You have ten seconds to start talking.’ When she reached three, Jens cleared his throat.
    ‘Everything was fine while Cecilie was pregnant. We were in love, we were looking forward to the baby. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had yet to turn twenty and this wonderful, attractive, older woman had chosen me. I had moved into her flat, she went to work, I was studying, the summer seemed endless. We decorated the nursery. Your mum put up a Che Guevara poster above the changing table and made a giant, foam-filled snake for you. Her belly grew, the sun was shining. Then you were born. It was winter and pitch black. I was there at your birth. It was a long labour; Cecilie fought hard, but finally, out you came. It was minus ten outside and the sky was full of stars that night when I came home to Brænderup. I remember standing in the conservatory, gazing at it. I was a father. You came home five days later between Christmas and New Year.’ Jens clutched his head. ‘And I knew instantly that something was wrong.’
    Anna realised she was tense all over.
    ‘Mum’s back?’ she asked.
    Jens gave her a dark look.
    ‘She had post-natal depression. She didn’t want you. We made up the story about her back.’
    Anna was dumbstruck. Jens’s revelation hit her like a thunderbolt that went in one eye, across the roof of her mouth, down her throat and into her stomach where it lodged itself like an anchor on the sea bed. She wanted to throw up.
    Jens looked away.
    ‘I didn’t want to admit it. But I could see it. She