The Dinosaur Feather

mice and crickets for food. He explained it all very cheerfully. Along the wall to the left were more bundles. Books, binders, science journals and CDs would be my guess.
    ‘I asked him why he kept his possessions like this and he replied it was nature’s way of storing her possessions. Eggs and food, always packed in clusters, piles and heaps. He was merely emulating nature.
    ‘He told me it was just an experiment, and that it was just for fun, but he hesitated.’ Professor Moritzen stopped and stared at Søren.
    ‘I don’t really know why I’m telling you all this.’
    Søren cleared his throat.
    ‘Please go on. It’s important.’ Søren gazed straight at Professor Moritzen who briefly looked as if she had lost the thread.
    ‘I don’t know . . . I left . . .’ she shuddered. ‘And I was sad . . . but also angry with myself. It’s not like I had found child porn or caught him forging bank notes . . .’ She sighed. ‘So what was going on? I gave it a great deal of thought in the weeks that followed. I bumped into Helland often. Every time I looked out of the window, he would be chatting to a colleague or putting on his bicycle helmet, always busy, always charismatic. I had seen him with his daughter a couple oftimes. She looks nothing like Asger. Lars’s treatment of them was completely different, too. Asger was invisible to him the day they shook hands, but his daughter was the apple of his eye. You could tell from the way he rested his hand on the back of her neck, the way he listened to her, tilting his head. She would have been twelve, thirteen years old then. Something inside me contracted. Why couldn’t he love Asger as well? I was in turmoil. Since my visit to Asger’s flat, I had started wondering if I should reveal his father’s identity. I spent hours examining my motives. Did I want Asger to have a father or was it about my own need to discuss Asger with someone who also loved him? There was no denying I was driven by the latter. I imagined sitting with Lars on this sofa, talking about our son. But he clearly had no wish to do so. He knew perfectly well Asger was his, but he never expressed a desire for Asger to be a part of his life. He never even glanced through my windows when he walked by. It was only when we met at seminars or at lectures that he would greet me, warm and effusive, as before. Then Lars and I had a meeting about research funding. His department and mine had jointly applied for a grant and now it was time to share the spoils. The financial situation of the departments was really tight, but none of us could have foreseen how bad it was about get.’ She gave Søren a dark look. ‘Anyway, we agreed that two representatives from each department would allocate the money to a range of projects. I turned up with a younger colleague and Helland arrived with one of his. I knew instantly that something had happened. Helland looked tired and out of sorts. His hearty personality, which sometimes annoyed me, was nowhere to be seen. During the meetinghe was irritable and brusque, and he appeared to think that not a single one of our projects was worthy of funding. I wondered what was troubling him, but I didn’t know him very well any more. I concluded that his usual invincibility had vanished or was weakened, and I spotted an opportunity to stick the knife in.’ Professor Moritzen looked straight at Søren. ‘After the meeting I caught up with him. I told him I had decided it was time to tell Asger the truth. He replied he had no idea what I was talking about.
    ‘Two days later I was officially informed that more than three quarters of the grant had been awarded to my department, specifically to two of my projects. I arrived at my office to find champagne corks popping. My younger colleague, who had attended the meeting with me, beamed and said that whatever I had said to Helland, it had worked. And he congratulated me. He hugged me. I was speechless and for five naive minutes exactly, I thought we had been given the money on merit. Then I understood. Helland had bought my silence.
    ‘In the weeks that followed, I was in two minds. Morale in the department was sky-high and we held one ambitious strategy meeting after another. We could afford a new electron microscope, we could invite three postgraduates on a planned trip to our overseas projects and we could afford to participate in two upcoming symposia in Asia and America. The atmosphere was euphoric. I saw Helland