The Dinosaur Feather

not with her? No, he didn’t. So what was it all about? He fetched a beer from the fridge and turned the TV volume to mute. The world was a dangerous place, that was why. Children might die, children
did
die, he thought, angrily. It wasn’t all romantic as Vibe imagined. Children were born only to end up in the morgue; young girls, half-naked, bruised, battered and dead. Teenage boys high on designer drugs, beaten to a pulp by each other, or smashed up in cars or motorbikes driven by their mates, whose blood was full of alcohol. Søren had accompanied countless parents to the morgue. He didn’t want children. When he had finished his beer, his sadness overwhelmed him. They would have to part, so Vibe could have her child with another man.
    They decided to tell Knud and Elvira together the following Friday. It was a Tuesday and Søren was dreading the moment because Vibe was like a daughter to the old couple. He was convinced they wouldn’t accept the reason for the break up as they had both hinted, repeatedly, that they would like some great-grandchildren soon. Vibe slept on the sofa the whole week, even though Søren offered her their bed. She didn’t want it. She was fine sleeping in the living room, she said.
    That Friday, Søren picked Vibe up from work. They drove to Snerlevej and parked in front of the house. Søren loved to go back to his old home. He loved opening the door with the key he had been given when he turned ten and started making his own way to and from school, he loved the smell in the hall, a mixture of what was cooking in the kitchen and damp coats, boots, shoes and old wool. There was alwaysa bottle of red wine waiting on the radiator when Vibe and Søren came to visit, always delicious food and warmth, and after dinner they would play Trivial Pursuit, the men against the women. But that evening when Søren unlocked the door, something was clearly very wrong. Vibe followed behind him. They had hugged each other briefly on the garden path and Søren had asked if she was sure.
    ‘I’m sure that I want a child,’ she had replied, and looked away. They went inside the house. Søren called out. The hall was cold, there was no smell of food or wine, and the hall light, which was always on when his grandparents were expecting guests, was off. They hung up their coats and exchanged baffled looks before Søren opened the door to the living room. Knud and Elvira were huddled together. Elvira was crying. She was sitting on Knud’s lap, her head resting on his shoulder. Knud had both his arms around her. They stayed like this, even though Vibe and Søren had now entered.
    ‘What’s happened?’ Søren exclaimed. Elvira raised her head and looked at him, red-eyed.
    ‘Come here, my love,’ she said, patting the sofa. Vibe and Søren stared at them, paralysed.
    ‘No,’ Søren said. ‘Can’t you just tell me what it is?’
    Elvira was ill. She had a tumour in her breast and the cancer had spread to her lymph gland. She had been told that very day. It was terminal.
    That night they reminisced about Elvira’s life. That was what she wanted. Past summers, the plums, Perle, the goat kid they had bottle-fed in the back garden, about the time Søren had found her wedding ring in a jar of strawberry jam. They laughed and drank wine and ate pizza, which Sørenwent out to get. They lit candles and the evening concluded with Vibe and Elvira beating the men so emphatically in Trivial Pursuit that Vibe suggested that Søren and Knud should ask for their school fees back. At no point did Søren and Vibe tell Knud and Elvira why they had come.
    When Katrine telephoned, Søren had almost forgotten her existence. He was at work, it was summer and it was seven months since their fling. The weather had been mild and pleasant, and Vibe and Søren spent all their spare time in the garden in Snerlevej. Elvira was dying. They had installed a hospital bed in the living room for her three weeks ago and since then she had deteriorated quickly. Vibe and Søren had still not mentioned their split to Knud and Elvira. They couldn’t bear to and had agreed to wait until after Elvira’s death. She deserved to die as happy as possible. Vibe had moved out at the start of April, but when they visited Knud and Elvira, they would catch the same bus or share the car, and when they walked up the garden path, they would hold hands. They still saw each other, both at home in their old flat and in Vibe’s new one. It felt good,