He stood staring down at us for a while, towering against the door frame with hair tucked behind his ears and bobbing up under his earlobes.
‘Where did you get that model?’ he grinned, pointing to my finger.
‘Steen & Strøm department store,’ I said.
He laughed.
‘Have to be goin’, boys. Off to Club 7. Public Enemies are playin’. The water in Frogner Bay’s goin’ to be choppy tonight.’
On his way out he turned round again.
‘Remember what I said, boys. Après nous the bacteria.’
He slammed the door and trotted through the flat. There was a brief but violent confrontation in the sitting room before he went on his way.
The bottle was empty. Seb snapped his fingers and another one appeared from the other sleeve. And slowly we got into the groove again, forgot the Frogner gang, blood swelled back into our hearts and expectations, expectations which rose like boiling milk.
The girls sat on the sofa drinking Coke. We each found a chair and Seb opened the bottles of beer. The girls scowled. There were four of them. Guri and Sidsel. And two others. Eva and Randi. Randi was a tubby version with a very short skirt. Eva was thin and wore a longer skirt. Seb and Gunnar took charge, searched through the records and put on a Hollies LP For Certain Because.
‘Won’t Jørgen be coming soon?’ said Eva and Randi, the first thing they had uttered.
Ola glanced at me and mumbled from the corner of his mouth:
‘Jørgen? Who’s J-J-Jørgen?’
‘No idea,’ I whispered.
‘I’m sure he’ll be here soon,’ Sidsel said, drinking through a straw.
‘Jørgen’s in our class,’ Guri explained.
There was a ring at the door. On the sofa Eva and Randi gave a start, went breathless and frantic, pulling out pocket mirrors and eyeliner and busying themselves. Sidsel opened the door and brought in a freshly scrubbed little man who looked a bit like Paul Simon. He gave the girls a brief nod and then blow me down if he didn’t shake hands and do the formal bit.
‘Jørgen Rist,’ he said, softly squeezing my hand and bowing. Jesus.
‘Kim,’ I said. ‘With one “m”.’
He didn’t laugh. His eyelashes curved in a deep, long arc, as though he had curled them like that. The cheekbones in his shiny face were very prominent and his hair was combed straight back and seemed electric, but the static was probably caused by my acrylic sweater.
Jørgen was not the chatty type. Randi and Eva sat staring chunks out of him, didn’t even notice my finger. Jørgen was looking in a different direction and didn’t seem to be bothered about anything.
Seb went for more beer. There was a smell of burning cheese coming from the kitchen and the girls were whispering together on the sofa. Jørgen sat staring into the air, Ola peered over his roll neck and all of a sudden Seb and Gunnar were nowhere to be seen. Eva put on a Monkees record, ‘A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You’. My ears shrank like currants and Ola dived down his roll neck.
A confrontation was inevitable.
‘Do you know it is actually monkeys singing,’ I said, trying to be funny.
Why did no one laugh?
‘Better than The Beatles at any rate,’ Randi said.
Ola surfaced from the wool. We looked around. Seb and Gunnar had absented themselves and were still absent.
‘You can’t compare The Monkees with The Beatles!’ I shouted.
‘“Strawberry Fields” is crap!’
At last Seb and Gunnar returned, a bit unsteady on their legs. A dangerous smell of burning came from the kitchen. The girls flew out and Jørgen trotted after them. Then Seb brought us together and announced under his breath:
‘There’s a demijohn in the cellar! Gunnar and I have found a demijohn!’
‘What’s a d-d-demijohn?’
‘Big glass container for making wine, you dope. And it’s full.’
They led the way. We crept after them through another room full of books and paintings and stuff culminating in a hall which led down a steep flight of stairs to the cellar.
Sidsel stood in the doorway.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked.
‘To play ping pong,’ Seb said gruffly.
‘The food’ll be ready soon.’
‘Won’t be long,’ Gunnar mumbled, his face glowing like a Northern Light.
We tiptoed down the steps. There was in fact a ping pong table in the cellar. There were also two storerooms. In one there was jam. In the other, wine. A rubber tube was attached to the mouth of the demijohn. Seb grinned, knelt down and sucked. It gurgled and bubbled. Then it was Ola’s turn. He got a mouthful down his roll neck and let out a piercing scream. I got nothing at all, must have been sucking wrong, all that came out was foul air.
Gunnar tore the tube off me.
‘Don’t drink it all!’ he grinned, shoving the pipe in his mouth.
Afterwards we staggered up the stairs and found the girls with Jørgen in the kitchen.
The sandwiches were huge and baking hot with loads of cheese and ham. We carried them into the sitting room. Seb opened the last bottles of beer.
Eva put on Herman’s Hermits.
‘Bubblegum pop,’ Seb said, taking a swig.
‘Randi and I were at the Edderkoppen gig,’ Eva announced proudly.
‘And the Vanguards played the pants off them,’ I said.
Eva was annoyed.
‘Herman’s Hermits are much better than The Beatles!’
Seb lowered the bottle.
‘You can’t compare Herman’s Hermits with The Beatles!’
‘Why not?’
‘Because,’ Seb said, scratching his head. ‘Because.’
‘Because you can’t compare the Frogner tram with Apollo 12!’
Ola had a way with words. Cometh the hour, cometh Ola.
We opened the window to air the room, sneaked on a Beatles record, ‘I Don’t Want To Spoil The Party’, and sent the music out in the evening and the streets. That was what it was like to be indoors while others were wearing out shoe leather roaming the streets. Then Sidsel charged in and slammed the window shut, she didn’t want any gatecrashers. We were a trifle embarrassed, of course it was stupid to open the window, and then we chatted about the Frogner gang and we seemed to move closer to each other, stirred by a common enemy, warmed by a common fear. Somewhere in Bygdøy they had sawn down a flag post, driven a scooter through a living room and thrown darts at paintings.
‘I’m sure they’re very nice individuals,’ Sidsel said. ‘But as a group they’re vile.’
‘Don’t think they’re nice in any form,’ I puffed. ‘Think they’re shit-bags through and through.’
The girls and Jørgen cleared away the plates and we sneaked back down to the cellar. Ola and I played ping pong while Seb and Gunnar drank. Then we swapped roles. Couldn’t make the tube work for me. Nothing came out. Then we scrambled up the steps bellowing ‘Penny Lane’ and got lost in all the rooms, but finally found the kitchen. Eva and Randi and Jørgen were washing up. We swayed into the living room, Seb and Gunnar were very loud, put the record player on full blast, dimmed the lights and wanted to dance. They were well gone. Then Eva and Randi and Jørgen joined us, but Jørgen didn’t seem to be in a dancing mood even though Eva and Randi were ogling him for all they were worth. Ola and I didn’t exist.
The lions of the dance floor collapsed by the table shaking their manes. Some people passed by the fence outside yelling and singing. A bottle was smashed. Gunnar turned off the music and we sat stock still until they had gone. Sidsel went white around the gills.
‘Quite mad really,’ Seb said. ‘Quite mad really that we’re more afraid of the Frogner shits than the war in Vietnam.’
The girls looked at him.
Seb leaned across the table.
‘Do you know that the Americans have the whole of their fleet just off the coast of North Vietnam! With hundreds of nuclear bombs on board!’
&n
bsp; The girls shook their heads, they didn’t know.
The room fell silent.
Then Ola said, ‘Après nous the b-b-bacteria.’
It was quiet for a while longer. Then Gunnar turned up the volume. ‘And I Love Her’. And one couple took to the floor like fused shadows.
‘What are you going to do after the gymnas?’ I asked, feeling so decrepit moss was growing on me.
Eva and Randi were bored.
‘Air hostess,’ Randi sighed, eyeing Jørgen.
‘Finish gymnas first,’ Eva said.
‘Going to be an actor,’ Jørgen said with gravitas.
‘Eh?’ Ola burst out.
‘Going to apply for drama school,’ he elucidated.
‘I’m going to sea!’ Seb shouted, but then Guri went into action and he had to promise once again that he would never, never, go to sea.
Seb swore by all that was holy.
‘I once played the part of Frans the frog at folkeskole,’ I said. ‘Jumped around wearing a green jersey and green flippers. Ola was Tom Thumb.’
Ola sent me a dirty look from above the roll neck.
‘I’ve played the roles of Jesus and Tordenskiold,’ Jørgen informed us.
No more was said about that. Eva and Randi pushed for another round of Herman’s Hermits, Sidsel fetched more Cokes and we nipped down to the cellar. The demijohn was bubbling, wouldn’t be long before we were bubbling, too. Seb drank. Gunnar drank. Ola drank. Then we heard voices behind us. They issued from the dark, without warning. Sidsel and Guri. Ola waved the tube.
‘So this is where you play ping pong,’ Sidsel said coldly.
Nothing you could say to that.
‘Well, that’s dreadful,’ Guri said.
Caught in the act. Words were useless. Seb and Gunnar responded with direct action, stifled their protests, and their glowing shadows merged into the dark where the ensuing silence spoke its own unambiguous language.
I looked at Ola.
‘Nothing left for us to do here then,’ I said.
We staggered upstairs. Eva and Randi were in the living room listening to Herman decrying the lack of milk. Jørgen had gone. Ola slumped into a chair looking worse for wear. I had to pee and crawled up to the next floor. There were lots of doors to choose from, but in the end I found the bathroom. The door was ajar. I peeped in, stopped in my tracks. Jørgen was in there. Standing in front of the mirror with lipstick and eyeliner. He had drawn two black teardrops under his eyes, just like the girls at the gymnas. Out of my depth, I held my breath and stepped backwards. Worst thing I had ever seen. I tiptoed down the corridor, found another room with the door open, had to be Sidsel’s bedroom, looked a lot like Nina’s room, maybe all girls’ rooms were alike. Smelt like it, too. Clean. Sheets that had been hung outside to air. Oranges. And at the same time something heavy, something physical, armpits, scalp. Oh God, I was terrified. Had to make my way downstairs and fast. Too late. The bathroom door opened and Jørgen was approaching. I stood with my back to him without turning.
‘All girls’ rooms are the same,’ he said.
‘Just what I was thinkin’,’ I said.
‘Kim’s a girl’s name, too,’ he said beneath his breath.
I turned round slowly, unable to believe my own ears, and stared at him. He had wiped away the eyeliner.
‘Who kissed you on the cheek?’ I grinned.
‘No one,’ was all he said.
‘You’ve got lipstick all over your face,’ I said.
He rubbed it away with the back of his hand. Weird bloke.
‘I’m bored,’ he said. ‘Do you get bored often? I’m almost always bored. That’s why I’m going to be an actor. So that I can be anyone I feel like. And then I’ll be spared the boredom.’
He certainly had that one worked out.
‘I’m goin’ to be a singer,’ my mouth said. Instant red face, had no idea why I had said that.
I moved towards the stairs. He followed me.
‘Are you?’ he said quietly, studying me with shiny eyes hidden behind a soft hedge of arched brows. ‘How nice.’
The silence was broken by a scream. I was down the staircase in two bounds and racing into the living room. Total panic. Worse than the Titanic. Sidsel was hysterical, the others not much better. Iceberg on port side.
The Frogner gang.
They were standing by the gate yelling and throwing corks at the window. Five of them, the same as in Frogner Park. One of them had a big bandage round his head.
‘They’ll smash everything up!’ Sidsel sobbed.
Gunnar was ashen but composed.
‘We won’t let them in,’ he said.
‘Do you think they’ll ask to be let in! They’ll break in!’
A dustbin lid was kicked down the street, a board ripped off the fence. Jørgen arrived and realised what was afoot. His face contorted with fear.
‘Let’s ring the police!’ Guri said, beginning to cry.
A bottle smashed against the door.
Seb and Ola were ready to run, but there was nowhere to go.
Then I felt the great backwash, the shoreline of my soul was dragged out, my head became clear and sober, I heard the sea in a large conch shell.
I was not frightened. They couldn’t do any more to me.
‘I’ll fix ’em,’ I said, walking towards the hallway.
Gunnar leapt after me.
‘You crazy or what! They’ll kill you!’
I shook him off.
‘I’ll get rid of them!’ I called out.
They all tried to hold me back. The girls were crying. Gunnar was cursing. I broke free.
‘You’re mad!’ Gunnar yelled. ‘They’ll kill you!’
I went out.
A minute later I returned.
‘That’s that then,’ I said.
No one believed me.
‘They’ve slung their hooks,’ I said, taking a seat. ‘Danger over.’ The girls went back to the window and peered out. Gunnar stuck his face into mine.
‘What… what did you do?’
‘Just told ’em to sod off,’ I said.
After that the party took a new turn. Eva and Randi were not only eyeing up Jørgen, but also stealing glances at me. Seb found some gin in a cupboard, the lights were switched off, the music turned up and I remember dancing with Randi, the plump one, dancing all the time, standing there in the dark and our thighs were soft and hot, we were alone in the room. We lowered ourselves onto the floor and my hand found her breasts, and my hand found even more, but then all of a sudden she was no longer willing, sat up with a start, pushed out her lower lip and sighed up at the ceiling.
‘Aren’t you Nina’s boyfriend?’ she said.
Didn’t like her tone.
‘Nina? Nina who?’
She sneered and left. I sat in the dark. A door slammed. Someone had left. Then I heard sounds above. Someone was in the bedrooms. I assumed Seb and Guri weren’t frightened any more.
I found Ola in the cellar. He was asleep on the ping pong table.
‘Party’s over,’ I said. ‘Let’s go home.’
‘Where are Seb and Gunnar?’ he slurred.
I pointed to the ceiling. Ola understood.
We dawdled home. By the fountain we rested our legs. There was no one else about. We were the only living survivors in the whole town.
‘Fab party,’ Ola murmured.
I nodded.
‘But that Jørgen was a w-w-wet fart, wasn’t he.’
We lit a cigarette.
‘Is Nina c-c-comin’ this summer?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘This summer.’
‘K-K-Kirsten, too. From Trondheim.’
He dug a photo out of his back pocket and showed me. It was a booth photo, a girl laughing with big teeth, a centre parting and round cheeks.
‘K-K-Kirsten,’ Ola said.
That was when we heard it. We heard an organ. A ponderous psalm resounding through the night. There was light in a window in Sch
ives gate, the only illuminated window in the whole town and that was where the sound was coming from.
‘That’s where Goose lives,’ Ola said in a low voice.
‘That’s Goose playin’ the Hammond organ,’ I said with a tremble.
The heavy, sluggish chords rolled out into the dark. Soon lights came on in other windows, people stuck out their heads, yelled and shushed, banged with sticks, threw two øre coins, banged lids and all the dogs tried to out-howl each other.
Then the organ tones faded and Goose switched off the light. Afterwards everything was as before, just even quieter.
We flicked away the cigarette ends, strolled on, it was getting cold.
‘What did you really s-s-say to the Frogner gang?’
‘I told ’em you were there,’ I said.
Ola, still a bit shaky on his legs, grinned.
‘H-h-hope my dad’s not waitin’ up.’
‘Same here.’
‘F-f-fab party,’ Ola said.
‘Knockout,’ I said.
On Sunday evening Seb trolled into my room, stood in the middle of the floor laughing, dived onto the sofa and continued laughing there.
‘Bloody hell, you were wasted yesterday,’ he said.
‘Was I?’
‘Out of your head!’
He stopped laughing.
‘What did you actually do to the Frogner gang?’
I took my hand out of my pocket.
‘Showed them my finger,’ I said.
‘What did you actually do to your finger?’
I told him about all that had happened in Frogner Park. Seb listened with big, round eyes. I took my time, left nothing out, told him about the one I punched in the face breaking my finger, and that they ran off, shit scared, Seb had seen the one with the bandage round his head, that was the one I knocked down, it was. Seb was open-mouthed.
And then he told me all the things he had been up to, what happened in the room with Guri, about the most fantastic bit of all when the party was over, about the details, about everything. I don’t know which of us was lying more, the main thing was we believed each other.