Chapter 12 - Only Human

Cessi has called and ordered groceries from the shop in Majorstua. For Mrs Viker, the wife of high-court lawyer Viker, she said in a high-pitched voice, and slipped in an order of five bottles of beer between the butter and oatmeal, as though nothing at all. She had thought about sending Finn to collect the shopping, but there was the matter of the bottles to consider. He noticed things like that, tattled to Hartvig. Not that she could conceal that she had been drinking, it did smell after all. But five bottles are not the same as one. One in the cupboard and four hidden in the cellar. Besides, there was a lot of snow on the ground, and Finn would most likely take his sledge, she could picture the cardboard box turning over and the bottles sliding off into the snow, such that everyone alighting from the tram would see. She put on her coat, lit up a cigarette, left her gloves, it was mild, the weather was foggy, the snow dripping from the dark pine trees. The snowplough had not been around yet, the heels of her winter boots sank into the wet snow and made walking difficult. Still, her body felt light, her waist had got so thin lately, the nursing after the last birth had taken a toll, she was weak, but all the same, she looked better now she was slender, and maintained her figure with cigarettes and coffee. The cigarette smoke tore at her chest, it felt good. Her blouse material was smooth, she felt it rub against her stomach as she walked. She could see in the mirror that she was attractive, oh yes, her face had a sort of natural flush these days. One noticed it in the glances of men. A slight tingling in her breasts, as though something was on the way, milk, or her monthly. She felt so hot, undid a couple of buttons on her coat. If it had not been for Hartvig, and that infernal house. How she yearned for the city. For life. For something to relieve the bubbling excitement, to fall in love if possible, life, life!

The conductor helped her off with the box on her way back. I simply can’t carry anything, she said, I have an inflammation in my arms.

He did not reply.

Oh, goodness, you are well able, I’m sure your wife is more than happy with you. I hope you spend more time at home than my husband, he’s overworked, poor thing, and my son is no doubt out running around somewhere, or else he could have helped.

Right, the conductor said, placing the box on the sledge for her, and fastening it tight with the rope she held out.

She saw several of the men on the tram looking at her through the open door as it made its way up the hill, one of them even lifted his hat. Granted they were simple working men, platelayers. Nevertheless.