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Chapter 1
She took out a wide notebook, bought from Smithson's for five pounds from her laptop bag, and a Christian Lacroix ballpoint pen and began to write.
A connoisseur of expensive branded items, she cursed herself for not having a simple wool sweater right now.
The cold air on board the Norwegian irritated their already frozen body. She sat all day at Heathrow Airport, didn’t eat anything, warmed herself with tea and cried, drying up only during phone calls to say goodbye and warn that she had flown to Denmark, forever, so that they would no longer look for her, but only write letters and come to visit. .
– Bring me a cup of tea with lemon, please. – With thin fingers with peeling varnish, she grabbed the flight attendant running like a hare by the hard textile sleeve so that she almost broke her nails.
She turned around with bulging eyes at the frightening-looking passenger. It was as if she couldn’t come to her senses, but not because of Glenda’s appearance that stopped her, but because of something more serious.
After pausing for a second, a middle-aged flight attendant with a very thin waist muttered something incomprehensible towards the nearly broken nails of the girl with the notebook and ran away.
– What a nightmare, there is no such service even on Ryanair, the cheapest airline at this time of year. They even give out blankets there, unlike this fabulously expensive business class on the damn Norwegian.
The indignant Glenda turned to her neighbor, who was sleeping nearby, hoping for a sympathetic cry, but he only shuddered from the unpleasant sounds and continued to snore.
Sighing with hopelessness, a disgruntled girl with long black hair and a face pale from almost a day of sobbing, buried herself in a clean lined sheet of paper.
The nib of an expensive pen wrote by itself. She did not have to make an effort to draw out the history of the last days on the notebook that had so kindly accepted her; everything went like clockwork.
The first lines of her worthless life, suffering and self-pity appeared on the white canvas.
“Beautiful and young, I sold myself like the last prostitute from King's Cross. On October seventh, two thousand and seventeen, Glenda Miller, rich and lonely, moves to live in Denmark to forget and start life anew.
I have nothing to lose. No apartment, no car, no family, no relatives.
My father died two years ago, and the guy is a thing of the past.
I miss you so much, dad.
You know, right after you died, I got a job at the Guardian. Only this helped me forget and start coping with everything alone.”
Warm streams flowed down my cheeks, numb from the cold and burning. An involuntary shudder ran through the body huddled in the chair.
“And a month ago I caught a really serious case for the first time. I finally grabbed the opportunity to become a great reporter. I could have saved England, I was on the trail of the criminal, but I still don’t know his face. And a week ago he left me an anonymous note giving me the choice to shut up or die.”
Here she interrupted and, mercilessly pressing the button to call the waiter, grumbled loudly:
– Will someone finally bring me tea today?
A moment later, the dark red business class curtain moved aside, and the same out-of-breath stewardess appeared in the aisle. White curls were hanging down on her forehead, and her mascara was running a little in the corners of her eyes. This happens when at the end of the day a girl corrects her makeup, but it no longer stays elastic, but treacherously spreads over her skin.
– Your tea, madam. I'm sorry for the delay.
Mentally complaining about the imperfection of the service staff, their appearance, forgetfulness and terrible service, Glenda was silent for a while, but then grabbed the paper cup with rapture. A moment later, she noticed that the woman’s hands were shaking and there was perspiration on her face and neck.
– Something happened, um… – she read the badge on the bright scarlet jacket – Anna?
– No, miss. – the flight attendant said, clearing her throat. – Just buckle up, please, there's a little turbulence.
Anna quickly ran away to the economy class cabin, and closed the short curtain behind her.
Glenda looked under her, since her seat was next to her, but saw only the legs of the flight attendant running away.
Then she looked out the porthole. Rain flooded the sky, and a thunderstorm broke it into small fragments. It is not surprising that in this cold and thoughts about fate, she had no time for the weather outside the window. Oddly enough, my hands still reached for the strap. Click, and now she is safe.
The tea turned out to be barely warm, as it happens in a roadside cafe, where water is still heated in a kettle, and electricity needs to be saved.
“And how much the hell is she getting paid?” – Glenda cursed to herself, but then stopped short.
The plane shook quite a bit.
“Okay, let’s say God punishes me for misplaced anger. Anna is not to blame for anything… Except for the cold, belated tea.”
Glenda calmed herself by swallowing a lemon with a crust. “Vitamin C is a very useful thing. At least I won’t get sick from the Norwegian winds.”
Christiane Lacroix again merged with her thin hand and the girl continued to write.
“Father, I sold my soul to the devil: I was so close to unearthing the dirtiest case in London, but they offered me money to leave me behind. It was a note from a criminal with an offer for a million pounds, just a minute.
And I would refuse, I’m not a corrupt bitch. Oh, sorry.
You never liked me to swear.
So, it’s all Gerard’s fault – my future husband. Can you imagine, that evening I returned home, and he was licking between the bitch’s legs. Do you remember Linda, my childhood friend?”
Glenda was seething with anger.
“Understand, I had no choice but to take this money to get out of damn London. I loved him.”
The disposable paper handkerchief was already completely wet and turned into a sticky lump, but a new series of tears required help. Luckily, a napkin was provided with the tea.
Glenda blew her nose and began to write further.
Suddenly the ink completely spilled onto the paper.
Suddenly the light in the cabin went out treacherously. People's faces were illuminated only by flashes of lightning. The pale yellow highlights were reminiscent of a post-mortem photograph. For a moment it seemed to her that the passengers were covered in blood. The wild horror of what she saw shook her being.
The plane took a giant leap. For a matter of seconds, Glenda lost consciousness. When I woke up, the light in the cabin was on again, and the morning sun was already shining outside the window. The storm front was successfully passed. Fortunately, the impact on the shelf was barely noticeable.
– Apparently, there is something wrong with the neck vessels. I read in a medical encyclopedia that this happens. You can lose consciousness and even fall asleep if the carotid and vertebral arteries are compressed. – she turned with relief to her seatmate who had woken up. To Glenda's surprise, he answered.
– Yes, miss. You could have sprained your neck here. I read it too, albeit in other sources. – he straightened up, as happens when you suddenly remember that this is an important person in front of you, or you just want to show off in front of a young woman. – Iver Larsen from Copenhagen. Nice to meet you. – a man of about forty-five with a beautiful Greek nose extended his right hand as if he had only dreamed of doing this the entire flight. Surprisingly, he wasn’t so kind when landing, he didn’t even help her carry her bags upstairs.
– Glenda Miller from London, now from Copenhagen. I'm planning to buy a house there.
“Why am I telling him everything? Maybe I miss communication so much that I’m ready to pour out my soul even to strangers? Well, he is handsome, strong build, light brown, somewhere ashy hair, gray-blue eyes. Typical Scandinavian, but very attractive. A little old, but there is something so familiar about it. I think he can be trusted. Fortunately, there is no ring on my finger.”
While all this heap of thoughts ran through her naturally beautiful, but tired from sobbing, head, Glenda drank the juice that that same inattentive flight attendant Anna had so kindly served.
Iver also slowly sipped a Coca-Cola and looked over the seats towards the pilot’s cabin.
“Something happened there five minutes ago, as if we were in a dangerous zone, something like the center of a thundercloud, into which the plane is forbidden to fly.”
– You were asleep, weren't you?
– Yes, but I have good hearing. Coming out of the cockpit, the flight attendant forgot to close it for a moment, and I heard a couple of remarks.
– And what did you hear? – Glenda asked almost with delight. Her body pulled closer to the speaker, her face burned with interest, and goosebumps ran across her skin. This happens to children when, on a late autumn evening, their grandmother tells creepy stories in an armchair by the fireplace. You seem to be scared, but you feel so comfortable, because there is someone nearby who will save you from all the monsters of the world.
– “Branch of Hell.” We can't get around. We are walking straight into the face of death…
– What, that’s what they said?
– Yes. I reproduced it exactly.
– What a nightmare. What else have you heard? – No matter how hard she tried, the bloody faces could not leave Glenda’s head. Still, she managed to overcome herself and push away the terrible memories for a while.
– Nothing, then the light went out, and then everything cleared up.
– Marvelous. So does this mean we have passed death?
– One hundred percent.
– Lucky ones. I think this is a sign! – A sign? Which one?
– Today I was in such a decline that life was not nice to me. And now, having almost lost her, I understand that no guys in the world can deprive me of my thirst for life.
– So that's what it's all about! Love story. “Larsen’s face changed; he peered into Glenda’s brown eyes to see in them the answer to his silent question. “Are you still in love with that bastard who made you think about death?”
– You're right, but it's over. My life begins again. – she tore out the previously covered sheet of notebook and, without any regret, crumbled it into small pieces.
– If you drive along Vesterbrogade, you will see a small street called Helgolandskeid, where a nice two-story apartment with a private entrance from the street is for sale. I know the owner, I can tell you his number.
Glenda was a little taken aback by such a sudden transition back to the topic of her migration. This man is interested in her, one hundred percent. How else can you explain all this?
– Certainly! I would be grateful. – Glenda suddenly pulled herself up for her naivety and stupidity. What if he specifically sells her a house, which he will visit without invitation and rape her. – Are you by any chance a maniac?
A roar of laughter shook all of Mr. Larsen's muscles. He couldn’t stop for a long time, and people from the neighboring seats began to turn to look at him. It was so strange for her, Glenda, to feel alarmed and safe at the same time.
“He seems very social, but these are the people who end up in the dock as the most dangerous criminals. And also this look, cold and with a grin, saying, “I’m still smarter and stronger than you, stupid. I am a wolf, and you are a sheep. You can't figure me out." Although, he looks more like a cop than a killer. OK. Let him give me the number. At least I can look at this house, and I don’t necessarily like it.”
Kastrup greeted passengers with European style and long, exhausting corridors.
Luckily, Glenda was flying business class and she and her new acquaintance were taken in a minivan straight to the luggage compartment.
– Well, I was glad to meet you. I hope you will call my friend and consider this lucrative offer. – the northern accent betrayed a true Dane, although he spoke good English. Iver held out a piece of paper and, as if involuntarily, touched Glenda’s hand.
– Me too. Thank you. And how much is he asking for the house? – she did not allow herself to pay attention to this sly gesture.
– It seems like a hundred thousand euros. I can’t afford such a house, but I think it’s just right for you.
– Why do you think so? Didn't we fly business class together?
– Well, I flew for work, the bosses paid all the expenses. And you are going to move for a personal matter, therefore the wind is not blowing in your pocket.
“The wind isn’t blowing in your pocket? What kind of stupid phrase is this? What a boor. It's time for me to leave, I started chatting a lot with this stranger. Although if you think about it, the apartment is really inexpensive. A truly attractive offer."
Glenda smiled tightly, but her gaze remained hawk-like. Distrust oozed from her entire nature.
– Well, all the best, miss. Take care of yourself. – Patting the taxi cab, Iver sent Glenda on her way. Like a husband or father, or just a doorman, putting heavy bags in the trunk, he agreed with the taxi driver about the safety of the passenger right up to the hotel.
She saw him off in expressive silence, smiling as much as she could. This happens when you suspect someone, but don’t want to show it.
“Very strange guy. And what do I like about it? It’s like being so familiar, but at the same time dangerous.”
The unpleasant Danish language with a rough pronunciation now seemed very nice against the backdrop of all this splendor: European houses and streets, cyclists everywhere, men and women with naturally white hair and blue eyes like angels. The taxi driver was talking to the dispatcher, the radio was squealing incessantly, and Glenda was humming a new mantra to herself: “I’m starting my life again, Copenhagen is my love. I’m starting my life again, Copenhagen is my love…”
The Petri Hotel on Crystalgade turned out to be not far from the street where she was going to go today to look at a house, beautiful, expensive, and in status just right for her budget.
His pomp was expressed in conservatism and was a little reminiscent of old England. The interior is designed in an attractive Bavarian style, with textures complemented by shades of green from malachite to forest green, so reminiscent of her home in Sussex. The mother also loved to upholster everything in green; she even preferred to see her daughter in such colors. The beautiful emerald prom dress was her last gift before her death.
From such memories Glenda shivered in her chair, waiting for the registration.
Fifteen minutes later, the prompt doorman had already carried her things into a spacious room with a view of the Town Hall, as well as parquet floors, a huge bed in the middle of the bedroom and a dark azure leather sofa
She booked three days for a thousand euros, hoping to buy ready-made housing during this period, complete all the documents and move.
Chapter 2
Glenda had already had time to rest from the overnight flight and, full of energy in western jeans and a Ralph Lauren T-shirt, headed to watch the first version.
Summer in Denmark is as hot as in England. The lunch haze wiped out half of the capital's population. They hid in their air-conditioned apartments, and the most persistent wore hats.
Unfortunately, Glenda did not buy herself a hat or cap, although there was something to match her polo style. Relying on her newly curled curls, she walked boldly along the sunny side of the street.
Half an hour ago, tormented by unbearable doubts, she nevertheless called that number from the hands of a terrible and wonderful stranger. Much to her disappointment, he immediately answered the phone, and to make matters worse, he was right there. Mr. Holstein had just received the customers, and was ready to wait a little for her too. “You are incredibly lucky, Miss Miller, that the house has not yet been sold. This is a wonderful place in the very center of Copenhagen, next to the artificial lake St. Jorgen Se, shops, restaurants, cinema, clubs, and it’s like you’re taking it for nothing.”
The two-story wooden apartment building with its peeling blue paint looked clean and well-kept, just a little worn from time to time. Glenda liked the facade, although old, but cozy, it reminded her so much of home that thoughts of buying it were obsessively spinning in her head.
Mr. Holstein turned out to be an old Jew. Short in stature with a belly as round as a ball, he resembled her grandfather Beer, as his father nicknamed him for his eternal abuse of high-proof drinks, especially beer.
The unpleasant, sly smile hid some kind of trick, but she couldn’t figure out what.
A clean entrance hall, a spacious kitchen and living room, the second floor of two bedrooms simply sparkled from the recent cleaning. The smell was of fresh baked goods from a nearby pizzeria, so it was impossible to comprehend why such magnificent housing could cost so little, and even for a Jew.
– What’s wrong here, admit it right away. – the girl demanded, narrowing her hawk eye.
More recently, she was questioning administration officials in London with the same intensity, looking for clues in suspicious reshuffles in posts and the upcoming election of the British Prime Minister.
– Darling, take it and that’s it. – After a pause, the owner of the house began. He seemed startled by the question, but for a moment, no more. This happens if an actor is poorly trained, and he is thrown off by a dissatisfied exclamation from the director. Then the smile appeared again on the shiny face.
– This will not work. Confess, or I'll go home.
Unable to withstand her pressure, the old Jew nevertheless cried out.
– There are ghosts roaming here!
The thin athletic body shook in feverish laughter. This old guy has completely lost his mind. “God, how lucky I am. I buy a house three times cheaper than the market price, which, due to random circumstances, was inherited from a crazy Jew. Well, we have to take it."
Mr. Holstein laughed timidly along with Glenda, but his hands began to tremble.
– I'm buying.
Surprised by such a sudden change in mood and the pleasant outcome of the meeting, the owner squealed with pleasure.
The new owner of the apartment, when signing the contract, could not help but notice some oddities, but she reassured herself that she had simply overheated her head in the sun.
It seemed to her for a moment that her right big toe was missing, that instead of it there was a bloody stump with dried blood. She closed her eyes and looked again at the well-groomed foot in the sandal, the burgundy polish looked great on her big toe.
After shaking hands after a successful transaction, the man with a check for an enviable amount and the girl with the keys to her own home in the city center went off on opposite sides of the street. Walking proudly along Vesterbrogade, Glenda thought about how quickly she was changing her life to a new one. A new home, although previously she had only rented accommodation in London. A new i, because she had never curled her hair before. All that's left is to find a guy and a job, and it's done.
“Do I want a new relationship so soon after cheating? No I do not want to. I need a new job. For what? To feed yourself? I have a ton of money, I could spend another whole year on a spree and still have some left over, considering my needs. Maybe it’s worth resting a little and surrendering to life as it is, completely, all-consumingly?”
Reasoning in this way, Glenda Miller plunged into a three-day bender. Clubs, parties, new acquaintances and love. That evening, while celebrating the purchase of her first property in Dunkel, she immediately hooked up with the young and handsome Jornas. Rocking out to electro house and tequila, he seemed incredibly attractive to her, and she went with him to her room.
The next morning, he proposed a relationship with her, and without resisting for a long time, the girl, who had recently realized that she had begun a new round of life, agreed.
They walked around the city for two more days, hanging over their martinis in broad daylight. At night we rode in a limousine with his friends and girlfriends, honked the horn and returned to the hotel in the morning.
But on the morning of the third day, intoxication still covered the young bodies, and pale from poisoning, they sat near the toilets, washing their stomachs.
– Do you believe in ghosts? – suffering from a headache, but with relief after vomiting, Glenda started a sober conversation with Jornas for the first time.
– I prefer to think so, otherwise my brother has actually gone crazy. – The young brown-haired man smiled sadly.
– What, your brother believes in them?
– He doesn’t just believe, he claims that he sees them regularly. That's why my parents gave him to a welfare home when they were still alive.
– House of Welfare? What is this?
– This is such a mental hospital at the church. The nurses and doctors are Lutherans, and the patients are churchgoers. – Seeing his girlfriend’s bewilderment, Jornas corrected himself. – Well, that is, there are many parishioners in the church itself and they are all, of course, healthy, it’s just that only the mentally ill and crippled are sent to the hospital.
– And how do they treat them?
– Peace and quiet, no injections, straitjackets, electric shocks or other torture.
It’s amazing, I didn’t believe it until I saw it. My brother hangs out there, but still talks about ghosts. Nobody believes him except me.
– So you still think that they exist? – Glenda did not let up. For the first time she felt uneasy. Goosebumps ran over my naked body. What if the old Jew is right, and that's why he tried so hard to get rid of this house as quickly as possible?
– Yes, only in the universes of those who see them. And some in the universe have vampires, some have fairies and unicorns. We are all a little dreamers, but we should not be blamed for this, or even less considered sick.
– So you don’t think your brother is sick, you just think that these are his fantasies?
– Something like that?
– Wait, I don’t understand anything, do you believe or not in the other world? – Glenda was already quite angry: she did not like ambiguity and philosophical reasoning, especially on topics as far from reality as this.
– Of course not. Only that there are no crazy people, that people believe what they want! – Jornas turned pink from Glenda’s screams, and he himself became a little angry. – Why are you so wound up?
– Nothing. Just don't say anything stupid anymore, okay? – She jumped up and ran to the bed. There was no more nausea, my head stopped hurting. Irritation mobilized her half-dead body and she again wanted to do something. – Let’s go, I’ll show you my house!
– Would you like to show me your secluded place? – the guy who walked away so easily asked slyly, leaving the bathroom. He is like a dog, after being poked with his nose in the tray, he again saw the disposition of the mistress and happily runs for new strokes.
– And not only in this sense. – Glenda supported the game and patted the sheet with her palm.
Chapter 3
It was a rainy evening in Copenhagen. Cold sea air blew in from the north. The gray street was filled with bright light from windows and shop windows, from city lighting and telephones, which were buried in passers-by who met along the way.
The taxi brought them there quickly; even in the rain there are no traffic jams in Denmark. The car market is expensive here, so bikes get residents where they need to go while also helping them stay fit and healthy.
– Your things, miss. – the taxi driver unloaded his luggage near the porch.
– Thank you Thomas. – Jornas paid and brought the suitcases into the house.
The hand reached for the switch. Click, second, no reaction.
– So. There is no light in the hallway. – the young man concluded displeasedly.
She liked that he behaved so like a boss. “Well, handsome, smart, kind and cheerful, he would be a wonderful husband. But I’m not a match for him at all, I’m eccentric, caustic, it’s unlikely that anyone will change me.”
He went into the kitchen, and then into the living room and into the toilet combined with a bathroom; there was no light there either.
– Maybe there is one on the second floor? – Glenda, as if spellbound, looked at her lover in a brown fitted raincoat. He quickly ran up the stairs, and a second later obscene language was heard and this made her laugh quite a bit.
– Looks like it's time to look for candles in the house, because in the dark I won't get into the electrical unit. We spend the night in a romantic setting.
– With pleasure, my hero. – Glenda said admiringly, but with some mockery. She, like a stand-up actress, constantly teased him, but now he was angry at her barbs.
– Do you want me to go check the connection?
– No, what are you talking about, suddenly you get an electric shock. – Glenda continued to laugh.
– Okay, I'll go, but if anything happens, it will be on your conscience.
– Good good. I will take upon myself all the sin of the world. – now even she didn’t expect this from herself. “I think it’s a big overkill. It's probably a withdrawal syndrome. Still, drinking for three days is not a test for the faint of heart.” Laughed at myself again. And at this time Jornas went to the shield.
After rummaging through the switching elements, Jornas pressed something, and light illuminated the apartment on both floors.
– Oh, my hero. Forgive me, stupid woman, for joking with you. You have proven that you are brave, and now I am sure I have nothing to fear. – Glenda kissed her boyfriend’s pouty lips, and he broke into a satisfied smile.
Now the house looked like a charming family nest, Glenda even imagined children running around. But then a picture from her bedroom in London appeared before her eyes. Will she ever be able to trust a man again? Will she ever have a happy marriage?