Jazmine’s smile, intended to accompany this carefree confession, was suddenly wiped off her face as the bricklayer lunged at her, knocking her flat to the ground.
He was just about to kick her where she lay but stopped mid-action and fell quietly to his knees. The bottle of wine Denise had brought to their get-together was obviously more than his bull-like neck could take.
—
The cobbles on the pavement by the canal on Gammel Strand were warm with the rays of the sun when they sat down under the railings side by side with another group of young people who were sitting with their legs against the wharf and the water beneath them. The summer sun was coming out and the light was sharp, so Jazmine’s cheek wasn’t easy to miss.
“Cheers,” said Denise, passing the bottle of red wine.
“And cheers to you.” Jazmine gestured toward Denise, raising the bottle to her mouth and taking a good swig. “And also to you,” she said to the bottle before passing it on to Michelle.
“You shouldn’t have kicked him so hard when he was lying there, Jazmine,” Michelle said quietly. “I didn’t like him bleeding from his head. Why did you do it? He was already unconscious.”
“I was raised badly,” she offered.
They looked at one another for a moment and then Michelle started to laugh. “Selfies!” she shouted and pulled out her phone.
Denise smiled. “Watch you don’t drop it in the water,” she said as they nudged up closer to one another.
“We look damn good together, don’t you think?” Michelle held out her cell at arm’s length. “There aren’t many here with better legs than us,” she said, laughing.
Denise nodded. “That was a good one you pulled at the café, Jazmine. I think we have the makings of a good team.”
“Then maybe we can call ourselves the White Ladies,” Michelle said with a laugh. Two swigs and the red wine was already having an effect on her.
Denise smiled. “You were going to tell us a secret, Jazmine. How about now?”
“Okay. But I don’t want to hear a bad word about it afterward. No judgment or shit. I’ve had enough of that from home, all right?”
They swore silently, raised their hands, and laughed. How bad could it be?
“When we met each other it was only the third time in six years that I’d gone to the social to beg, but I’ve actually been on benefits the whole time.”
“How?” Michelle sounded especially interested. Not surprising in her situation.
“I make sure I’m pregnant and go through with the pregnancy. I’ve done it four times now.”
Denise’s head shot forward. “You’ve what?”
“Yeah, you heard. You look a state for a while—stomach, tits, and whatnot—but I’ve always regained my figure.” She patted her flat stomach. Mother to four children and not a visible trace.
“Have you got a guy?” Michelle asked naively.
Jazmine laughed without making a sound. That was obviously the point.
“Adopted, all four. The system is simple. Get pregnant with someone, complain about pelvic joint pain or some other bullshit, and the social will come to your rescue. When they start making noises about you finding work, you just get pregnant again. They remove the baby automatically after a while, and then you’re pregnant again and saved one more time. It’s been a few months now, so lately I’ve just been going to the meetings at the social.” She laughed.
Michelle reached out for the bottle. “I wouldn’t be able to do that,” she said. “I really dream about having kids even if it probably won’t be with Patrick.” She took a swig and turned to Jazmine. “So you don’t know who the father is?”
Jazmine shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe for one of them, but it’s completely irrelevant.”
Denise followed the ripples on the water when yet another tour boat had sailed past them. Jazmine wasn’t like anyone she’d met before. A remarkable woman.
“Are you pregnant now?” she asked.
Jazmine shook her head. “But maybe in a week. Who knows?” She tried to force a smile. It was obvious that there were other scenarios she’d rather imagine.
Was she maybe thinking that it was time to consider new survival strategies?
“What about that girl gang? What if you’re pregnant and they assault you? Have you thought about that?” asked Michelle.
She nodded. “I’m moving away from the area, anyway.” She shrugged her shoulders apologetically. “Yeah, I still live at home. Haven’t I mentioned that?”
They didn’t answer, but then she hadn’t expected them to.
“‘Next time you’re pregnant, I’ll kick you out!’ my mom shouts all the time.” Jazmine pursed her lips. “I just need to find a place, then I’m out of there.”
Denise nodded. Untenable living situations for all three of them.
“If you don’t dream about having kids, what do you dream about, Jazmine?” asked Michelle. She obviously hadn’t moved on.
Jazmine looked blank. Those sorts of dreams were obviously not something she mulled over on a daily basis.
“Choose whatever you want,” Michelle suggested, trying to help her along.
“Okay. Then it’s to beat up that lousy caseworker Anne-Line Svendsen and never have to go back to the social.”
Denise laughed and Michelle nodded. “Yeah, just be totally free. Maybe some sort of reality TV show where you can win money, then you could do whatever you wanted.”
Then they turned toward Denise with an encouraging look.
“Oh, is it my turn? But you’ve already mentioned everything. Win a load of money and sort out that bitch caseworker once and for all.”
They looked at one another in silence, as if picturing how they could put an end to all their problems.
10
Friday, May 13th, 2016
“Frustration” was a moderate word to describe Carl’s state of mind after having waited in vain for more than half an hour in the courtroom. Copenhagen resembled a bombsite now more than ever due to the terrible coordination of roadworks and diversions as a result of building the metro; be that as it may, if he and the witnesses could manage to turn up on time despite the difficulties, then the damn judge should be able to manage it too.
All things considered, it was a real bummer of a case, and now it had been postponed again. And to make matters worse, it wasn’t even a case within Carl’s remit; he had just been on a routine investigation in the vicinity when the woman screamed for help from inside a house.
Carl glanced over at the glowering defendant. Three months earlier he had been standing in front of Carl with a claw hammer, threatening that if he didn’t leave his property he’d plant the hammer in his head. It was one of the few times Carl had wished that he had had his service revolver with him. So he did what the man asked and left.
When he returned twenty minutes later with backup and kicked the door in, the man had already cracked his Filipino girlfriend’s jaw and trampled on her, breaking every rib on her breastbone. Definitely not a pretty sight.