Ingvild looks at him for a long time, before she nods.
‘I barely remember what happened yesterday. I had run out of pills, too, I guess they were the ones Stefan took, so I couldn’t get to sleep, either. I doubt I would have slept anyway.’
Her eyes are red.
‘Why did you come here?’
‘So I could get my revenge. In my own way.’
‘How did you persuade Yngve to come with you?’
‘I told him I needed to be here, in the tent, to see if I could even begin to understand what my son had done. It wasn’t just an excuse. I really needed to. Does that sound strange to you?’
He shakes his head.
‘Now that I’m here, it feels a little weird. But I know how Stefan felt. I recognise the hatred. And, as his mother, that’s a relationship that I’m grateful for.’
He is about to say something, but her face fills with contempt and anger. Before he has time to react, before he has time to grab her, she has picked up one of the rocks and thrown it at Yngve. She hits his shoulder, he jerks and wakes up; slowly his eyes open, he lifts his head slightly, but he is too deep in the hole to be able to move much. Finally, he sees Ingvild, then Henning, and understands what is about to happen. He tries to raise his arms in self-defence, but they are trapped in the ground. Ingvild picks up another rock.
‘Wait. Ingvild, don’t — ’
Yngve screams, Henning takes a long step towards Ingvild to stop her, but she sees him, her eyes widen and she holds the mobile in front of her, waving it at him, pressing it; sparks fly, and he stops and retreats.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Yngve howls.
‘You killed that whore,’ Ingvild hisses. ‘Yes, you, Yngve. If only you had stayed away from her, none of this would have happened. You killed Stefan too, you drove him to take his own life — ’
‘Ingvild, it — ’
‘Oh, stop whining. It’s only fair that you get a taste of your own medicine, the same rocks, and that it happens here, in the same place, so you can die in the same way as your mistress, that whore — ’
‘It wasn’t — ’
‘Oh, shut up.’
Ingvild has picked up another rock, she is foaming at the mouth and her eyes shine with hatred. Henning doesn’t know how to stop her; she waves her mobile maniacally, pointing it at him. Should I call for help, he thinks? No use, they won’t get here in time. The rocks are so heavy that a single, well-aimed throw could be the end of Yngve. Henning tries to think of something clever to say, but he can’t find the words, he finds nothing, so he shuffles his feet on the damp grass. Then he sees Ingvild raise the rock above her head and aim.
‘It’s because you fucked her, you bastard. I know I haven’t been a wife to you for a long time, I have been a zombie ever since I was raped, but you should have helped me, you should have helped me, you shit, you shouldn’t have raped my soul, and worst of all, worst of all, you shouldn’t have driven our son insane. I know, I know how he felt when he stood here, like me, holding the stone over his head, when he aimed it at that whore who ruined everything.’
‘But I never slept with Henriette.’ Yngve yelps and squeezes his eyes shut. Henning raises his arms in an impotent effort to defend himself against her, even though she is standing several metres away from him and he, too, shuts his eyes, and waits for the thud and the scream.
It never comes.
He opens his eyes again. Ingvild is still holding the stone above her head. She is gasping for air.
‘I swear I never slept with Henriette.’
Yngve’s voice is pitiful, on the brink of tears. Then Henning hears movement behind him.
‘No. But you did sleep with me.’
Henning spins around. And, for the second time in less than an hour, he is looking straight into the eyes of Anette Skoppum.
Chapter 65
If there is a God, then he has just pressed the pause button. Henning’s jaw drops. Anette enters and looks at them all in turn.
‘Sorry, Juul,’ she says. ‘My curiosity got the better of me.’
He looks at her without blinking.
‘W-who are you?’ Ingvild says.
‘I’m the woman your husband had sex with.’
She says it straight out, no embarrassment, no anger, presents it as a purely factual matter. And Henning knows he isn’t the only one who is dumbstruck.
‘But — ’ Ingvild’s voice is devoid of strength.
‘I can see why Stefan thought it was Henriette. I mean, look at me, I’m not a patch on her. Her script, too, made it obvious, I would have thought.’
Anette looks at Yngve. He stares at the ground, shamefaced. A tear rolls down his cheek. His hair, what little he has, is bathed in sweat.
‘And Henriette was a huge flirt, everyone knew that. She could charm the birds off the trees, if she put her mind to it.’
They all look at Yngve, who sighs and shakes his head.
‘It wasn’t very easy, for any of us, in the time after… after what happened to Ingvild. It hadn’t been that good before, and afterwards, well, it was completely impossible to live together as man and wife. Every time I came near you, you would move away, you almost shuddered when I, your husband, came near you.’
Yngve looks at her.
‘Physical contact was an unknown concept. And then I met Henriette
…’
He shakes his head again.
‘She was beautiful, full of life, clever, and yes, she flirted and I won’t deny that she stirred feelings in me, which I thought were long dead. But I didn’t want to destroy the trust between us. After all, I was her tutor, her supervisor, and I couldn’t — ’
Foldvik looks at them in turn. His eyes stop at Anette. Henning can see that Foldvik is consumed by remorse.
Anette takes another step inside. She, too, is soaked to the skin. Henning wonders what made her come back. He can understand her being curious, but why drop such a bombshell?
Of course. To put things into perspective. If Ingvild had killed her husband for having had an affair with Henriette, the truth — when it came out later — would have destroyed Ingvild completely. How can you live with the knowledge that your own son killed the wrong woman and you killed your husband because he recklessly drove your son mad?
Ingvild looks like she has a puncture. Her shoulders sag, her back is hunched, her eyes are swollen. Henning looks at Anette. She is much smarter than he had assumed.
‘I’m sorry, Ingvild,’ Anette continues. ‘I never meant for this to happen. It just did. I had been working on an idea for a long time, I had written quite a good storyline, too, which I wanted Yngve to take a look at. I knew that he had helped Henriette secure an option with Spot the Difference Productions, and thought he might be able to help me as well. Alcohol was involved, I won’t deny it, but we chatted in his office, and — ’
‘Anette, don’t — ’
Yngve closes his eyes. Anette holds up her hands.
‘No, I won’t go on. I just want to apologise. For the harm I’ve caused you. If I had known what it would lead to, then — ’
She is about to complete the sentence, but breaks off. She, too, is crying now. She steps towards Ingvild, bends down and places her hand on her back. At that moment, Ingvild’s arm shoots out. Henning doesn’t see it until it is too late, but Ingvild has got her mobile out and presses it against Anette’s neck. Zzzzzzt. She gives Anette a shock which floors her. Henning is about to jump on Ingvild to prevent her from releasing more hatred, from taking it out on Anette, who lies unconscious on the grass, face down. But Ingvild holds out her hands as she gets up. She says nothing, she just looks straight ahead with that faraway expression and lets the mobile drop. It lands right next to Anette.
‘You can call the police now,’ Ingvild says to him, quietly. The look in her eyes is dull, vacant. Henning stares at her for a long time before he takes his mobile out of his wet jacket pocket, wipes the display and sees that he has a signal.