She started to cough. – Mailin did everything she could to help you, she managed to say. – Mailin looked after you.
He snorted. – She tricked me into talking. And while I was talking, she sat there stroking me. Stripped me naked. Had me in her office.
– You’re lying. Mailin would never have done that.
He tightened the rope around her neck. – Maybe your sister wasn’t quite the saint you think she was.
– But she lived with you, Liss choked. – You were going to get married.
His eyes widened and darkened. Keep Midsummer’s Day free, she heard somewhere inside herself. It was him, Viljam, who had sent that message from Mailin’s phone.
She forced herself to say the one thing she knew she mustn’t say:
– She was going to leave you.
He gave a jerk on the rope, it cut into the skin of her neck. Then she felt her head growing, the room filling with a reddish smoke.
– She was supposed to love everything about me, he hissed, – no matter what I’d done. No matter what they’d done to me. But she lied. I have never been able to stand people lying to me. Do you understand? When someone starts to lie, it’s over.
Suddenly he took the tension off the rope. The air etched its way down into her chest. – Have you understood now? Have you seen enough?
Patches of red pulsating inside fog. Then they grew paler, and things cleared again. She could see he was holding something in his hand, a needle for a hypodermic syringe. He pulled it out of its sheath. She felt him place the needle against her cheek, make a careful scratch, draw it up in the direction of her right eye.
– Have you seen enough? he asked again.
She tried to turn her head to one side. He tightened the noose. The red-flecked fog came whirling back.
She opened her mouth. – Viljam… Jo.
It sounded like a prayer, but it didn’t come from her. The voice was dark and hoarse.
– Now it’s Jo, he howled. – Sweet Jo and all the rest of it.
He lowered the needle and drove it into her nipple. The pain was even sharper; it travelled on through the breast and released something in her back like the tendrils of a jellyfish spreading and burning through her whole body.
– You’re a nice boy, Jo. You’re so nice, so nice. There’s nothing you can’t do to me. Not one fucking thing. Because that’s the way you think, you too. You think I don’t know you, Liss Bjerke? You think Mailin didn’t tell me everything worth knowing about you? The rest being rubbish.
He drew out the needle, moved his hand to her forehead and placed a finger on her eyelid, pulled it up. She was totally awake now, straining as hard as she could to move her head. He grabbed hold of her hair and held her in an iron grip. She felt the cold tip touch against the eyeball. Like an insect landing there with its great sting ready. A couple of pricks, and then a membrane breached. A different pain, this one. It tore her open, and there was nowhere for her to hide. Her eye ran over, the light from the lamp changed colour, things turned black, and from this blackness an arc of rainbow colours spun.
– I’ll show you the place, she shrieked.
He bent down close to her face. – What place?
– Down by the lake.
He pulled the needle out again; fluid ran down her cheek.
– Not the other, she pleaded. – Not yet. Not until I’ve shown you the place.
– The one you wrote about in the notebook? Where you’re going to lie down in the snow and look up through the trees and freeze to death?
She tried to nod. – It isn’t far away.
He placed the needle against her eyelid. Then he withdrew it, untied the rope, pulled her up by the hair and shoved her across the floor.
– Show me, he hissed, grabbing the axe from the fireplace. – Show me the place where you want to die.
She walked in front of him, barefoot and naked. The wind was blowing straight off Morr Water, stinging against her breasts and thighs. His footsteps in the snow a few metres behind her. You’re afraid, Liss. Mailin’s voice is gone now; it’s her father talking to her. At last you’re afraid. I am afraid. You don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. She put her head back. Through her one eye she could just make out a strip of something grey in the darkness between the trees. That strip is all that’s left. And the sound of the wind. That was what I wanted that time you left, to lie down in the snow, feel the cold wrap itself around me and dissolve me. You’re the one I’ll miss, Liss. We’re the same, you and I.
She turned to face the tall, slender figure. The face came out of the grey, pressed right up against hers.
– Can I sit on that rock up there for a moment? Look out across the water. Just a few minutes.
He grunted. She could no longer feel her feet. The cold had eaten its way up her legs, as far as the knees. She slipped on the icy rock.
– Help me, she pleaded.
He climbed up beside her, squatted down, took hold under her arms and lifted her up. For a moment they were standing close to each other. She looked up into his face. The eyes weren’t angry any more. They were filled with something else.
– Poor Liss, he whispered.
She dived forward suddenly, butted him with all the strength that was left in her frozen body. He wavered, standing on the edge and flapping with his arms, dropped the axe and tried to hold on to her smooth shoulder. One second, two seconds. Then he tumbled backwards. She heard something hitting the jutting rock, and a splash as he slithered down into the open channel in the ice.
She slid down the track on her backside, got to her feet. Thought she heard him calling, didn’t turn round. It’s the wind calling. She began scrambling through the deep snow. Not to the cabin. He’ll find you there. She ran past the shed. You will not die, Liss. She crawled along the slope until she found the place where it wasn’t so steep. Snaked her way upwards. The snow kept pulling her down, but she didn’t want to disappear into it any more. It was tougher up on the top. She tried to run, between the trees. Stopped behind a thick spruce. Then she heard footsteps, squatted down below the lowest branch. That whisper in her ear: Liss, you’re not going anywhere without me. She slumped against the trunk, pressing her cheek to the rough bark.
A little later, a minute maybe, or perhaps ten: she stood up again. Peered out from under the branches. She knew these trees. They showed her the way to go. It was her forest, not his.
She stumbled over the snowdrift and down on to the road. Wanted to put her feet down beneath her, but they weren’t hers any more. She tried crawling along on her stomach, hands still locked behind her back. She managed a few metres before her whole body shrivelled. She curled into a ball, drew her legs up under her.
In the distance, the sound of an engine. She turned her head, enough to see the light dancing between the trees. They’ve come to fetch you, Liss. This is where you were going.
EPILOGUE
Tuesday 20 January
JENNIFER PLÅTERUD SWITCHED off the computer, hung her white coat in the cupboard, let herself out into the corridor and locked the door behind her. She had just decided she was going to treat herself to a new pair of boots. She’d seen them on the net at Hatty and Moo. They were made of antelope leather too, but with a bronze buckle that gave them a touch of roughness that suited the mood she was in these days.
The time was 4.15 The tenth class parent-teacher evening was due to begin at seven, and in Ivar’s opinion it was time she took a turn for once. She had also promised to have dinner ready before that, because both boys had sports practice to go to. Thinking about it, it was actually Ivar’s turn to go to the meeting, and she was annoyed with herself for letting herself be persuaded. She took another glance at her watch and decided to stick to what she had already decided to do. In spite of all her domestic obligations, she headed up towards the main wing of the Riks Hospital and into the large hallway that always reminded her of an aeroplane hangar.