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Axel had told the boys the same story, but neither of them had had nightmares afterwards. Before Marlen could get back to sleep, he had to drive the dead twin away. He tucked the duvet tightly around her into a cocoon, and assured her that nobody could get at her now. On top of that, Mikk the mountain lion and Geiki the goat were standing guard around the bed. It all worked, and he heard no more from her.

Before returning to his chair on the terrace Axel had popped downstairs to have a few words with Tom. He stopped outside the door and listened to the reedy voice within. He felt as though he knew the song now, even though he’d only heard it in snatches. When Marlen was going to sleep, Tom had to turn off his amplifier, and his voice sounded even more frail against the almost inaudible chords from the guitar.

Axel had gone back upstairs without knocking. Taken the bottle of cognac and a glass out into the dark with him. Moments later Tom appeared in the doorway asking if he could spend the night at his friend Findus’s house, the lad he was going to start a band with. Axel reluctantly agreed. It was better than him sitting on his own in his bedroom all evening. After dinner he’d been on the point of suggesting they might do something together, but he’d waited too long and then it was too late. Daniel was getting to be more and more like a friend the older he got, he thought. Axel could talk about most things with him, and recognised himself in much of what his elder son said. And Marlen could always make him laugh with her strange notions. But there was something about Tom that made him hesitate to approach too close. He didn’t know what it was, only that it made him feel shy and clumsy.

He poured himself a glass and sat there inhaling the scent of the golden liquid. He’d bought the bottle on the plane back from Cyprus. They’d spent their Easter holiday there, the last holiday before Daniel moved away from home. Axel had dreaded it. And the sharp white sun and the turquoise sea had heightened his feeling of tristesse. The bus driver who drove them out to the airport was called Andreas. Axel had conversed with him during one of the outings they’d gone on. They were both about the same age. The driver had small eyes and a nose that had been broken and grown back crooked. He watched Bie as she climbed aboard in the short white frock that clung to her thighs and was almost translucent, and Marlen, Tom and Daniel as they followed her into the bus. As Axel passed him, bringing up the rear, he exclaimed: You must be a very happy man. He laughed, exposing brown gums. And when Axel sat down in the back of the bus, and Bie pinched his thigh and whispered in his ear that she fancied him, and he put his arm around her and looked at the desolate yellow land gliding by outside, he thought: I must be a very happy man.

The fire had gone out. He poured himself another glass, studied the dying embers as they slowly paled. He thought: I will go up to Miriam’s. I’ll sit there in her attic apartment in Rodeløkka. Sit there and not do anything but drink the coffee she makes, and talk to her.

He was on his way to the bathroom when he heard a car down in the driveway. He looked out and saw a taxi at the gate. The time was 2.15. Sound of the door being unlocked, Bie’s bunch of keys chinking against the glass top of the chest of drawers.

He undressed and stood in his boxers, glanced at himself in the mirror. He still looked like he kept himself in shape, though the line down to the ridge of the hips had acquired a tiny undulation. A few moments later she came into the bathroom and stood behind him.

– Are you still up?

He looked at her in the mirror.

– Unless I’m sleepwalking.

Her hair was unkempt and her eyes were bleary, though the make-up hadn’t run. She was wearing a dark green tight-fitting satin dress, with shoulder straps and a plunging neckline. There was a hint of green in her eyeshadow too. When she was made up like that, accentuating the slightly slanting eyes and the high cheekbones, she might be taken for five years younger. Maybe more.

He turned, inhaling. The perfume he usually bought her, the way it smelt hours later, mingling with the smell of her sweat and of other people’s cigarettes. A second, foreign perfume was mixed in with the smell of Shalimar; something a man would wear. He could follow the thought, conjure up images of who she’d been sitting with, dancing with. He took her by the arm and pulled her towards him.

– Christ, she murmured as he started to kiss her. – You’re hot for it.

Closer and closer it came, the smell of the strange, the thing he didn’t know about, that turned her into something other than the person he knew. Her tongue tasted of wine, but vodka too, or gin. It was not often she could be persuaded to drink spirits, and when he lifted her skirt and took hold of her naked buttocks, she groaned and began to pull at his boxer shorts.

He lifted her up on to the rim of the basin, pulled off the translucent string.

– Axel, she scolded him. – Not here, the kids might wake up.

But that was exactly what she wanted, for him to take her right there and then, sitting on the cold porcelain basin, only half undressed, protesting against the damage to her dress when he pulled the shoulder straps down and fastened his mouth to one of her breasts, raised her lower body and pushed himself inside her.

When she came, she swallowed back the sounds. It ended up a long-drawn-out rattle, unlike anything he’d ever heard from her before. He didn’t come. When it was over for her, he carried her out of the bathroom.

– Wait, she groaned. – At least let me pee.

He got into bed. Through the open door he heard her flush the toilet, wash her hands, open the cupboard, almost certainly to remove her contact lenses. Then she came padding into him, naked, and closed the door behind her.

– Can’t a poor girl get even a few hours’ sleep? she complained.

He pulled her down and turned her round. – Oh Axel, she moaned, the way he was used to hearing her. He bent her body at the hips and entered her from behind, lying there without moving, like an insect.

– Tell me where you’ve been, he whispered as he began to move slowly inside her.

– What is it with you, Axel? she groaned.

– Tell me what you did tonight.

– Lotta and Maren. We ate at Theatrecaféen. Then we went on to Smuget.

– Did you meet anyone?

She twisted her body.

– A whole crowd, she sighed.

– Did you dance?

– Of course.

– With lots of men?

– One especially. A policeman.

He withdrew, then entered her again, quicker and harder.

– He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Must have been ten years younger than me. Yes, like that, harder. Oh fuck, yes.

She didn’t usually swear; it moved his excitement up another notch. He couldn’t face asking any more questions about the policeman, whether they went on anywhere else afterwards, but he could see them in his mind’s eye as she put her arm around his neck and pressed up close against him. He surrendered, pushing her down into the mattress, forcing himself up tight against her buttocks. As he came, a face appeared far away inside the darkness. It came closer, veiled in green, looking in at him through an open car door.