here we go again.’
‘Yep,’ said Martin. The knot in his stomach was growing by the minute. But there was no turning back. Might as well get it done.
‘Lars?’ Hanna put down her bag inside the front door, hung up her jacket, and placed her shoes on the shoe rack. No one answered. ‘Hello? Lars? Are you here?’ She could hear the anxiety begin creeping into her voice. ‘Lars?’ She went through the house. Everything was quiet. Dust motes scattered in her path, clearly visible in the springtime sun shining through the windows. The landlord hadn’t done much of a cleaning job before he rented the place. But she couldn’t face doing it now. Her unease was pushing everything else away. ‘LARS?’ Now she was shouting, but she heard only her own voice echoing off the walls.
Hanna continued looking through the house. There was nobody downstairs, so she ran upstairs to the top floor. The door to the bedroom was closed. She opened it cautiously. ‘Lars?’ she said softly. He was lying on the bed on his side, his back to her. He was on top of the covers, fully dressed, and she could see from his even breathing that he was asleep. She crept over to the bed and lay down beside him, their bodies like two spoons. She listened to his breathing and could feel the regular rhythm begin to rock her softly to sleep. And sleep took away her worry.
‘What a fucking dump,’ said Uffe, flopping down on one of the beds that stood ready in the big room.
‘I think it’s going to be fun,’ said Barbie, bouncing on the bed.
‘Did I say it wouldn’t be fun?’ said Uffe with a laugh. ‘I just said it’s a dump. But we’re going to get things moving, aren’t we? Just look at the supplies.’ He sat up, pointing at the well-stocked bar. ‘What do you say? Shall we start to party?’
‘Yeah!’ Everyone except Jonna cheered. Nobody looked at the cameras whirring all around them. They were much too used to them to make such a beginner’s mistake.
‘So skål then, for fuck’s sake,’ said Uffe, grabbing the first beer.
‘Skål,’ said all the others, raising their bottles high. All except Jonna. She was still sitting on her bed, looking at the five others and not moving.
‘What’s your problem?’ Uffe snapped in her direction. ‘Aren’t you going to have a beer with us? Aren’t we good enough to drink with you, or what?’ They all looked expectantly at Jonna. They were all acutely aware that conflicts made for great TV, and if there was anything they all wanted, it was for Sodding Tanum to be great TV.
‘I just don’t feel like it,’ said Jonna. She avoided Uffe’s gaze.
‘“I just don’t feel like it,”’ Uffe mocked her, his voice a shrill falsetto. He looked around to make sure that he had the others’ support, and when he saw anticipation in their eyes he went on. ‘What the fuck, are you some kind of fucking teetotaller? I thought we were here to PAR-TAY!’ He raised his bottle and took a big swig.
‘She’s not a teetotaller,’ Barbie ventured to say. A sharp look from Uffe shut her up.
‘Just leave me alone,’ said Jonna, swinging her legs down from the bed in annoyance. ‘I’m going out for a while,’ she said, pulling on her big shapeless military jacket that was hanging on a nearby chair.
‘Go ahead,’ Uffe yelled after her. ‘Fuck off, loser!’ He gave a big laugh and opened another beer. Then he looked round again. ‘What are you sitting around for, it’s a PARTY! Skål!’
After a few seconds of awkward silence a nervous laughter began to spread. Then the others raised their bottles and plunged into the fray. The cameras kept whirring, inciting their intoxication. It was great to be on TV again.
‘Pappa, the doorbell is ringing!’ Sofie yelled and then returned to her phone call. She sighed.
‘Pappa is so slow. I can’t stand just sitting here. I’m counting the days until I can go back home to Mamma and Kerstin. Typical – I have to stay in the flat when they start shooting Sodding Tanum today. Everyone else is going down to watch, and I’m missing it all. So bloody typical,’ she groused. ‘Pappa, you have to get it, there’s someone at the door!’ she yelled. ‘I’m too old to be shuttling back and forth between those two like some kid from a broken home. But they still can’t get along, so neither of them will listen to me. They act like such babies.’
The doorbell sounded loudly through the flat again, and Sofie jumped up. ‘I suppose, I’ll have to open it MYSELF then!’ she screamed, adding more softly into the phone, ‘Look, I’ll have to call you back, the old man is probably listening to his disgusting dance band music with the headphones on. Kiss kiss, sweetie.’ Sofie sighed and headed for the front door.
‘All right, all right, I’m coming!’ She tore open the door but was a bit shocked to see two strangers in police uniform standing there.
‘Hello?’
‘Are you Sofie?’
‘Yes, what is it?’ Sofie feverishly searched her memory for what she might have done to bring the police to her door. She couldn’t imagine what it could have been. Okay, she might have smuggled a couple of alcopops into the last school dance, and she had probably ridden on the back of Olle’s souped-up moped a few times, but she found it hard to believe that the police would care about such trivial offences.
‘Is your father at home?’ asked the older officer.
‘Yeah,’ said Sofie, and now her thoughts were really running wild. What could Pappa have done?
‘We’d like to talk with both of you, together,’ said the red-haired, slightly younger officer. Sofie couldn’t help reflecting that he wasn’t bad-looking. Neither was the other one, for that matter. But he was so old. He must be thirty-five at least.
‘Come in.’ She stepped aside and let them into the hall. As they were taking off their shoes she went through to the living room. Sure enough, Pappa was sitting there with the enormous headphones clamped to his ears. No doubt he was listening to something horrible by Wizex or the Vikings or Thorleifs. She gesticulated to him to take off the earphones. He just lifted them and gave her a quizzical look.
‘Pappa, there are some cops here who want to talk to us.’
‘Police? What? Who?’ Sofie could see his mind whirling as he tried to work out what she could have got herself into to make the police want to pay a visit. She anticipated him. ‘I didn’t do anything. Honest. I promise.’
He gave her a suspicious glance but took off the headphones, got up, and went out to find out what was going on. Sofie followed at his heels.
‘What’s this about?’ asked Ola Kaspersen, looking a bit afraid of hearing an unwanted reply to that question. His intonation revealed his Norwegian origins, but it was so slight that Patrik guessed it had been many years since he’d left the land of his birth.
‘Could we go in and sit down? My name is Patrik Hedström, by the way, and this is my colleague Martin Molin.’
‘Of course. By all means,’ said Ola, shaking their hands. He still sounded puzzled. ‘Yes, come with me.’ He showed Martin and Patrik into the kitchen, as nine people out of ten would have done. For some reason the kitchen always seemed to be the safest place when the police came
