The MAN is busy building a wall. The basement is spacious and used for storing sports equipment and tools, some wood, spare tyres and a number of cardboard boxes. A gun cabinet is fixed to the outside wall. Ammunition is kept in a smaller cabinet beside a carpenter’s bench, on which sits an old, worn teddy bear. One-eyed and with holes in one foot through which the stuffing is protruding. The MAN has mortar in a big plastic tub. He puts more breezeblocks on the wall, which is nearly complete.

MAN: What do you think, Teddy? Will it work?

The MAN is obviously used to DIY. He handles the trowel and blocks with speed and precision. Portrait pictures of three middle-aged men are hanging above the carpenter’s bench. The MAN pushes the last block on the wall into place. He rubs his hands and goes over to the bear that sits underneath the pictures. Stops and looks at the photos for a while. Suddenly he points at the last of them.

MAN: You’ll get to meet him, Teddy. He’s coming to visit us soon.

The MAN moves his finger to the middle picture.

MAN: This one here will be an easier project.

The MAN shifts his finger to the last picture. Looks at the teddy bear and smiles.

MAN: This guy here, on the other hand, will be tricky. But we’ll manage it all the same, you and I. Now everything will be paid back. We’ll regain some balance, Teddy.

The MAN takes the teddy bear with him and heads for the stairs.

THURSDAY 14 DECEMBER 2017

THE ABOUT-TURN

Six hours of continuous, dreamless sleep.

Selma had been confused when the alarm on her mobile phone chimed at half past six. Darius had slept in her old, wonky bed without her noticing. Yet again she decided she would have to buy a new bed, but then realized once more that she wouldn’t have time. Precisely an hour later, she was seated at a table near the back of the Åpent Bakeri café, with the whole place behind her and a latte in front of her.

Lars Winther came five minutes late.

His hair still wet, newly shaved and in a pale-blue button-down sweater with a white T-shirt visible underneath, he sat down on the other side of the table.

‘Don’t you want anything?’ Selma asked.

‘Came straight from breakfast. Anyway, the queue at the checkout was too long. What’s this about?’

‘You certainly get right to the point.’

‘Yes, sorry. I’ve got a crazy amount to do.’

He glanced obliquely at an enormous diver’s watch on his left wrist.

‘Fine,’ said Selma. ‘What’s really the situation at the Cross-Country Skiing Federation, then?’

Lars Winther put both hands on the table and pushed himself backwards a little. Smiled broadly. Started to laugh.

‘Well, are you serious?’

‘Yes.’