Vetle went. He gave his brother a final glance as he pressed on his poles and set off across the short expanse of snow. He said nothing. Asked no questions. He skied the kilometre or so to the car park, colder than he had ever been in his little life. He removed his skis and rubbed them clear of snow before tying them together with his poles and hoisting them over his right shoulder. Vetle went home to his mum, and there was no chance of cheese toasties or Tante Pose, but on the contrary a tongue-lashing because he had come back three hours late. Without Arne. Who looked as if he would never come back.

And then night fell.

Vetle hadn’t said anything. He got undressed, brushed his teeth and shrugged at all their questions. Mum cried and moaned, Dad coaxed and threatened, but Vetle had made a promise. Even the policeman who came, in a stiff uniform and a captain’s cap he folded and pushed under his epaulettes when Mum opened the door, couldn’t persuade him to change his mind. The grown-ups would find the tracks, Vetle thought sleepily, and he wouldn’t give away anything that would make Arne angry.

‘He left me behind,’ was all he could say.

Arne was a good big brother, even if he had left him behind, and Vetle had sworn not to say anything.

Vetle took his teddy bear and went to bed. No one came to say goodnight. Dad had gone out with three other men, all neighbours. Mum had other mums visiting her. The last thing Vetle heard before he fell asleep with Teddy in the crook of his arm was women’s voices from the living room. If he hadn’t been sleeping so incredibly heavily after his long ski trip, he would probably have heard more and more people coming into the little apartment where a star hung in the window and the Christmas tree lights were not turned off even though it was night-time. If Vetle hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly, he might well have padded across to the window, as he sometimes did when Arne hadn’t yet come to bed and he couldn’t sleep. Then he would have seen that it had started to snow. He would have noticed the wind that picked up and packed the snow into soft frames around the windowpanes. Vetle would have struggled to see the streetlamps, only fifteen metres away, for all the whirling, dancing snowflakes that in the end turned to driving snow in a blizzard no one had forecast.

But Vetle was fast asleep.