The roe deer outside froze. Its jaw movements stopped abruptly. Its ears flicked from side to side before the hind took long leaps in flight from whatever had scared her. In the distance they could hear three harsh barks and a car parking.

‘Are you unwell?’ Hege asked. ‘Is that why you can’t help me?’

‘No. Unwell? Not at all.’

A door slammed on the other side of the house.

‘Come on,’ Hege said. ‘Dad’s home.’

Selma walked towards the door. Stopped and bent towards another photograph. Three young men, teenage boys in a colour photograph, faded to pastel by the passing of years. The boy in the middle was Jan Morell. He had a wide, self-assured smile and had turned up the earflaps on a knitted ski helmet that had then been in the bright colours of the Norwegian flag, but in the picture had turned to pale-pink and baby-blue.

‘That’s Dad and his pals,’ Hege said. ‘Come on.’

‘Arnulf Selhus, isn’t it? The Finance Director of the NCCSF?’

‘Yes, they were best friends.’

‘Were?’

‘Were. We have to go now.’

‘What about the third man?’

Selma leaned closer to the picture.

‘That’s Uncle Klaus. He and Dad still see each other, from time to time. We have to go now, Selma.’

Hege was quickly out the door. Judging by the sounds from the kitchen, her father was already there. He could enter the living room at any time, and he didn’t like anyone going into his office. Even Maggi had to give him warning twenty-four hours in advance if she intended going in there to clean.

‘Klaus? But isn’t that Morten Karlshaug? The photographer?’

‘Yes. Klaus is his nickname. Come on.’

Hege had just managed to close the door to her father’s office and move all the way to the fireplace when her father entered the living room. She gave him a lame smile and hoped Selma didn’t notice how relieved she was that he hadn’t come in seconds earlier.

Apparently she was safe. It looked as if Selma had enough on her own plate today.

More than enough, in fact.

THE MANUSCRIPT

201 OUTSIDE, STREET IN OSLO CITY CENTRE, DAYTIME

The MAN walks along the pavement. His thick, silver-grey hair flutters in the wind. Sunshine. The MAN opens a heavy gate, goes inside. The gate slides slowly to behind him.

202 INTERIOR, OFFICE IN OSLO CITY CENTRE, DAYTIME

The WOMAN sitting on an office chair. She is restless. Swings from side to side. A notepad and pen are on an adjacent sideboard. The MAN is seated on a settee. Leaning forward, eager.

WOMAN: I think we’ve reached the end of the road. You don’t have anything more to gain from this.

MAN: Could you stop swinging on your chair? Please.

The WOMAN sits completely still, with her face turned directly towards the MAN.

WOMAN: As I said, we’re at the end of the road.