‘Of course. I’m just saying that going over and over what happened in Venezuela isn’t serving you. Look at your life, Elisabeth. You are in the process of rebuilding it. I love you and want you to get better. I think the way to do that is accept that what happened can’t be changed. It can never be changed. We can only attempt to move on.’

‘But it wasn’t what happened.’

‘Elisabeth. Please, please stop.’ Elisabeth can tell that Kristina is about to get up and walk away, and she might never get another chance to broach the subject with her.

‘I can’t carry this anymore.’

‘What… What is it?’ Kristina looks alarmed at the tears rushing down Elisabeth’s face, but she can tell she is listening intently now.

‘I only did it to protect you,’ she whispers. Then she speaks of Carúpano, slowly at first, stumbling for words, then faster and faster as the images leap back to life, the images she has never spoken of and when she stops, Kristina gets up and walks away, straight into the water, soaking the hems of her white jeans. It is several minutes before she returns, tears streaming down her face, which bears a strange expression; pinched and pained, like she’s just bitten down hard on her tongue and is trying hard to not scream out loud.

‘Can I ask you something?’ asks Kristina.

‘Of course.’

‘Have you spoken about this to anyone? Your therapist here, or your mother, or—’

‘Never. And I think that is the problem. I need to speak the truth, and then maybe I can really let it go. Can you imagine carrying something like that for almost twenty years?’

‘Well, yes I can, because even though I can’t recall the events in a coherent way, I certainly carry them, too. And I don’t think there is anything to be gained by coming out with this now. It would crush the Rickards. That kind of shock could actually kill someone, and it would massively compromise me—’

‘Wait, what? Of course it won’t.’

‘It would most definitely compromise me. And Eirik. Can you imagine the effect on his political career? You have to understand that you can’t just suddenly drop a bomb like that on my life.’

‘But why would it compromise anything? We were the victims, we were just kids,-—’

‘Exactly. And we are going to leave it at that, Elisabeth.’

‘No.’

‘No?’ repeats Kristina, incredulously, and Elisabeth sees something ugly then, in her eyes.

‘You don’t get to decide how I talk about my own trauma.’

‘It directly affects me.’

‘Yes.’