It’s been nine days since I last saw her. She was afraid. And hurt. She lied to me about Anton. What else did she lie about? She didn’t tell me she was pregnant, a kind of lie in itself. But why? And why did she say she wanted to speak to me about Carúpano? Every time I think about the way she casually threw that into her email I feel consumed by rage. And what will I find once I arrive at her cabin?

I start driving again, slower now – I feel a little tender, and the dual carriageway has narrowed into a small, windy district road as I head into the mountainous forests of Buskerud county. The forests become even denser after I pass into Telemark county, the sky briefly clearing and weakening into a gorgeous pink-streaked indigo as the sun lowers itself down towards the rounded, snow-capped mountains in the distance. Close to Seljord I stop in another lay-by and peer at the map on my phone. The forests crowd in on the car, like the road is a wound that the forest is trying to heal.

Leah’s cabin seems to sit entirely on its own, high up against the crest of a hill overlooking Heivannet Lake. She wouldn’t be within earshot nor easy walking distance of any other cabins, and I wonder whether she ever even meets anyone else up there.

I take several wrong turns before I manage to find the right forest track – they all look the same and they all inevitably end in a locked barrier. On my fourth attempt to find the right track, which is supposed to run alongside the lake, then rise to climb into the hills on its north shore, I’m successful. One of the two keys Leah gave me slots into the rusty padlock of the road barrier and the gate swings open. I drive through, then stop, leaving the engine idle while I return to lock the barrier behind me. Only the residents of a given area have the keys to the barriers on these remote forest roads, avoiding through-traffic and burglaries in scarcely populated areas. I feel a sudden irrational panic rise in me as I return to the car; for a moment I am dragged back in time to another forest, another car, another me. I slam the door hard and breathe calmly, focusing on the narrow road unfolding ahead, caught in the headlights. I urge the gas, my heart hammering wildly. Stop, Kristina, I tell myself. The only thing to fear here is your own mind if you can’t control it.