‘The place where we were yesterday is respectable … in a way. At least the façade was fine. Back there you could meet local politicians and police officers out on the town.’

‘And here? No police?’113

‘Maybe. Not all of them take the enforcement of licensing regulations that seriously, and not many turn down a cheap drink. But you’ll probably meet all the other musicians here. Lots will have finished their gigs elsewhere and fancy a quiet drink before they crash out. There are theatre people, sales and ad folk, local jetsetters and anyone else who doesn’t feel like going home when the other places close.’

‘Doesn’t sound like somewhere I’d thrive.’

‘Don’t say that, Varg. You might meet a woman here.’

‘What type of woman?’

He smirked and went up to the door. He found an outside doorbell marked X. After ringing it, he stepped back and waited.

Thirty seconds later a pale face appeared behind the glass pane in the door. Two critical eyes examined us both, then the face disappeared, there was a buzz and the door opened.

A bodybuilder in a dinner jacket, size XXL, blocked the entrance, as friendly as a weightlifter convicted for doping.

Jakob, who knew the procedure, held out the two passes and the heavyweight nodded. ‘Plus the cover charge.’

Jakob turned to me as he put a hand into his inside pocket. ‘Have you got two Camillas?’

‘Two hundred kroner … each?’

‘Mhm. But that includes half a bottle of champers each.’

‘As exclusive as the building?’

‘The most exclusive there is – Opéra.’

‘O sole mio.’

I took out two notes and paid. In return I was given a numbered voucher. I peered up at the doorman. ‘And what can I win with this? Some Hardanger embroidery from the Missionary Society or a toilet bag from Grand Magasin?’114

‘Where did you pick up this cuckoo?’ the hammer-thrower asked Jakob.

‘I was standing under his tree.’

‘I hope you can vouch for him.’

‘Cuck-oo. You can have three wishes,’ I mumbled. ‘Dumbbells, a jockstrap and anabolic steroids.’

Jakob raised both hands in defence. ‘We’re in puckish mood today. It doesn’t happen often. But this is one of those days. Can we come in?’

Mr Grumpy nodded and indicated the way.

We went up the first staircase. The pounding of the disco music got louder. It sounded like dinosaurs stampeding.

‘Is there any difference between the floors?’ I asked.

‘No. Later tonight the only difference will be where you can find room.’

I glanced at him. ‘What are we actually doing here, Jakob?’

He didn’t answer.

‘Are we looking for someone?’

He shrugged.

‘Rebecca?’

He stopped. The look he sent me was like quicksand. ‘Maybe. Maybe not.’

‘Gro?’

He shook his head firmly. ‘She’s in the bosom of her family today. Video and Vimto. Routine creaking of the bed springs. Saturday-night fun in good old Norway, in the far north.’

I hummed: “All the lonely people, where do they all come from?”