‘Private investigator? Can you live off that?’

‘So long as you have an organised life and loans you can cover, just about.’

She looked at my right hand. ‘Family?’

‘I did have one once. But that went by the by as well.’

‘Children?’

‘A son. Thomas. He’s fifteen now. Soon be a grown-up.’

She smiled sadly. ‘Maria’s sixteen. That’s how much time has passed. Do you remember, Varg, when we were fifteen or sixteen?’

I nodded. ‘Very well. And recently I’ve been remembering those days a lot.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean since I’ve met Jakob after so many years. Those days have come back so strongly that I feel as if I’m going around with some sort of mental hangover – one foot in the past and one in the present.’

I tried to probe her eyes, but she looked away. ‘I see. But all of that’s a long time ago, isn’t it, Varg?’

‘Yes, it is.’

Helga appeared in the doorway. ‘Food’s ready, Rebecca. I’m afraid I hadn’t counted…’174

I held up both hands. ‘I’m on my way.’

Helga smiled with satisfaction and went back to the kitchen.

Rebecca and I sat looking at each other for a moment. Then she quickly leaned forward and stroked my hand. ‘Nice to see you again, Varg. Perhaps … perhaps we could meet another day?’

I nodded. ‘That would be nice. Shall I contact you?’

‘You’ll find me here most probably.’

I searched for a business card. ‘And you’ll find me here if you want me.’

I stood up. For a few seconds she looked up at me. Then she stood up too.

There was about half a metre between us, two bodies attracted and repelled at the same time, surrounded by a magnetic field of memories. I looked at her lips and wondered if she was thinking the same as me. Then I warily tore myself away and made for the door. ‘See you.’

‘See you, Varg,’ Rebecca said from the room behind me.

Helga met me in the hall and accompanied me out as if to make absolutely sure that I had left.

175

24

I drove home and had a light lunch. Sometime later I went for a run in Fjellveien, from Munkebotn to Bellevuebakken and back home. After a shower I took out my old photograph album. I flicked from page to page and only stopped when I came to a picture of Rebecca. There weren’t many of her. The snap on the steps in front of our house was the only one from our early years. From our time at school there were a few random snaps on class trips, one of the classroom and finally a picture with everyone posing as if we were practising for Madame Tussaud’s.

She had changed too, of course. In a 1959 photo, the unruly hair of her childhood was replaced by a modest haystack with feather-light wisps of hair falling down her long, white neck, but later the haystack was fork-lifted into a barn, so when we left school in 1961 she had straight hair cascading over her shoulders and a fringe that reached right down into her eyes.