The Australians didn’t come back at eleven thirty. Or twelve. At twelve fifteen she heard the phone ring up there, but she couldn’t hear any conversation. Perhaps Hanne would need help making their lunch. Perhaps they would need some of her bread. Halfway up the stairs she heard the banging of the first morning. She guessed it was the big fat cow.

“Now it’s twelve nineteen!” It was the older boy.

“Stop. My mother is below.”

He didn’t stop. “I don’t have to do anything you say. You haven’t even babysitted before.”

“I did.”

“No, you haven’t. I heard your mum say.”

“She doesn’t know. I did before.”

“Where. Are. My. Parents?” He gave a whack of the cow with each word.

The two other children were fighting over something.

“Stop it you both. Stop. Muffin has first, then you.”

“She’s had it all morning!”

“Where. Are. My. Parents?”

“You just like her because she’s a girl. All girls everywhere are like that. They hate boys.”

“I don’t know where they are.”

The banging grew louder. The children were screaming to be heard above it. Hanne tried to placate them one at a time with no success. Oda knocked but no one heard.

“Stop it! You must stop!” Hanne was yelling, too, now. “I will tell if you stop.”

They stopped.

“Come sit,” she said. “I have to tell you something I do not want to tell you.”

Oda’s insides went cold.

The children fought about who would sit where on the sofa. Above the arguing Hanne said, “Your mami and papi, they have died.”

“No, they have not.”

“Yes, they have.”

“Like animals die?” the little girl said in a squeak.

“You’re lying,” the older boy said.

“The phone call,” Hanne said.

“You said it was the innkeeper calling about our grocery order.”

“I didn’t know how you to tell.” Her English was breaking down.

“They went to the caves. Just for a little while.” His voice grew higher and higher.

“They have a bad guide who tooks them wrong. Too much water.”

“They drowned in a cave?”

“Yes.”

Once the older boy started to cry the others did, too.

“Come here,” Hanne said. “Come up here to my arm. All of you. Come. Let me hold you.”

Oda had gotten the call about the accident in the morning while Hanne was at school. She went to identify the body and sign the first batch of so many papers, as if death were just another business deal to push through. When Hanne came home she led her to the sofa and wrapped her arms around her and told her she had to tell her something she didn’t want to tell her. Hanne had leapt up and run to her room. Don’t tell me, she’d screamed. But Oda did. She sat on Hanne’s bed. Don’t touch me, Hanne said when Oda tried to stroke her hair. So Oda had sat in a chair beside the bed like a visitor in a hospital room. She’d ached to hold her. To be held. Let me hold you, she’d asked again and again.