‘It’s just so stupid,’ I say, and feel myself starting to cry. ‘It’s not as if I have to have children, you know? Or, I don’t know. Maybe. It’s just so final, in a way. I hadn’t ever imagined it would suddenly be too late. It’s stupid.’

‘It’s not stupid,’ Marthe says.

‘No,’ I reply.

We fall silent.

‘You might be onto something after all,’ Marthe says, laughing quietly. ‘I don’t think I’m cut out for it. I’m no good with Olea. I get the feeling Kristoffer thinks that too.’

It almost tears me apart, the pain in her smile, her sisterly gaze. I shake my head. Something opens up within me, just as it had during dinner, I’ve gone about everything the wrong way. There’s a void within me and it’s growing, taking over, it is as if I’m staring into something vast and black, something staring back at me.

‘What’s wrong?’ Marthe asks.

Sorry sorry sorry sorry. For doing the things I do. For being the way I am. For everything I can’t do and can’t 144face. I feel the words pushing from within, they want out, it wasn’t Kristoffer’s fault, but I don’t know if that’s true, either. Marthe gets up and hugs me, it feels awkward and too tight as I try to prise myself free from her grasp.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asks again, sounding sympathetic.

Of course she’s being kind now, now that I’ve given her the cabin, now that I’ve given her the path down to the bathing spot and the old playhouse and the hammock between the pine trees, it hurts already. I take a few deep breaths in through my nose, pull myself together.

‘It’s nothing,’ I say.

145

Chapter 21

I didn’t sleep too well, didn’t drift off until it started to grow light. My body aches, my chest and arms, a rolling sensation fills my head, I get up slowly and draw the curtains. It’s so nice here, so pretty with the morning sunlight and the water, the screeching of gulls, everything is clear and bright. I hear the others, voices and sounds elsewhere in the house.

‘Hi,’ Marthe says as I step into the kitchen. She and Kristoffer and Olea are sitting at the kitchen table. Kristoffer looks away.

‘Hi,’ I say.

I pour myself a cup of coffee, I don’t know where to sit at first, end up taking a seat beside Marthe. The others are having boiled eggs, there are none for me, my head is abuzz with the thought that I ought to make some sort of joke about it, but I don’t know who I’d tell it to, Marthe, maybe.