‘It feels a bit like the day after the night before in that film, Festen,’ I say, and when there’s no response, I add: ‘You know that scene the next morning, when the paedo Dad has been exposed and tries to find a place at the table.’ 146

Nobody laughs.

‘What’s a paedo?’ Olea asks.

‘Nothing,’ Marthe replies.

Kristoffer and Marthe are sitting side by side, both looking exhausted, Marthe is puffy-eyed. Kristoffer sneaks the occasional concerned glance in her direction.

‘We’re leaving today,’ Marthe says. ‘We’ve got… things to work out.’

I look at Olea, her ponytail and half-open mouth as she chews, her slim shoulders in her purple vest, her gaze lazily fixed on an obscure point in thin air. Everything she’s thinking, everything she says, everything she can do, everything she’s going to become, everything that won’t ever be mine, the sorrow swells within me all over again, I close my eyes and feel myself losing my footing, overcome by the wave. Time has passed me by, silently, without me ever realising it, it’s sneaked through the room as I’ve slept. Somewhere down there is a hard sense of relief, too: there’s no longer anything to worry about.

I look at Marthe, buttering another slice of bread, Kristoffer drinking his coffee and fiddling with his phone, Olea idly wiggling a loose tooth, soon they’ll be four, at least as things stand, it would take so little for things to crack. A single sentence, one utterance, anything that might suggest that they don’t really know each other after all, and they’d go their separate ways again.

Kristoffer gazes at the contents of his mug, lips pursed. I won’t ask for his forgiveness. I look at the plates with their floral embellishments and the milk glasses, I’ve given them 147all of this, it’s enough; a burning regret sears through me when I think about the fact that it’s Marthe who’s going to own this place, I shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have done it.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t as careful as I could have been on our trip out, Olea,’ I say, looking at her. ‘I didn’t keep going without you on purpose, I just couldn’t stop the boat.’

Olea nods, she looks away and continues to fiddle with her loose tooth.

‘Can I see your tooth?’ I ask.

She shakes her head. Marthe looks at me, I feel my cheeks burning.

149

Chapter 22

We wave them off. Mum and Stein and I stand side by side and watch their car as they drive away, Olea waves out of the back window as energetically as she can, in the end she has to switch hands; as they turn the corner I see Marthe’s arm appear out of her window, a feeble wave of her hand before the car disappears out of sight.