I’d expected to read something about there being four of them next time, that would have been typical of Marthe, but she’s written nothing. I flick back through previous entries, always the same reports, mostly from Marthe and Mum, with the odd virtually illegible sentence from Stein underneath, as well as a few entries written by Mum and Stein’s friends who have come to stay and who are brimming with praise. It’s all thunder and sunshine and fishing and ticks and staining the decking and sorting out the boat and what’s been on the menu, Mum writes over and over again about beautiful cod, mackerel straight from the fjord, fresh prawns, Stein’s red wine casserole. I’ve only written in it twice. Bathing, hammock, fishing, ‘big thanks from me!’, both entries are from the end of August, otherwise my name only ever appears as an additional signature on something Mum’s written. I should have come here more often, or I should have come in a different way, nobody would know I’d ever been here at all. I clap the book together, slip it back on its shelf, step out onto the decking outside, the planks of wood beneath my feet have been warmed by the sun. Mum and Stein are each sitting in their own garden chair, Stein is working on a crossword, Mum is reading a book. She’s wearing sunglasses and bats away a wasp that 151buzzes around her, the wasp returns and she hits out at it again. I stand there and watch them, there’s a chair free, a magazine is lying on the table, but I can’t bring myself to pick it up and sit with them.

Mum removes her sunglasses and looks at me.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asks.

‘I want you both to go,’ I say.

153

Chapter 23

‘Will you be ok on your own?’ Mum asks.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I reply.

Stein carries their bags out to the car. I’m sure that he was the one who persuaded her to leave two days earlier than planned, Mum sulked as she packed up yesterday evening. Stein gives me a brief pat on the shoulder before climbing inside the car and closing the door behind him, I hear him turn the radio on.

‘Well, I can’t say I know exactly what you’re up to, I must admit,’ Mum says, laughing angrily. ‘All this, out of the blue.’

‘Yes,’ I say.

She’s annoyed with me, but it doesn’t matter, I register her irritation and feel nothing, just a sense of fatigue in every last limb.

‘What are you going to do now?’ she asks.

‘I’ll see,’ I say.

‘Well, I’m sure you will,’ Mum says. ‘Ida and Marthe, you two always do as you like. What was it you said in that speech you gave?’

‘Fail better?’ I reply. 154