‘Well, yes. And I felt it was the right thing to do.’

‘The right thing to do,’ Ms Håkonsen repeats, as if she can’t quite believe I’ve just said that.

‘I know it sounds silly, but I was hoping she would be able to look me in the eye and see that I couldn’t have murdered her daughter.’

‘Sounds a bit naïve, if you ask me.’

‘I realise that now. But back then I thought that if she would only just see me and talk to me, she would understand. A cold, evil murderer wouldn’t go to his victim’s parents like that.’

‘And that wasn’t you.’

‘That wasn’t me, no.’

‘How did her reaction make you feel?’

I let out a long breath. ‘Like shit. Sorry,’ I quickly add. ‘I was hurt and sad. Of course I was. Slightly shocked, too, however weird that sounds.’

‘But the shocks for you that day were far from over, isn’t that correct?’

I realise she’s talking about Imo. I nod and say:

‘Yes, that’s right.’

42

THEN

Ida and I barely spoke on the way back.

‘Do you want to come in?’ she said when we were outside her house again. ‘I make a mean smoothie, if you fancy it.’

The tone of her voice suggested there was more to her question than just concern and the need to be with someone. I tried to read the expression in her eyes.

‘I thought you only had milk and Coke?’ I said.

Ida smiled back.

‘Another time, maybe,’ I said. ‘I need to go home now.’

Ida put her arms round me and held me for a long time. It felt really good to get a hug. And it was good to hold Ida. She smelled nice, and she was soft.

‘Thank you for walking me home,’ she whispered in my ear.

‘No worries,’ I said, gently pushing her away. ‘Thanks for coming with me to…’ I nodded towards the road we’d just come down.

‘Don’t be upset by what Cecilie said,’ Ida said. ‘She’s just a bit crazy because of what’s happened.’

I nodded, even though I didn’t know how I couldn’t be upset about being branded a murderer without the chance of even speaking in my own defence.

‘Oh, and another thing,’ she said, just as I was getting onto my bike. ‘Mum and Dad are out this evening, so I thought I’d have a small party – for some of Mari’s friends. And Johannes’ too,’ she added quickly. ‘If you and your friends would like to come, just … well, come.’

I hesitated.

‘It’s not a party-party,’ she added. ‘More a get-together … to talk about what’s happened and to hang out.’

‘Thanks’, I said. ‘I’ll think about it.

Ida smiled – a big, beautiful smile. Then she went into the house. She didn’t seem sad anymore.