“Licia,” I said, “what did you expect?” I kept my voice as level as I could. “We’ve been out of our minds with worry and grief. I thought it was going to end us. I thought your mother was losing her mind.”

“No,” said Licia. “That wasn’t supposed—”

“I was losing my mind too, Licia. It’s been something very like Hell.”

Licia began to cry, a terrifying deluge of tears, full of rage and fear and fury. I tried to take her in my arms, but she shook me roughly away. “I didn’t know,” she kept saying. “How was I supposed to know?”

She wrapped her arms around herself, began rocking backward and forward on the dark earth, her body racked by sobs that felt like the end of the world.

After a while I tried again. She didn’t shake me off. I held her very tightly until she was all cried out.

I could see Vee’s form on the outside of the canopy, could see her peering in through gaps in the branches.

“You go on, Vee,” I called. “We’ll follow.”

“Did you ask her who was on the phone yet?”

“Please, Vee.”

“Okay, fine, but you should ask her.”

I looked at Licia.

“I promise I will tell you,” she whispered. “I just need more time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

We set off down the path to the harbor. The air tasted electric. Smoke wisped from the chimney of Quisling’s cabin. It began to rain in huge drops, heavy, rhythmic, and slow. I thought the storm must be close, but the raindrops continued to fall in their strange even rhythm and the storm did not come.

Elsa captained the boat, while Franklin slept in my arms. And when I looked back at our daughters, they were reclining in the seats by the motor, arms around each other, talking easily, smiling and laughing.

At eleven that evening I opened the door from Vee’s room into Licia’s. The slatted metal blind was closed, the light blazing. Licia had dragged the bare mattress into the middle of her room, had lain down on her side, fully clothed, was sleeping silently.

I pulled the door closed behind me. I crouched down beside Licia. How like her mother she looked in sleep.

“Licia,” I said gently. “Licia.”

She stirred, but would not wake. I took the phone from its cloth bag, but could find no way to unlock it, so I put it back into the bag.

When I came out, Vee was brushing her teeth. Elsa was lying on the living room sofa watching television. I lay down beside my wife, was asleep in seconds.

“Dad. Dad, wake up.”

I looked around, confused.

I sat up. There was Vee, cross-legged on the floor, my laptop between her thighs.

“Where’s your mum?”

“Out, I guess. Once you know what you’re looking for, it’s obvious.”