Suddenly, she heard the sound of a doorbell inside the house, an electronic melody spreading through the dark. But there was no one on the other side of the house, ringing the bell. Instead, she noticed that the cordless phone in its dock was lighting up in the gloom just inside the glass door.

She pulled the door open wide enough to squeeze through and leaned in over the display that showed the number 072-684 43 82. While the melody kept ringing out as though it was never going to give up, she did a search for the number on her mobile but got no hits, which suggested it belonged to an anonymous prepaid SIM card.

Careful not to contaminate the receiver with her own prints, she pulled her shirt sleeve down over her hand before picking up the phone and pressing the green button, silencing the ringing.

‘Yes, hello…’ she said, but there was no answer. The only sound she could hear was someone breathing heavily on the other end, sounding almost winded. ‘I’m sorry, who am I speaking to?’ It was a man. That much she could make out. A man who had just wrapped up a workout or finished some other physically demanding activity.

‘What are you doing in my house?’

It was him. It was really him. ‘My name’s—’ she heard herself say before she was cut off by a click.

30

Fabian had just clicked into the photography club Celluloid’s website when a sudden draught gusting through the basement announced that the front door had been opened and closed again.

Theodor was home.

That was why he was now standing on the first-floor landing outside the closed teenage door, gathering the strength to knock. This was the time. No matter how Theodor reacted, this was it. But there was no reaction, so he knocked again, harder this time, and was rewarded by a tired sigh from the other side.

‘Yes… what is it?’

He opened the door, stepped into the gloom and saw Theodor lying on his bed, squinting against the light coming from the hallway behind him. Granted, it was half past midnight, but it was also mere minutes since he came home. Had he even gone to the bathroom and brushed his teeth? What’s more, the room reeked of both smoke and alcohol.

‘Have you been drinking?’ he heard himself say, noting that Theodor’s clothes lay in a pile on the floor.

‘Um, what?’ Theodor tried to focus his eyes on him.

‘I asked if you’ve been drinking. This place reeks of alcohol,’ he said, realizing it was probably the absolute worst way of initiating an intimate father – son conversation.

Theodor sighed. ‘Yes, two beers. Happy? Or was there something else you wanted to talk about?’