He regrets it as he rips my clothes off beginning with the milkingcoat. I saw it in his eyes. Not because he’s doing wrong but because from now on his daughter will have something on him.

Snuff and spit dribble from the corner of his mouth. His eyes look teary.

Did he cry the policeman asked.

I don’t think so I say.

I changed perspective again. It pleased me very much to describe the scene. I could’ve told the story ever so many times.

He hasn’t heard that bror has crawled out from the dunghill fetched a big spade and crept up behind him. I can see it. I watch as he raises the spade over his head. Bends his knees a little for balance and then slices through father’s head with it. A bit like when you split wood.

It isn’t a bad way to die. He hasn’t time to think or feel.

Now there isn’t much more to say I said.

Later that day one of the policemen was replaced by a psychologist.

The psychologist’s language seemed odd. She held her head sideways and asked questions in a special soothing voice. I met her dead gaze and pushed bror’s knee to warn him.

The policeman looked ill at ease most of the time.

The psychologist wanted to know if we had planned to kill father. And if mother had joined in the plot. We should realise that it’s most unusual to kill a parent. A family tragedy.

But specialvoice didn’t get anywhere. She was replaced by a corduroysuit. He stayed silent most of the time and let the policeman get on with the questioning but if the interrogation became 157too intrusive he said wait a minute to the policeman and asked the question in a different way.

What could we tell him that was not already told and noted down.

Specialvoice had said we were emotionally disturbed. Corduroysuit said we were in shock.

The policeman was after facts.

All we wanted was to go home.

Home I thought. Our home but without father. A home to which father would never return. A home where no one pees his bed from thursday to sunday. Mother will surely have sorted the byre out already. Hosed the brain substance off the floor and scattered straw. Emptied the bottles of booze and the cans of beer down the drain and thrown them in the rubbish. Perhaps she might even have had time to get rid of his clothes.