‘Why can’t there be an end to all this?’ she says in a moment of weakness.

He replies that it will surely come to an end. But it’s bound to take time.

She is caressing his body.

‘I wish we could stay like this for ever.’

It is natural for her to talk this way in times such as these. Stig is part of a hidden, desperate struggle, and nobody knows what the coming hours will bring.

‘Don’t let’s talk about that,’ says Stig curtly.

‘I know I ought not to.’

‘If I get into hot water I’ll call for you,’ he tells her unexpectedly. She does not reply from where she is lying in the darkness.

‘Did you hear what I said?’

‘Yes. But that mustn’t happen!’ she says.

But he knows very well that she is prepared for it. She is a part of this house.

Now she is silent. It is quite dark, so he cannot see her face. As soon as she is silent she recedes into the darkness.

‘Karen.’

She is there again.

‘Yes?’

‘You must try to answer when you know I’m calling you.’

‘Yes…’ she answers hopelessly.

She starts to talk about other things.

‘Stig,’ she says with difficulty, ‘what will become of Rascal if –?’

That’s where her thoughts are. With the child Rascal asleep in his corner. Stig can only register it.

‘You’ll manage all right with Rascal,’ he answers calmly. ‘I’m not worried on that account.’

‘But…’

‘You know you will, Karen.’

She recedes into the darkness.

Stig lies there thinking about it. She is beside him, but her thoughts are with her child, as they must be. He is forced to put other matters first. The responsibility for many people and many vital tasks means he must put Karen and Rascal second. Don’t think about them. Don’t get your own affairs mixed up in it. It has become an iron law. Only in that way can the hidden struggle be continued.

She is there again.

‘I’ll try to answer,’ she says.

He replies gratefully, ‘If you do, I’ll know. And you’ll hear about it later. That you were there too.’

She does not dare ask him how. He is strange and strong beside her in the darkness.

2

High and Dry

Martin is sitting at his desk. There are stamps of all colours spread out over it. Martin is supposed to be working with them, classifying them and studying them, since it is his job – but at this moment he is sitting stock-still, without even glancing at the scraps of paper.

It’s not safe enough here, he is thinking. One can’t feel safe. And I must if I’m to work.

He listens.

The thought flashes through him: The house is cracking.

Dreadful things are happening outside in secret, he knows. But why should it concern me? It’s not convenient for me. I have this work to do. I, too, wish with all my heart that we could be rid of all that has befallen us, but it’s not my job to join in a crude struggle against it. Let those who have the talent do so. I haven’t.