‘What did she look like?’ Maren asks. ‘The woman you saw.’

‘Oh, I don’t think I saw anyone. Just the light playing tricks.’

She doesn’t seem convinced. ‘Are you sure? Because …’

‘Thank you, Maren,’ he says, rising and striding towards the door.

‘Perhaps you’ll rethink your plans to divert the river?’ Maren offers, but he doesn’t answer. As he reaches for the door handle his wrist tingles as though to remind him of the water’s grasp, cold and insistent as an iron cuff.

   9   

IS THERE SOMETHING YOU’RE NOT TELLING ME?

Now

And lo, it came to pass that ‘Daddy and Daughters Day’ finally arrived, and lo, there was much rejoicing in the land.

Tom was going to take the girls, Maren had announced the night before, and I had fantasized about how I was going to indulge in those blissful twenty-four hours.

I would sleep until the bed and I became one entity.

I would bask in the luxury of eating without a small angry human flinging pasta at me. No one would climb into my bed in the middle of the night and pee in it – what bliss!

But above all, I would write.

My book – now titled A House in the Woods, featuring a creepy red house just outside Oslo where Alexa is held hostage – hadn’t increased in word count since I arrived in Norway. I’d attempted to chip away at it during the evenings, but it turns out that caring for children all day long mulches your brain. I spent one memorable evening repeatedly misspelling the word ‘if’, and when I’d eventually squeezed out a whole chapter my laptop crashed, and the entire effort was digested by my hard drive, gone forevermore. I was put off even attempting to write for a few weeks. But now, today, I would make real actual progress on my book. I would brainstorm and plan out the chapters, with deadlines and milestones to ensure I kept on track. After all, the first month had gone in a blink. The trees were starting to redden, the cliffs above the fjord a shimmering collar of ruby and gold. The temperature had dropped. If I wasn’t careful I’d wind up finishing my time here without a book to show for it.

Finally, Tom took the girls out. There was a lurching moment where I thought the day would be cancelled, as both girls cried bitterly for me, which I found touching until Tom looked like he was about to give in and cancel his plans. I whispered in Gaia’s ear that I’d let her do whatever she wanted the next day. Little schemer that she is, she bargained with me.

‘Screen time,’ she hissed at me. ‘Two hours of Netflix.’

I nodded. ‘Deal.’