Meja would have stayed forever in that triangular room if it hadn’t been for the hunger pangs. She could never escape the hunger, wherever they lived. She kept one hand on her stomach to silence it as she pushed open the door. The stairs were so narrow she practically had to walk down them on tiptoe, and some of them creaked and groaned under her weight. It was useless trying to be quiet. There were no lights on in the empty kitchen. The door to Torbjörn’s bedroom was shut. The dog lay stretched out beside it, watching her guardedly as she passed. When she opened the front door it got to its feet and slipped out between her legs before she had time to react. It lifted its leg by the lilac bush and then made a few circles in the long grass with its nose to the ground.

‘Why did you let the dog out?’

Meja hadn’t seen Silje sitting in a camping chair against the wall. She was smoking a cigarette and wearing a flannel shirt Meja didn’t recognize. Her hair was like a lion’s mane around her head and it was plain from her eyes that she hadn’t slept.

‘I didn’t mean to, he slunk past.’

‘It’s a bitch,’ Silje said. ‘Her name’s Jolly.’

‘Jolly?’

‘Uh-huh.’

The dog reacted when it heard its name and was soon back on the veranda. It lay down on the dark wood with its tongue out like a tie and gazed at them. Silje held out the packet of cigarettes and Meja noticed she had red marks round her neck.

‘What have you got there?’

Silje gave a lopsided smile.

‘Don’t pretend to be stupid.’

Meja took a cigarette, although she would have preferred food. She hoped Silje would spare her the details and squinted towards the forest. She thought something was moving about among the trees. There was no chance she would ever set foot there. She drew on the cigarette and felt that suffocating feeling again, like being locked in and surrounded.

‘Are we really going to live here?’

Silje dangled one leg over the armrest, showing her black underwear. She jiggled her foot impatiently.

‘We’ve got to give it a chance.’

‘Why?’

‘Because we haven’t got a choice.’

Silje wasn’t looking at her now. The shrillness and euphoria in her voice had gone, her eyes were matt, but her voice was determined.

‘Torbjörn’s got money. He’s got a house and land, a steady job. We can live well here without worrying about next month’s rent.’

‘A run-down shack in the middle of nowhere isn’t what I call living well.’

Red streaks flared up on Silje’s neck and she put a hand over her collarbone as if to control them.