Hanne sniffled and pulled her handkerchief out from under her pillow. She blew her nose and rubbed it afterward, which she wasn’t supposed to do, because then her nostrils would get big and open and the rain would go right in them. ‘I don’t care,’ she said aloud, like when she hurt herself and didn’t cry. She meant it about a lot of things. There were lots of things you could say ‘I don’t care’ about. About Grete-mom, about if little brother got strangled, about her new father who mustn’t leave them, about if he did leave, about if they got a new one –

Suddenly she sat up in bed with her heart pounding. There was a new voice in the living room. A loud, happy, loving and familiar voice, which sounded just the same whether you were there or not. But it couldn’t be. Why would he come here? She listened. It was really him. He had come to chase out the new father and marry her mother again. Grete-mom must have died. Then her mother would get all her pretty dresses. She jumped out of bed and pulled up on her nightgown and raced down the stairs. ‘Daddy!’ she shouted, seeing nothing but him as, blinded by the light, she ran right into his tall body and let herself be enveloped in his familiar smell and touch in a blessed, all-shielding embrace. Then she blinked her eyes and looked at her father and mother who slowly solidified into two stiff, distant figures outside her world.

‘Your daddy wants you to go with him now,’ said her mother with a slight unfamiliar quaver in her voice. ‘Go upstairs and get dressed, Hanne, but be careful not to wake up your little brother.’

There were three coffee cups on the table, and the living room seemed smaller than usual.

Her father straightened up, still with one hand on the girl’s neck. She bored a finger into one of his buttonholes and spun it around. Her whole body felt warm, as if she had just been in a bath.

‘Aren’t you going to stay here, Daddy?’ she whispered anxiously, staring up into his big bright eyes.

Then her new father stood up and violently pushed in his chair.

‘Couldn’t this have waited until tomorrow?’ he said in a thin, sharp voice. ‘Who tears a child out of bed at this time of night?’

Her father didn’t answer, but bent down again and pulled her close. ‘Wouldn’t you like to go on a trip with Grete-mom and me?’ he asked. ‘She’s out in the car.’

Then Hanne went as stiff as her mother. ‘Isn’t she dead?’ she asked, her mouth going dry.