You can’t control your circumstances. You can’t control your fate. All you can do is avoid people whose words stir things up, secret things, that absolutely must not be stirred up.

With demonstrative, unrestrained noise, Hanne packed with the door open.

Feeling somewhat relieved after her bout of tears, Helene got Love A–Z, and handed it to the girl as if its pages were from the book of Satan.

‘My son,’ she said, ‘will be fine without this.’

Hanne had sat down on her suitcase.

‘What about Algiers Aid?’ she persisted. ‘You should donate the clothes – at least do it for Morten’s sake. He is very concerned about it. And all Linda’s shoes –’

‘Leave me the address,’ said Helene quickly, unable to bear hearing another word. ‘I’ll get it to them.’

Hanne gave her the address, and then Helene walked back through the carpeted hall, took Linda’s delicate little shoes and walked across the dining room’s parquet floor with them. She held them out stiffly, and when she made it into Linda’s orderly room, where the ceiling was painted a tender pink hue matching the wallpaper, she let them fall to the bottom of the closet, down with the rest of them, all leaning against one another like pairs of girlfriends gossiping about incredible secrets.

The Best Joke