Thorleif jumps when the door opens.
‘Hello, Daddy,’ Julie says, her hair wet and tangled. She is stark naked.
‘Hello, sweetheart. Bath time with Martin again?’
She nods eagerly.
‘What happened to your clothes?’
She stops; her face takes on the oops expression. ‘I forgot.’
‘Then go back upstairs and get them.’
‘But it’s Martin’s bedtime.’
‘Then we’ll have to get them tomorrow. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom. It’s your bedtime too.’
‘But I don’t want to go to bed.’
‘It doesn’t matter what you want, sweetheart. You’re going to bed.’
‘But Daddy. I haven’t had any dinner yet.’
Thorleif sighs. ‘Okay. What do you want?’
‘Crisps.’
‘Crisps? But Julie. What day is it today?’
She thinks about it. ‘Saturday?’
‘Nice try,’ he laughs. ‘You can have crispbread. Or an apple. Your choice.’
‘Ahemmmm. An apple.’
‘An apple it is. But afterwards it’s straight to bed. Okay?’
‘Okay, Daddy.’
‘Sit down then.’
‘But Daddy. I need to put my pants on first.’
He laughs again. ‘You go put on some pants, and while you do that I’ll peel you an apple.’
She races into her bedroom where one drawer after the other is opened and closed with a bang. Soon she comes running back, yanking her Hello Kitty pants as high up her waist as she can. Suddenly she stops and pulls a face which quickly transforms into deep toddler distress.
‘What happened?’ Thorleif says anxiously and rushes over to her. Julie is clutching her big toe as the tears flow. He realises immediately what the problem is. Those damned cracks in the floorboards, he thinks. Everything gets stuck in them. They have been talking about getting them fixed for ages, but they never have the money. Thorleif consoles his daughter as best he can. Soon the crying subsides.
When Julie has sat down and taken the first apple slice, his mobile beeps on the windowsill. Thorleif picks it up and sees that he has a text from an unknown number. A feeling of nausea spreads through his body. He downloads the photo. The contours of a dimly lit room gradually emerge. Several glasses on a small, round table. A painting on the wall at the back. The details are blurred, but he can make out a group of smiling women. His eyes stop at a woman in the centre.
Elisabeth.
He looks at her more closely than at any of the other women in the photo.
The football mums.
A message appears under the photo: Your girlfriend is lovely. Do you want her to stay that way?