'Has Ragnhild mentioned or named anyone lately whom you didn't know yourself?'
'No.'
'Did she have any money? Could she have been looking for a shop?'
'She had no money.'
'This is a small village,' he went on. 'Has she ever been out walking and been given a ride by one of the neighbours?'
'Yes, that happens sometimes. There are about a hundred houses on this ridge, and she knows almost everyone, and she knows their cars. Sometimes she and Marthe have walked down to the church with their prams, and they've been given a ride home with one of the neighbours.'
'Is there any special reason why they go to the church?'
'There's a little boy they knew buried there. They pick flowers for his grave, and then they come back up here. I think it seems exciting to them.'
'You've searched at the church?'
'I rang for Ragnhild at ten o'clock. When they told me she had left at eight, I jumped in the car. I left the front door unlocked in case she came back while I was out searching. I drove to the church and down to the Fina petrol station, I looked in the auto workshop and behind the dairy, and then I drove over to the school to look in the schoolyard, because they have jungle gyms and things there. And then I checked the kindergarten. She was so keen on starting school, she…'
Another bout of sobbing took hold. As she wept, the others sat still and waited. Her eyes were puffy now, and she was crumpling her skirt in her fingers in despair. After a while her sobs died away and the lethargy returned – a shield to keep the terrible possibilities at bay.
The phone rang. A sudden ominous jangle. She gave a start and got up to answer it, but caught sight of Sejer's hand held up to stop her. He lifted the receiver.
'Hello? Is Irene there?'
It sounded like a boy. 'Who's calling?'
'Thorbjorn Haugen. We're looking for Ragnhild.'
'You're speaking with the police. Do you have any news?'
'We've been to all the houses on the whole ridge. Every single one. A lot of people weren't home, though we did meet a lady in Feltspatveien. A lorry had backed into her farmyard and turned around, she lives in number 1. A kind of van, she thought. And inside the van she saw a girl with a green jacket and white hair pulled into a topknot on her head. Ragnhild often wears her hair in a topknot.'
'Go on.'
'It turned halfway up the hill and drove back down. Disappeared around the curve.'
'Do you know what time it was?'
'It was 8.15 a.m.'
'Can you come over to Granittveien?'
'We'll be right there, we're at the roundabout now.'
He hung up. Irene Album was still standing.
'What was it?' she whispered. 'What did they say?'
'Someone saw her,' he said slowly. 'She got into a van.'
Irene Album's scream finally came. It was as if the sound penetrated through the tight forest and created a faint movement in Ragnhild's mind.
'I'm hungry,' she said suddenly. 'I have to go home.'
Raymond looked up. Pasan was shuffling about on the kitchen table and licking up the seeds they had scattered over it. They had forgotten both time and place. They had fed all the rabbits, Raymond had shown her his pictures, cut out of magazines and carefully pasted into a big album. Ragnhild kept roaring with laughter at his funny face. Now she realised that it was getting late.
'You can have a slice of bread.'
'I have to go home. We're going shopping.'
'We'll go up to Kollen first, then I'll drive you home afterwards.'
'Now!' she said firmly. 'I want to go home now.'
Raymond thought desperately for a way to stall her.
'All right. But first I have to go out and buy some milk for Papa, down at Horgen's Shop. You can wait here, then it won't take as long.'
He stood up and looked at her. At her bright face with the little, heart-shaped mouth that made him think of heart-shaped cinnamon sweets. Her eyes were clear and blue and her eyebrows were dark, surprising beneath her white fringe. He sighed heavily, walked over to the back door and opened it.
Ragnhild really wanted to leave, but she didn't know the way home so she would have to wait. She padded into the little living room with the rabbit in her arms and curled up in a corner of the sofa. They hadn't slept much last night, she and Marthe, and with the warm animal in the hollow of her throat she quickly grew sleepy. Soon her eyes closed.
It was a while before he came back. For a long time he sat and looked at her, amazed at how quietly she slept. Not a movement, not a single little sigh. He thought she had expanded a bit, become larger and warmer, like a loaf in the oven. After a while he grew uneasy and didn't know what to do with his hands, so he put them in his pockets and rocked a little in his chair. Started kneading the fabric of his trousers between his hands as he rocked and rocked, faster and faster. He looked anxiously out the windows and down the hall to his father's bedroom. His hands worked and worked. The whole time he stared at her hair, which was shiny as silk, almost like rabbit fur. Then he gave a low moan and stopped himself. Stood up and poked her lightly on the shoulder.
'We can go now. Give me Pasan.'
For a moment Ragnhild was completely bewildered. She got up slowly and stared at Raymond, then followed him out to the kitchen and pulled on her anorak, and padded out of the house as the little brown ball of fur vanished back into its cage. The pram was still in the back of the van. Raymond looked sad, but he helped her climb in, then got into the driver's seat and turned the key. Nothing happened.
'It won't start,' he said, annoyed. 'I don't understand it. It was running a minute ago. This piece of junk!'
'I have to go home!' Ragnhild said loudly, as if it would help the situation. He kept trying the ignition and stepping on the accelerator; he could hear the starter motor turning, but it kept up a complaining whine and refused to catch.
'We'll have to walk.'
'It's much too far!' she whined.
'No, not from here. We're on the back side of Kollen now, we're almost at the top, and from there you can look straight down on your house. I'll pull your pram for you.'
He put on a jacket that lay on the front seat, got out and opened the door for her. Ragnhild carried her doll and he pulled the pram behind him. It bumped a little on the pot-holed road. Ragnhild could see Kollen looming farther ahead, ringed by dark woods. For a moment they had to pull off to the side of the road as a car passed them noisily at high speed. The dust hung like a thick fog behind it. Raymond knew the way, and he wasn't very fit, so it was no problem for Ragnhild to keep up. After a while the road grew steeper, ending in a turning space, and the path, which went round to the right of Kollen, was soft and dusty. The sheep had widened the path, and their droppings lay as thick as hail. Ragnhild amused herself by treading on them, they were dry and powdery. After a few minutes there was a lovely glistening visible through the trees.
'Serpent Tarn,' Raymond said.
She stopped next to him, stared out across the lake and saw the water-lilies, and a little boat that lay upside down on the shore.
'Don't go down to the water,' said Raymond. 'It's dangerous. You can't swim here, you'd just sink into the sand and disappear. Quicksand,' he added, with a serious expression. Ragnhild shuddered. She followed the bank of the tarn with her eyes, a wavy yellow line of rushes, except for one place where what might be called a beach broke the line like a dark indentation. That's what they were staring at. Raymond let go of the pram, and Ragnhild stuck a finger in her mouth.
Thorbjorn stood fiddling with the mobile phone. He was about 16, and had dark, shoulder-length hair with a hint of dandruff, held in place with a patterned bandanna. The ends stuck out of the knots at his temples like two red
