can be. I’m sure that our friend in there has something.’
‘I’m going to go to bed,’ Johanne said. ‘Are you going to stay up?’
‘Yes,’ Hanne said. ‘Until you wake up, that is. I’m sure I’ll doze a bit in the chair, but I’ve got plenty to read.’
‘Until Ragnhild wakes up,’ Johanne corrected her, and yawned again as she padded out in her borrowed slippers to get some water from the kitchen.
She turned in the doorway.
‘Hanne,’ she said quietly.
‘Yes?’
Hanne didn’t turn the chair. She stayed where she was, staring at the dancing flames. She had poured herself some more wine and lifted her glass.
‘Why are you so set against telling anyone that she’s here?’ Hanne put down her glass. She slowly turned the wheelchair to face Johanne. The room lay in darkness, except for the fire and what little light remained of the May night that stubbornly pressed itself against the window. Her face looked even thinner in the dark shadows and her eyes had disappeared.
‘Because I promised her,’ she said. ‘Don’t you remember? I gave her my hand. Then she fainted. And you should always keep a promise. Don’t you agree?’
Johanne smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘On that, we agree.’
XXXI
It was exactly six o’clock in the evening on the east coast of the United States.
Al Muffet had let his youngest daughter, Louise, make dinner. They had to celebrate the arrival of her uncle, she said. After the death of Al’s mother, they had had practically no contact with his family, so Louise had insisted. Al closed his eyes in a silent prayer to the kitchen gods when he saw her opening the cupboard for more and more delicacies.
There went the foie gras.
And now she was taking out the last jar of Russian caviar. He had been given a case by a very happy family after he had relieved their puppy of constipation.
‘Louise,’ he said in a cautious voice. ‘You don’t need to use everything we’ve got. Just hold your horses a bit now.’
The girl looked up with an injured pout.
‘You might not think there’s any reason to get excited about family, Dad, but I think it’s worth celebrating. And who are we going to give these things to if you won’t let my uncle have them? My uncle, Dad! My own flesh-and- blood uncle.’
Al puffed out his cheeks and let the air out slowly.
‘Remember that he’s a Muslim,’ he muttered. ‘Don’t use anything with pork in it.’
‘What about you, then? You love spare ribs! Shame on you.’
He loved it when she laughed. She had her mother’s laugh, the only thing that was left of her when Al Muffet closed his eyes and tried to recreate a picture of his wife, without seeing the thin shadow she had become in the final months of her life. He never managed. Her face had been erased. The only thing he could remember was the smell of the perfume he had given her when they got engaged, and that she had worn ever since. And her laughter. Melodious and clear as bells. Louise had inherited it, and sometimes he caught himself telling a joke just so he could close his eyes and listen.
‘What’s going on out here?’ Fayed asked from the doorway. ‘Are you the cook in the family?’
He went over to the counter and ruffled Louise’s hair. She smiled, then picked up an aubergine, which she started to cut with a practised hand.
I’m never allowed to ruffle her hair, Al Muffet sulked to himself. You don’t treat a teenager like that, Fayed. And certainly not one you barely know.
‘Great girls you’ve got,’ Fayed said, putting down a bottle of wine on the coarse oak table in the middle of the room. ‘I think this one’ll be good. Where are Sheryl and Catherine?’
‘Sheryl’s twenty,’ Al muttered. ‘She left home last year.’
‘Oh,’ Fayed said lightly, and had to take a quick sidestep to regain his balance as he opened a drawer. ‘Do you have a bottle opener?’
Al thought he caught a whiff of alcohol already. When Fayed turned to face him, Al could have sworn that his brother’s eyes were glazed and his mouth was sagging.
‘Do you drink?’ he asked. ‘I thought-’
‘Hardly ever,’ Fayed cut in and coughed, as if he was trying to pull himself together. ‘But on a day like today…’
He burst out laughing again and nudged his niece.
‘I can see that you’re preparing a celebration,’ he said. ‘And I agree with you. I’ve got some presents for you girls. We could open them after dinner. It really is so good to see you all!’
‘Well, strictly speaking, you’ve only seen two of us so far,’ Al said and pulled open a drawer. ‘But Catherine will be here soon. I said that dinner was around half past six. She had a match this afternoon. It should be over by now.’
The corkscrew was caught in a whisk. He eventually managed to separate the two utensils, and handed the corkscrew to his brother.
‘What are you saying?’ Fayed joked as he took it. ‘My niece is playing in a match and you don’t even tell me? We could have gone to watch! My children aren’t interested in anything like that.’ He shook his head and pulled an unhappy face. ‘None of them. None of them has a competitive spirit.’
Louise smiled in embarrassment.
Fayed opened the bottle and looked around for glasses. Al opened a cupboard and took out a glass and put it on the table.
‘Are you not going to have any?’ Fayed asked, astonished.
‘It’s Wednesday. I have to get up early tomorrow.’
‘Just a glass,’ Fayed pleaded. ‘Heavens above, you can manage a glass! Are you not pleased to see me?’
Al took a deep breath, then he got out another glass and put it down beside the first one.
‘Only so much,’ he said and indicated a couple of centimetres from the bottom. ‘Stop.’
Fayed poured himself a generous amount and then raised his glass.
‘Cheers!’ he said. ‘To the Muffasa family getting together again!’
‘We’re called Muffet,’ Louise said in a small voice, without looking at her uncle.
‘Muffet. Muffasa. Same thing!’
He took a drink.
You’re drunk, Al Muffet caught himself thinking in surprise. You, who was always the religious one, who I’ve never seen take even one beer with the boys! You turn up like a jack-inthe-box without having been in touch for three years, and then you get drunk on something I haven’t even given you.’
‘Food’s ready,’ Louise said.
She seemed to be shy, which she wasn’t normally. It was as if she had suddenly realised that her uncle wasn’t quite as he should be. When he leant towards her to stroke her back, she pulled away with an embarrassed smile.
‘Please sit down,’ she said and pointed to the dining room.
‘Aren’t we going to wait for Catherine?’ Al asked. He nodded reassuringly at his daughter. ‘She’ll be here soon.’
‘I’m back,’ came a shout as the door slammed. ‘We won! I had a home run!’
Fayed took his glass with him into the sitting room.
‘Catherine,’ he said affectionately and stopped to fully appreciate his niece.
The fifteen-year-old stopped in her tracks. She looked suspiciously at the man who was incredibly like her
