he
thought. Up here there was just a big open space for the hay to dry-an open-plan solution, as the agents liked to call it-and the roof arched high above him in the darkness. Thick beams ran the length of the loft several feet above Joakim’s head.
Unlike the upper floor of the main house, it was impossible to get lost up here, even if it was difficult to pick your way through all the garbage that had been piled up on the floor.
Heaps of newspapers, flowerpots, broken chairs, old sewing machines-the hayloft had become a dumping ground. A couple of tractor tires, almost as tall as a man, were leaning up against a wall. How had they got those up here?
When he saw the untidy loft, Joakim suddenly remembered dreaming that Katrine was standing up here. But the floor had been clean, and she had been standing over by the far wall with her back to him. He had been afraid to go over to her.
The winter wind was like a faint whisper above the roof of the barn. He didn’t really like being alone up here in the cold.
“Livia?” he shouted.
The wooden floor creaked in front of him, but he got no other answer. Perhaps the children had hidden in the darkness; they were probably spying on him from the shadows.
They were hiding from him. He looked around and listened.
“Katrine?” he said quietly.
No reply. He waited in the darkness for several minutes, but when the silence in the hayloft remained unbroken, he turned and went back down the steps.
When he got back into the house, he found his children where he should have looked in the first place-in Livia’s bedroom.
Livia was sitting on the floor drawing, as if nothing had happened. Gabriel had obviously been given permission by
his big sister to be in there, because he had fetched some toy cars from his room and was sitting beside her.
“Where have you been?” Joakim asked, more sharply than he had intended.
Livia looked up from her drawing. Katrine had never painted for pleasure even though she was an art teacher, but Livia enjoyed drawing.
“Here,” she said, as if it were perfectly obvious.
“But before…Did you go outside? You and Andreas and Gabriel?”
“For a little while.”
“You mustn’t go in the barn,” said Joakim. “Did you hide in there?”
“No. There’s nothing to do in the barn.”
“Where’s Andreas?”
“He went home. They were going to eat.”
“Okay. We’ll be eating soon too. But don’t go outside again without telling me, Livia.”
“No.”
The night after Joakim had been out in the barn, Livia started talking in her sleep again.
She had gone to bed with no trouble that night. Gabriel had fallen asleep at around seven, and while Joakim was helping Livia to brush her teeth in the bathroom she had studied his head at close quarters with considerable curiosity.
“You’ve got funny ears, Daddy,” she said eventually.
Joakim put his daughter’s mug and toothbrush back on the shelf and asked: “What do you mean?”
“Your ears look so… old.”
“I see. But they’re no older than I am. Have they got hair in them?”
“Not much.”
“Good,” said Joakim. “Hair in your nose and ears isn’t exactly cool… or in your mouth.”
Livia wanted to stay in front of the mirror for a while pulling faces, but Joakim gently led her out of the bathroom. He put her to bed, and read the story twice about Emil getting his head stuck in the soup bowl, then turned off the light. As he was leaving the room he could hear her wriggling further down the bed and snuggling her head into the pillow.
Katrine’s woolen sweater still lay beside her in the bed.
He went into the kitchen, made himself a couple of sandwiches, and switched on the dishwasher. Then he turned out all the lights. In the darkness he groped his way back to his own bedroom and switched on the main light.
There it stood, the cold, empty double bed. And on the walls above it hung clothes. Katrine’s clothes, which by now had lost all trace of her scent. Joakim ought to take them down, but not tonight.
He turned off the light, got into bed, and lay there motionless in the darkness.
“Mommy?”
Livia’s voice made Joakim raise his head, wide awake.
He listened. The dishwasher in the kitchen had finished, and the clock radio was showing 11:52. He had slept for over an hour.
“Mom-my?”
The cry came again; Joakim got out of bed and went back to Livia’s room. He stood in the doorway until he heard her again:
“Mommy?”
He went over to the bed. Livia was lying under the covers with her eyes closed, but by the glow of the light out in the corridor Joakim could see her head moving restlessly on the pillow. Her hand was clutching Katrine’s sweater, and he carefully released it.
“Mommy isn’t here,” he said quietly, folding up the sweater.
“Yes, she is.”
“Go to sleep now, Livia.”
She opened her eyes and recognized him.
“I can’t sleep, Daddy.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No,” said Livia. “You have to sleep here.”
Joakim sighed, but Livia was wide awake now, and there was nothing else for it. This had always been Katrine’s job.
Cautiously he lay down on the edge of the bed. It was too short, he’d never be able to get to sleep.
He fell asleep after two minutes.
There was someone outside the house.
Joakim opened his eyes in the darkness. He couldn’t hear anything, but he could feel that they had a visitor.
He was fully awake again.
What time was it? He had no idea. He might have slept for several hours.
He raised his head and listened. The house was silent and still. The only sound was the faint ticking of a clock- and the barely audible breathing in the darkness beside him.
He sat up silently and carefully got off the bed. But after only three steps he heard the voice behind him:
“Don’t go, Daddy.”
He stopped and turned around.
“Why not?”
“Don’t go.”
Livia was lying motionless, facing the wall. But was she awake?
Joakim couldn’t see her face, just her blonde hair. He went back to the bed and sat down cautiously beside her.
“Are you asleep, Livia?” he asked quietly.
After a few seconds came the reply:
