huge bunch, and unlocked it. Her hand fumbled around to the left of the door frame. A bright fluorescent strip light crackled and flashed before eventually settling down to an even, high-frequency hum.
‘It’s that one,’ she said, pointing.
Cabinets lined two of the walls from floor to ceiling. Grey, enamelled metal cabinets with doors. Johanne looked at the one Live Smith had pointed out. The lock appeared to be intact. She leaned closer, peering over the top of her glasses.
‘There’s a little scratch here,’ she said after a few seconds. ‘Is that new?’
‘A scratch? Let me see.’
Together they studied the lock.
‘I can’t see anything,’ said Live Smith.
‘Here,’ said Johanne, pointing with a pen. ‘At a slight angle just here. Can you see it?’
Live Smith leaned forward. As she peered at the lock her top lip was drawn up, making her look like an eager mouse.
‘No…’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I can’t see anything.’
Johanne sighed and straightened up.
‘Could you open it, please?’
This time Live Smith obliged without further discussion. The big bunch of keys rattled once more, and after a few seconds she had the door open. Inside the cabinet was divided into six drawers, each with their own lock and key.
‘Kristiane’s file was in this one,’ she said, pointing at the top drawer.
With the best will in the world, Johanne couldn’t spot any signs of a break-in. She examined the little keyhole from every possible angle. The cabinet was certainly old, with a number of scratches on the metal surface. But the lock appeared to be untouched.
‘Thanks,’ she mumbled.
Live Smith closed the cabinet and locked up after them.
‘There,’ she said with relief when everything was secure. ‘I really do apologize for raising the alarm with no reason.’
‘Not at all,’ said Johanne, forcing a smile in response. ‘As you said, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Thank you.’
She was already over by the door. Only now did it occur to her that she was still wearing her outdoor clothes. She was hot, almost sweating.
‘Ring me if it turns up,’ she said.
‘
It was as if the middle-aged woman underwent a complete personality change. Gone were the artificial smiles. Her hands, which had been constantly fiddling with her hair and nervously pushing it behind her ears, lay motionless on her knee when she sat down. Johanne remained standing.
‘She’s a fascinating girl,’ Live Smith went on. ‘But then we have so many pupils like that here! What makes Kristiane special is the unpredictability of her predictability. I’ve had many autistic children here, but-’
‘Kristiane is not autistic,’ Johanne said quickly.
Live Smith shrugged her shoulders. But she wasn’t smiling.
‘Autistic, Asperger’s, or perhaps just… special. It doesn’t really matter all that much what you prefer to call it. What I mean is that it’s a pleasure to have her here. She has a wonderful ability to learn, not just to study. She can ask the most remarkable questions, which, if you look at them on her terms, can be strikingly logical.’
This time the smile was genuine. She even laughed out loud, a happy, trilling laugh that was new to Johanne. Given that she knew so little about the family, she knew Kristiane extremely well.
‘But you know all that. I just want you to understand that it isn’t only the teachers who work most closely with Kristiane who have grown fond of her. We all care about her, and learn something new from her every day.’
Johanne tugged at her scarf and licked her lips, which tasted salty.
‘Thank you,’ she said calmly.
‘I’m the one who should be thanking you. I have the best job in the world, and it’s children like your daughter who make me grateful for every single day in this school. So many of our children come up against limitations everywhere. It can mean three steps forward and two steps back. But not with Kristiane.’
‘I have to go,’ said Johanne.
‘Of course. Can you find your own way out?’
Johanne nodded and opened the door. As she let it swing shut behind her, she was aware of the smell of soap in her nostrils. She hurried down the long corridor, the heels of her ankle boots clicking on the newly polished linoleum. When she finally reached the large glass doors at the main entrance, she couldn’t get them open quickly enough.
The winter cold hit her, making it easier to breathe. She slowed down and stuck her hands in her coat pockets. As usual, Kristiane had insisted that they park a few hundred metres from the school so that they could then take the same circuitous route as always.
The weather had finally turned. A long spell of cold without snow had made the ground hard, ready to receive the dry fluffy flakes that were now drifting down over eastern Norway. The ski runs crossing the green lungs which the capital city still felt it could afford to maintain had been crowded with youngsters and parents with small children over the last few days of the Christmas holiday. Fresh, powdery snow covered the slopes every day. Adults and children armed with spades and shovels were busy on frozen football pitches. It wasn’t just that the city was lighter now that it was dressed in white, it was as if its inhabitants gave a collective sigh of relief at the fact that nature had declared herself back to normal. For this season, at least.
Johanne knotted her scarf more tightly against the snowfall, and tried to think rationally.
The file had probably just been misplaced.
She just couldn’t quite manage to believe that.
‘Fuck,’ she muttered. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’
She couldn’t work out why she was so upset. True, she was more or less constantly worried about Kristiane, but this was ridiculous.
Misplaced, Live Smith had said.
Johanne increased her pace.
A new, frightening anxiety had sunk its claws into her. It had started with the man by the fence. The man they didn’t recognize, but who called Kristiane by her name. The only unusual thing about the permanent feeling of unease that had tormented her since then was that she was dealing with it alone. Isak treated Kristiane as if she were robust and normal, and always laughed away any worries. Adam had always comforted Johanne in the past, at least when she was feeling particularly low. But now he no longer had the same patience. His resigned expression as soon as she hinted that all was not as it should be with her daughter made her keep quiet more and more often. She tried to calm down, telling herself that she had read too much. All the knowledge she had acquired over the years with Kristiane had become a burden. While Ragnhild knew that strangers could be dangerous, Kristiane was often completely unsuspecting. She might allow just about anybody to take her away.
Sexual predators.
Organ thieves.
She mustn’t think like that. Kristiane was always, always supervised.
She had almost reached the car. It couldn’t be more than an hour since she parked, but the car was snowed in. Not only that, a snow-plough had driven past and left a metre-high pile of snow between the old Golf and a narrow, one-way street.
Johanne stopped. There was no spade in the car. She had left her gloves in Live Smith’s office.
For the first time she dared to follow the thought to its conclusion: someone was watching them.
Not them.
Kristiane.
