Ane Riel - Resin

It took a while before he replied.

‘She’s still not… small enough… for us to get her through the door. I think it’s better that we do it upstairs. Then she can lie there with all her books. That would be nice, don’t you think?’

I nodded again.

‘And dry out?’ I asked cautiously, staring at the sacks.

‘Yes.’

‘And grow smaller?’

‘Yes, exactly.’

‘For some weeks. Until you can…’

‘Yes. You’ll have to help me clean the resin. And I think we need to fetch the big glass jars from the chemist’s outhouse. I think they’re by the baker’s pile. But we have plenty of time, Liv. We have all the time in world. She needs her bath first, her salt bath.’

‘But what about the man?’

‘He can help me carry the bathtub upstairs. I can’t carry it on my own, and although you’re very strong you’re not strong enough. So, in a way, it was a stroke of luck that he turned up. I had been wondering how I would…’

Then he stopped talking.

‘But what about the man? Afterwards? Will he leave then?’

Dad hesitated, then he said: ‘Yes, he’ll leave afterwards.’ His voice sounded strange.

‘Then he had better watch out for the traps along the gravel road,’ I said.

‘Yes.’

‘Perhaps I could show him where they are?’

‘Yes… you may.’

I could see that he wanted to add something.

‘Do you know why he came, Liv?’

‘Yes, he was looking for his dog… down by…’

Suddenly my throat tightened. There was something I had to ask Dad. Something about the dog and the trap which had bit deep into its leg, making it scream and howl. Something about the trap with the horrible teeth.

I couldn’t.

I started to cry again.

‘And he was alone?’

I nodded. The tears poured out of me like two small waterfalls that kept on running.

Dad pulled me close.

‘Don’t be sad. Your mum won’t feel a thing. I have some pills for her. They’ll take away all her pain at once. It’ll be quick and she’ll feel so much better afterwards. I think she needs it.’

He had also said that she needed to be alone.

I didn’t want Mum to be alone. I wanted to be with Mum.

‘But then she’ll be all alone?’

‘No, once she’s ready, she’ll be down here with us. She won’t be crying, and she won’t be ill or hungry, and she’ll never be in pain again. You’ll still be able to read to her, and do you know something, Liv…’

He stroked my hair.

‘…she’ll be able to hear you, because she’ll still have her heart.’

He reached his hand into the coffin and pulled something out. ‘And we’ll be able to see her.’

I stared at the most beautiful drawing ever drawn of a human being. I stared at Mum. She was smiling.

Dad got up without warning and I took a step back. I couldn’t work out what to do. I couldn’t cry. Carl hovered nervously by the door. I could tell he wanted to run away.

Dad looked bigger than ever.

He had drawn the picture.

And he had made the trap.

And now we were about to kill Mum.

‘Come on, Liv,’ he said, and I followed him, without wanting to.

First we went back to the man in the white room. He lay very still with his legs and arms stretched out and his mouth gagged. The ropes from his wrists and ankles to the bedposts were taut. When Dad entered, he raised his head slightly and looked at us.

Dad just glanced at him, then pulled me outside. He closed the door behind him.

‘You wait here and keep guard, Liv. He can’t escape, but you keep guard and use your bow, if necessary. I’ll go over to the house and move some things out of the way so we can bring in the tub.’

‘I want to talk to Mum,’ I whispered through the beginning of tears.

Dad bent down and looked me in the eye. His face was so close to mine that I could feel his beard and the brim of his cap.

His eyes hung right in front of mine like hard, black stones. They were no longer crying. They weren’t even shiny. They weren’t Dad’s eyes. They were stones.

‘ No ,’ he said. ‘You stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.’

I don’t know how long he was gone. I only know that the sun had reached the chimney on the house. There were no clouds at all. The sky was big and blue.

The glow from the candlelight didn’t reach Jens Horder’s eyes when he showed her the pills. In his other hand he held a glass of water.

Maria saw only his hands. They were shaking.

She nodded and slowly opened her mouth. The corners of her mouth were cracked. She was thirsty and tired.

For a moment she felt his lips on her forehead.

Quivering like a butterfly.

Then he disappeared back into the darkness. She heard his footsteps down the stairs. The sound of heavy objects being dragged across the floor below. Him groaning.

Perhaps he was crying.

Then she found the notepad by her side.

And her very last bit of strength.

I THINK THAT’S IT

The gag cut into the corners of his mouth, and Roald had to breathe deeply through his nose to keep the nausea at bay. The fact that the air in the room was so suffocating didn’t help either. He had to stay focused. He had to ignore the smell and value the oxygen which, after all, it still contained. If he didn’t concentrate, his fear of choking would overpower him. Throwing up would be the end of him. If the cold he had only recently got rid of crept up on him now and blocked his nose, that would also be the end of him. What about sneezing? Was it possible to sneeze when you had a gag pressed into the back of your mouth? Surely the sneeze would explode in his throat and choke him? He had to keep reminding himself about the oxygen. There was oxygen in the air and free passage through his nose. He breathed deeply and tried getting his pulse down. And he tried to think.

NEED HELP ALL 3, Maria had written.

You could say that again.

Roald was worried about her and the girl, but at this moment in time he was mostly concerned about Jens Horder. Exactly how far gone was he? Was he capable of murder?

And what had he meant when he said: ‘We’ll need him later?’ Then again, it gave Roald a faint hope that he wasn’t about to be killed, at least not immediately. On the other hand, Need him?

Need him for what?

Roald thought about the people of Korsted. Had anyone known about his walk to the Head? No, he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. Why on earth hadn’t he told someone, spoken to the police officer, left a note for the chef?

If he didn’t come back today, then what? When would people start to notice? At some point Short Fuse’s Lars would start to wonder why Roald hadn’t returned his dog. He would ring the pub later tonight. Perhaps even walk down there, if he could be bothered. He probably couldn’t, and his explosive wife undoubtedly had jobs that she wanted him to do. So Lars wouldn’t do anything until tomorrow, which was when he would bump into the chef, who would be back by then and who would also be wondering about Roald’s absence.

And at that point they would contact the police. Not until then. Not until tomorrow. And probably not until late in the day. To act quickly would be regarded as jumping the gun.

Roald focused on his breathing. Jens Horder would bloody well have to let him go. There had to be limits to his madness.

Nevertheless, the family was in desperate need of help. All three of them. Roald made up his mind to be as accommodating as possible. He would signal to them that he meant them no harm at all. That he was no threat.

That would probably fix it.

And that was when the penny dropped.