Reading Online Novel

The Redbreast(145)



Harry sat in silence watching the gnu’s incredible

migration through the Kalahari Desert while Rakel

clattered around in the kitchen. It took time, the

coffee and the migration.

‘Fifty-six thousand,’ Oleg said finally.

‘That’s not true,’ Harry said.

‘I top the all-time-high list!’

‘Go and get it.’

Oleg was on to his feet and out of the sitting room

as Rakel brought in the coffee. She sat facing

Harry. He found the remote control and turned

down the sound of thundering hooves. It was Rakel

who broke the silence in the end.

‘So what are you going to do on 17 May this

year?’

‘Work. But if you’re suggesting an invitation to

something, I’ll move heaven and earth . . .’

She laughed and dismissed the idea with a wave.

‘Sorry, I was just making conversation. Let’s talk

about something else.’

‘You’ve been ill, haven’t you?’ Harry asked.

‘That’s a long story.’

‘You have a number of them.’

‘Why are you back from Sweden?’ she asked.

‘Brandhaug. With whom, strangely enough, I was

sitting right here.’

‘Yes, life throws up bizarre coincidences,’ Rakel

said.

‘So bizarre that you would never get away with it

in fiction, anyway.’

‘You don’t know the half of it, Harry.’

‘What do you mean?’

She sighed and stirred her tea.

‘What is this?’ Harry asked. ‘Is the whole family

communicating in coded messages this evening?’

She attempted a laugh, but it ended up in a sniffle.

Spring cold,Harry thought.

‘I . . . it . . .’

She tried to start the sentence a couple more

times, but nothing coherent emerged. The teaspoon

in her cup went round in circles. Over her shoulder

Harry glimpsed a gnu being slowly and pitilessly

dragged into the river by a crocodile.

‘I’ve had a terrible time,’ she said. ‘And I’ve

been pining for you.’

She turned to Harry, and it was only now that he

saw she was crying. The tears rolled down her

cheeks and collected under her chin. She made no

attempt to stop them.

‘Well . . .’ Harry began, and that was all he

managed to say before they were in each other’s

arms. They clung to each other as to a lifebuoy.

Harry was shaking. Just this, Harry thought. Just this is enough. Just holding her like this.

‘Mummy!’ The shout came from the first floor.

‘Where’s the GameBoy?’

‘In one of the drawers in the dressing-table,’

Rakel shouted in a quivering voice. ‘Start at the

top.’

‘Kiss me,’ she whispered to Harry. ‘But Oleg

might —’

‘It’s not in the dressing-table.’

When Oleg came downstairs with the GameBoy,

which he finally found in the toy box, he didn’t

notice the atmosphere in the sitting room at first

and laughed at Harry, who was hm-hming with

concern at seeing the new score. But as soon as

Harry set off to beat the new record, he heard Oleg

say, ‘What’s up with your faces?’

Harry looked at Rakel, who was only just

capable of keeping a straight face.

‘It’s because we like each other so much,’ Harry

said, replacing three lines with one long line out on

the right. ‘And your record is on the ropes now,

loser.’

Oleg laughed and slapped Harry on the shoulder.

‘No chance. You’re the loser.’

83

Harry’s Flat. 11 May 2000.

HARRY DIDN’T FEEL LIKE A LOSER WHEN, SHORTLY

BEFORE midnight, he unlocked the door to his flat

and saw the red eye on the answerphone blinking.

He had carried Oleg to bed and drunk tea, and

Rakel had said that one day she would tell him a

long story. When she wasn’t so exhausted. Harry

had answered that she needed a holiday, and she

agreed.

‘We could go together, all three of us,’ he had

said, ‘when this business is over.’

She had stroked his hair.

‘This is not the sort of thing to be flippant about,

Harry Hole.’

‘Who’s being flippant?’

‘I can’t talk about this now. Go on home, Harry

Hole.’

They had kissed a little more in the hallway, and

Harry still had the taste of her on his lips.

Without turning on the light, he crept into the

sitting room in stockinged feet and pressed the play

button of the answerphone. Sindre Fauke’s voice

filled the darkness:

‘Fauke here. I’ve been thinking. If Daniel

Gudeson is more than a ghost, there’s only one

person on this earth who can solve this riddle. And

that’s the man who was on watch that New Year’s