I'm Travelling Alone (18 page)

‘I work at Nationaltheatret.’ Susanne smiled.

‘Wow, congratulations.’

Mia could vaguely remember Susanne being very keen for her to join an amateur theatre group in Horten but, fortunately, she had managed to get out of it. Being on stage was most definitely not for Mia. The very thought made her shudder.

‘I’m only an assistant director but, even so, it’s a lot of fun. We’re about to open with
Hamlet.
Stein Winge is directing. It’s going to be a hit, I think. You should go. I have spare tickets for the first night. Do you fancy it?’

Mia smiled faintly. She remembered what Susanne was like now. The energetic, open girl everyone liked so much. The warm gaze it had always been difficult to say no to.

‘Perhaps.’ She nodded. ‘I’m quite busy at work at the moment, but let’s see if I can find the time.’

‘God, it’s so good to see you.’ Susanne laughed. ‘Listen, why don’t I go and get my beer? The actors only care about themselves, they’ll never notice if I’m gone.’

‘You do that.’ Mia smiled.

‘You wait here. Don’t go away.’

Susanne quickly stubbed out her cigarette and half ran into the bar to fetch her drink.

Chapter 27

Tobias Iversen had set the alarm clock for six and woken up as soon as it went off. He quickly reached over the bedside table to turn it off; he didn’t want the shrill noise to wake up anyone else in the house. His younger brother, Torben, was not at home. He was having a sleepover with a friend from school. Tobias slipped out of bed and got dressed as quietly as he could. Everything was ready; he had been planning this trip for several days. His rucksack was packed and waiting at the foot of his bed. He didn’t know how long he would be away, but he had packed extra supplies, just to be on the safe side. He had a tent which slept two people, his sleeping bag, a camping stove and some food, his knife, an extra pair of socks, and an extra jumper, in case it got cold, his compass and an old map he had found in the loft. He was ready to go exploring and couldn’t wait to get out of the house.

In the days after he and his brother had found the girl hanging from the tree in the forest, being at home had been slightly less bad. His mother and stepfather had had a lot of visitors, mostly police officers, who asked questions and kept probing, and his mother and stepfather had been on their best behaviour. They had even tidied the house: the living room looked completely different now; it even smelled nice nearly all the time. The police officers had been really kind. Treated him almost like a hero, told him how good he had been, how he had done all the right things. Tobias had been almost embarrassed: he wasn’t used to so much praise. The police officers had been around for several days. Not during the nights, but from early in the morning to late at night. They had cordoned off the area with red-and-white plastic tape that said ‘P
OLICE
’ to keep nosy people at bay. And there were plenty of those, both from the village and elsewhere. Further down the road, there had been cars from TV stations, helicopters in the air and plenty of journalists and photographers around, and several of them had wanted to talk to Tobias. In the days following the discovery, their phone didn’t stop ringing, and he had heard his mother talk to somebody about money, that they would get paid lots if the boys were prepared to be interviewed, but the police had said no, prohibited it, and to be honest, Tobias was relieved at that. People had already started to treat him differently during breaktime at school. Most of them, especially the girls, had thought it was cool – he had become a kind of local celebrity – but it had also sparked trouble because some of the boys, especially the two new ones from Oslo, had grown jealous and started saying bad things about him. Tobias had asked his mother if he could take a few days off school because the journalists would come there as well, taking pictures of him while he kicked a football around and calling out to him to come over to the fence. He didn’t, obviously: the police had told him not to talk to anyone about what he had seen, and he wanted to do as the police officers had said. Dressed in white plastic all-in-ones, they had searched the whole forest. Tobias had sat on a chair outside, watching them. No one else was allowed to do that. Even NRK and TV2, as well as everyone else, had to wait at the end of the road behind the cordon and could only shout out whenever someone drove past. But he was the one who had found her and he knew every tree stump in the forest, and he had soon got to know the police officers. There was one called Kim, one called Curry and another one called Anette, and then there was their boss, who had a beard and whose name was Holger. The boss hadn’t been there very often, only once, but it was he who had interviewed Tobias and he who had decided that no one was allowed to talk to anyone about what they had seen. Tobias had spoken mostly to the police officer called Kim, and quite a lot with the one called Curry. Tobias liked them both enormously. They had not treated him like a child, but more like a grown-up. Often, they would leave the forest and walk down to the yard where he sat to ask him questions. Were there usually many people in the woods. Had he built the little hut inside? Questions about their neighbours. Did he remember seeing anything suspicious recently? On the first evening, a psychologist had visited them with an offer of counselling, so he had chatted to her for a little while – that had been all right – but he had not been particularly upset at finding the girl, because it had taken a few days before the truth of what he had seen began to sink in. That was when it hit him. He had been sitting on the steps when it dawned on him. That it was real. That the girl in the tree whose name was Johanne had had parents, and a sister, and aunts and uncles and grandparents and friends and neighbours, and that now she was gone, and they would never see her again. And that someone had done this to her on purpose, not far from his house, and Tobias had shuddered at the thought that it could have been him hanging from the tree. Or his younger brother. He had felt really bad inside and had had to go upstairs to lie down in his bed, and that night he had had terrible nightmares. About people putting a skipping rope around his neck and hanging him and shooting sharp arrows at him, and he had heard Torben calling out for help, but he was unable to free himself, he was trapped, and he struggled frantically, unable to breathe. Tobias had woken up covered in sweat and with his head sticking to the pillow.

The police had spent several days in the area, then it seemed as if they had finished and they left again. The cordons down the road had also been removed, and some of the journalists had come to their house and rung the doorbell, but his mother had not let them in. Tobias was convinced that she really wanted to – he believed some of them had offered a lot of money but the senior police officer, Holger, the fat one with the beard and the nice eyes, had been very strict.

Now, Tobias had been planning this trip for a long time, and his timing was perfect. He was off school and, for once, his younger brother was not at home. When he was ready, he put on his rucksack and crept out of the back door without making a sound.

He had been to Litjønna before, so he knew the way. He had packed the map and the compass, just to be on the safe side. He might decide to make a detour along the way. Matches? Had he remembered the matches? He took off the rucksack and checked the side pockets. Yes, there they were. Matches were important. The nights would be cold without a campfire. Not that he intended to be gone all night, but you never knew. He might decide to stay in the forest and never return to this gloomy house. How about that? Never go back. That would serve them right. It was a silly idea and he knew it; his younger brother would be back tomorrow. Tobias loved being with his brother, but it was nice to have some time to himself.

Tobias put the rucksack on again and closed the door softly behind him. The fresh spring air struck him outside in the yard. He moved quickly across the open terrain and entered the forest. Tobias chose a different route to his usual one, so he didn’t have to pass their home-made hut or the place where they had found the girl: he didn’t want to think about that right now, he didn’t want to feel scared again; he had to be tough now, he was on his own and embarking on an expedition, he couldn’t afford to be scared. Tobias chose the route along the river until he reached a path he could follow quite a long way in. When he had been walking for about an hour, he took off his rucksack and ate some breakfast. It was important to keep his energy levels up and he hadn’t wanted to make any noise in the kitchen back home. The forest was nice and dry; it hadn’t rained for a while. He sat down on a tree stump, enjoying the view while he munched his sandwich and drank some juice from a bottle he had packed. Tobias loved spring. Seeing winter release its grip, it felt as if fresh possibilities opened up; another chance that something new would happen, that the world would be different. He had often thought that New Year’s Eve ought to be in spring, not in the middle of winter: the day after 31 December was never any different but, in spring, everything was. The beautiful green of newly opened leaves on the trees, flowers and plants growing on the forest floor, the birds coming back and chirping between the branches. Tobias finished his breakfast and hummed to himself as he continued on his journey towards the ridge. He had promised himself to find out more about the Christian girls – no more making stuff up, he wanted to discover for himself what was really going on and, finally, he was on his way. He began to regret not having packed his book in case he decided to stay the night. It would be nice to sit by the campfire reading, right in the middle of the forest. He had started the next book on Emilie’s list: he had finished
Lord of the Flies
; he had raced through it, and swallowed every word. He didn’t know if he had understood all of it, but that made no difference. It had been good. It had made him happy. The new book was more difficult to read,
One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest
; it was in a more adult language and Emilie had said that, if he found it too difficult, just to swap it for another one, but he intended to read all of it. It was very exciting so far. The book was about a Native American Indian, Chief Bromden, who had been admitted to a hospital which he wasn’t allowed to leave. The boss, a woman, was incredibly strict, a proper witch. Chief Bromden pretended to be a deaf mute, someone who could not hear or say anything, in order to … well, Tobias was not quite sure exactly why Chief Bromden was behaving like this, but the book was exciting all the same. He should have brought it. Leaving it behind had been a mistake.

At the top of the ridge. he had a better view of the landscape. He could make out Litjønna in the distance. Another hour or two, perhaps, and he would be there. Tobias realized he was looking forward to it, but he also had a lurching feeling in his stomach. Everyone was talking about the Christians, but nobody knew anything about them. What if they were dangerous? Or not dangerous, but perhaps didn’t like visitors? On the other hand, what if they were really nice? Perhaps they would welcome him with open arms and give him chicken and fizzy drinks and he would make a lot of new friends, and maybe they would want him to stay there and perhaps Torben could come, too, and everything would be all right; just snap your fingers and all their problems would be solved in an instant?

It was probably best not to approach them immediately. After all, you never could tell. Perhaps he should set up camp some distance away, a place with a view. Lie on the ground with his binoculars, perhaps camouflage his body, so he could spy on them. Pick his moment.

He smiled to himself. That was a good plan. Set up camp where he had a view. Do some spying. He should have brought his book, he should definitely have done that, but it was too late to turn around now. He would have to be the Indian instead. Chief Tobias Bromden on a secret mission.

It had grown a little warmer, the sun was peeping out from behind a cloud, almost lighting up the path in front of him: that was a good sign. Tobias took off his jacket, put it in his rucksack and continued his hike through the forest.

He did not see the fence until he was just a short distance away from it. He must have been lost in a world of his own. His mind had been filled with camouflage and camping. He had visited this farm before and knew of a good location for watching it. He had heard that the council had sold the old farm and the land that belonged to it. The council had used the farm as a facility for drug addicts, where they could do farming jobs and go for walks in the forest and so on, because it was supposed to do them good. But then the council had run out of money, or decided to spend it on something else or something Tobias did not really understand, but the upshot was that the place for drug addicts had been closed down. The farm had been empty for a while. And now some Christians had bought it. Tobias had been there twice before, once when the junkies were staying there, and once when it had been uninhabited. He had been there with Jon-Marius, his best friend, who sadly had moved to Sweden with his mother in the middle of Year Six; anyway, they had found the perfect place from which to do their spying, a mound not far from the farm with a good view of most things that were going on.

But he didn’t remember this fence, and now he had almost walked right into it. A mesh fence, the kind which ought to have barbed wire running along the top. Tobias quickly stepped back and hid behind the trees while he took a good look at this unexpected obstacle. There was no barbed wire on the top, but it was high. Much taller than him, more than twice his height. The fence looked brand-new. As if it had just been put up. Tobias looked up at the top of the fence and sized it up. He could probably scale it, but not without being spotted. He could see it now, the farm far behind it. Strange things had happened there: the farm had changed almost beyond recognition; they had put up new buildings. Extended outwards and upwards so it no longer looked like a farmhouse but more like a small church. It had a spire, and was that a greenhouse next to it? He shielded his eyes with his hand, but he couldn’t see that far. The area between the fence and the building was open and offered few places to hide. The mound from which he was going to do his spying lay on the other side. In order to reach it, he would have to follow the new fence all the way round. It would be much quicker to climb it but, having reviewed his options, he decided it was not worth the risk. Not that he thought the people behind the fence would not be nice, but even so. What would he say if he was caught? And, after all, he had found a small girl in a dress hanging from a tree with a sign around her neck not so far from here, so perhaps it was best to err on the side of caution.