‘I understand.’ It was as if the champagne bubbles were already coursing through her veins, and she had to concentrate in order not to giggle.

‘I’ve told you I grew up with my grandfather, that my parents were dead. What I omitted to say was that I lived with them until I was fifteen.’

‘I knew it!’ she exclaimed.

Tony cocked an eyebrow. A delicately shaped, oh-so-beautiful eyebrow, she thought.

‘I’ve always known you had a secret, Tony,’ she laughed. ‘But I also have a secret. I want us to know everything about each other, everything!’

Tony assumed a lopsided smile. ‘So let me continue without any more interruptions, my sweet Lene. My mother was deeply religious and met my father in a chapel. He had just been released after serving time for murder in a fit of jealous rage, and while in prison had found Jesus. For my mother this was something straight out of the Bible, a repentant sinner, a man she could help to find redemption and eternal life while she did penance for her own sins. That was how she explained to me why she had married the bastard.’

‘What-?’

‘Shh! My father repented for the murder by labelling everything that was not in praise of God a sin. I was not allowed to do any of the things other children did. If I contradicted him I got a taste of the belt. He tried to provoke me, say that the sun went round the earth, as it said in the Bible. If I protested he beat me. When I was twelve I was in the outside toilet with my mother. We used to do that. When I came out he hit me with a spade because he thought it was a sin, that I was too old to go to the toilet with my mother. He marked me for life.’

Lene gulped as Tony lifted a distorted, arthritic finger and ran it along the top part of the scar on his chest. And then she noticed his missing finger.

‘Tony! What happ-?’

‘Shh! The last time my father beat me I was fifteen, and he used the belt for twenty-three minutes without a break. One thousand three hundred and ninety-two seconds. I counted them. He hit me every four seconds like a machine. Kept hitting me, his rage steadily increasing because I refused to cry. In the end his arm was so tired that he had to give up. Three hundred and forty-eight lashes. That night I waited until I heard his snoring, sneaked into their bedroom and poured a drop of acid into his eye. He screamed and screamed while I held him and whispered in his ear that if he touched me again I would kill him. And I felt him stiffen in my arms, I knew he knew I was stronger than him. And he knew I had it in me.’

‘Had what in you, Tony?’

‘Him. The killer.’

Lene’s heart stopped pumping. It was not true. Couldn’t be true. He had told her it wasn’t him, they were mistaken.

‘After that day we watched each other like hawks. And Mum knew it was either him or me. One day she came to me and said he had been to Geilo to buy ammunition for the rifle. I had to get away, she had decided with my grandfather what had to be done. He was a widower and lived by Lake Lyseren. He knew he would have to keep me hidden, otherwise the old man would come after me. So I left. Mum made it look as if I had been killed in an avalanche. My father shunned society so it was always Mum who did anything that required contact with people. He thought she had reported me missing, but in reality she had informed only one person what she had done and why. She and Officer Roy Stille, they… well, they knew each other very well. Stille was wise enough to know that the police could do little to protect me against Dad and vice versa, so he helped to cover our traces. I was fine at Grandad’s. Until the message came that Mum had gone missing in the mountains.’

Lene put out her hand. ‘Poor, poor Tony.’

‘I said: close your eyes!’

She winced at the snarl in his voice, retracted her hand and squeezed her eyes shut.

‘I couldn’t go to the service, my grandfather said. Nobody should find out I was alive. When he returned he told me word for word what the priest had said about her in his speech. Three sentences. Three sentences about the world’s strongest, most beautiful woman. The last was “Karen trod lightly on this earth”. The rest was about Jesus and forgiveness of sins. Three sentences and forgiveness of sins she had never committed.’ Lene could hear Tony breathing heavily now.

‘Trod lightly. The bastard priest stood there in the pulpit and said she had left no prints. Vanished as she had lived, without leaving a trace. On to the next verse in the Bible. Grandad told me this straight, no beating about the bush, and do you know what, Lene? It was the most important day in my life. Do you understand?’

‘Er… no, Tony.’

‘I knew he was sitting there, the bastard who had killed her. And I swore I would take my revenge. I would show him. I would show them all. That was the day I decided that whatever happened I would not end up like him. Or her. Three lines. And neither I nor the bastard sitting there needed forgiveness for their sins. We would both burn. Rather that than share paradise with a God like this.’ He lowered his voice. ‘No one, no one was going to stand in my way. Do you understand me now?’

‘Yes,’ Lene smiled. ‘And you’ve deserved it, Tony. Everything. You’ve worked so hard!’

‘I’m glad you’re so understanding, my sweet. Here comes the rest. Are you ready?’

‘Yes,’ Lene said, clapping her hands. She would see, her too, sitting at home, envious, lonely and bitter, begrudging her own daughter the chance to experience love.

‘I had it all in the palm of my hand,’ Tony said, and Lene felt his hand on her knee. ‘You, your father’s money, the project here in Africa. I thought nothing could go wrong. Until I fucked that randy bitch at the cabin in Havass. I couldn’t even remember her name when I received a letter from her saying she was pregnant and wanted money. She was in the way, Lene. I was meticulous in my planning. Covered the car in plastic. Took a blank postcard of the Congo I had lying around, forced her to write a few lines explaining her disappearance. Then I plunged the knife into her neck. The sound of blood on plastic, Lene… it’s something quite unique.’

85

Edvard Munch

It was like someone had banged an icicle into Lene’s skull. Nevertheless she forced her eyes open again. ‘You… you… killed her? A woman you… slept with in the mountains?’

‘My libido is stronger than yours, Lene. If you don’t do what I ask I get others to do it.’

‘But you… you wanted me to…’ Tears strangled her vocal cords. ‘… That’s not natural!’

Tony chuckled. ‘She didn’t mind, Lene. Juliana didn’t, either. She was well paid for it, though.’

‘Juliana? What are you talking about, Tony? Tony?’ Lene was groping in the dark like a blind person.

‘A German whore from Leipzig I met regularly. She does anything for money. Did.’

Lene felt the tears running down her cheeks. His voice was so calm; that was what made it all seem so unreal.

‘Say… say it isn’t true, Tony. Please stop now.’

‘Shh. I was sent another letter. With a photo. You can perhaps imagine my shock when I saw it contained a photo of Adele in my car with a knife in her neck. The letter was signed by someone called Borgny Stem-Myhre. She wrote that she wanted money, otherwise she would report me for the murder of Adele Vetlesen. Of course, I knew I would have to get rid of her. But I needed an alibi for the time of death in case the police started to link me with Borgny and the blackmail attempt. In fact, I had been thinking of sending Adele’s little postcard from Africa the next time I was here, but then I happened on an even better idea. I contacted Juliana and sent her here to Goma. She travelled around using Adele’s name, sent the card from Kigali, went to Van Boorst and bought an apple I had been thinking of serving up to Borgny. Juliana came back and we met in Leipzig. Where I let her have the first taste of the apple.’ Tony chuckled. ‘She thought it was a new sex toy, poor thing.’