.

you?”

      “Yes, absolutely!”

      “That’s for sure,” sighed Hanne. “His grades are falling at an alarming rate. Getting him up in the morning ...! It’s an impossible task! When you’ve eventually got him out of bed he immediately lands there again!”

      Benedikte nodded. “How would you feel about a year out of school?”

      “Terrific!” said Jonathan. “But where will I be going?”

      “You’ll have to work, of course!”

      “Sure! Earn some money!”

      “Just listen to my greedy son,” said Vetle. “Dad, can’t you get the hospital in Drammen to take him?”

      “Drammen is too close by,” Christoffer replied. “He might as well stay at home. But I think I could send him to Ullevål in Oslo. They have small flats for their employees.”

      “But I’m not a doctor,” Jonathan protested.

      “Who said you had to be a doctor?” replied his grandfather. “You can push the trollies in the casualty department. Wash corpses and new casualties.”

      “Ugh!” shuddered Hanne, and Jonathan turned quite pale.

      “Those are the usual jobs for beginners without any training, but if you think you can’t handle it ...”

      “Of course I can,” said Jonathan quickly. He could have bitten his tongue for saying so. But now he had said it. “When am I to start?”

      “I’ll organise it,” promised Christoffer. “I must say I’ll feel a lot more relaxed when I have my three grandchildren away from Tengel the Evil’s sphere of interest.”

      “Me, too,” said Henning.

      The others looked at him with concern. After all, he was eighty-nine years old, and their evil ancestor would probably strike against him.

      Not to mention Benedikte, Henning’s daughter, who was sixty-seven, and one of the stricken who had turned against Tengel the Evil.

      Chapter 3

      The girls settled in well in Christa’s home; she was only twenty-nine and hadn’t forgotten what it was like to be a vulnerable teenager. Abel’s eldest son, Jakob, was already married and had moved away from home. The next son, Josef, had also moved out: he had a job in Oslo. The other sons still lived at home. Joakim and David were older than Mari and Karine; Aron was the same age as Mari. Then came Adam and Efraim, between the girls in age – and finally, young Nataniel, who was a lot younger than his many half-brothers.

      All except Efraim got on well with one another. The deeply religious atmosphere in the home surprised the girls a lot, and Mari, in particular, rebelled at first. But Christa had settled down with it very well and, since Abel never put pressure on the girls, the confrontation was soon over.

      Young Nataniel was a fantastic child. But he was also intimidating. He was so clairvoyant that Mari felt ill at ease. She felt that the little boy looked right through her, and she didn’t dare to mention the word “boys”. (Even she hadn’t yet had time to fall in love several times in her new school.)

      Karine was also afraid of Nataniel. That boy knows, she thought. Why else would his beautiful eyes rest so sorrowfully and empathetically on me? Why would he smile so quickly and encouragingly when he meets my gaze?

      Karine thought that life would be easier at a new school, but you can’t escape from yourself. She would stand in the schoolyard during breaks, talking and fooling about with the other girls, but inside she felt dead with grief, shame and despair.

      My playmates are so pure and innocent, she thought. I’m disfigured and soiled and shouldn’t be with them. I’m the world’s most horrible person: sin and impurity cling to me. I’m like Lady Macbeth, who couldn’t wash her hands clean from her deeds. Nobody must touch me, because I’m a leper. I’m despicable, terrible; don’t they see in my face what I’ve been exposed to?

      Karine had wanted to die many, many times. However, she knew that suicide puts a terrible strain on those who are left behind. They would torment themselves throughout their lives with the one question: Why? And she couldn’t bring herself to speak about it.

      Her shame was infinite.

      Like so many others in her situation, she placed all the blame on herself. She was the one to be despised, and to have stones thrown at her.

      Her loneliness became ever deeper.

      The big crowd of boys found it exciting to have a touch of femininity in their male-dominated house. However, Aron and Adam were at an age when they found girls silly and ridiculous. They didn’t want to speak to Mari and Karine; they would walk away when the girls appeared and were pretty horrible. Just as Jakob and Josef had been towards Christa when they feared that she would take their mother’s place. But now and then, Aron and Adam would forget and be eager and play with them, and even regard them as acceptable members of the human race.

      Their disgust wasn’t that deep, after all. It just went with their age and would abate.

      Matters were much worse with Efraim, Abel’s youngest son from his first marriage. He still lacked any sense of humour and tended to be grumpy all the time. He was an intolerant snob, who regarded himself as the one closest to the Lord. He never forgot that he was the seventh son of a seventh son. (Which, of course, he wasn’t, as Joakim had arrived after Abel’s wife made a slip. Christa was the only one who knew about that, and she never mentioned it. Only she knew that Nataniel was the seventh son of a seventh son).

      Christa was concerned. What was wrong with Karine? Of course, she knew that the girl had always been a loner, but now and then she had seen a desperate yearning in Karine’s eyes. Could it be that she yearned for company? If this were the case, why did she always pull back? Christa had often tried to get to know her better, but Karine would close up immediately. She would play with the boys, talk and laugh with them, but nevertheless she seemed not to belong!

      Christa thought that Mari was more straightforward, but she also seemed to have an enormous craving for friendship, and she found it very difficult to cope with the coldness of the younger brothers. Christa decided to speak to her two stepsons, Aron and Adam, but had to admit that she dreaded doing it. Both boys were at an awkward age and simply wouldn’t listen to grown-ups.

      It would be pointless to try speaking to Efraim. He loathed his pagan stepmother and merely used her as a slave. Someone who provided him with food and compassion. She deserved no attention at all.

      This was quite an intimidating point of view, coming from a fifteen-year-old.

      Nevertheless, Christa was very grateful that the girls had come. Both of them were extremely good at helping her around the house, and Christa discovered that she suddenly had some spare time occasionally. She hadn’t been used to that at all.

      Of course, she had no idea that Mari was playing a dangerous game with David and Josef. When he came home to visit, David and Mari would have whispered conversations that would titillate their curiosity about one another, and she behaved in the same way towards Josef, only more openly and rudely. None of them had yet gone beyond the bounds of propriety, but if Mari was allowed to continue, something was bound to happen very soon.

      Anyway, that was what Mari thought. Life had become terribly exciting. The mere thought sent a tickling sensation down her spine.

      Karine, on the other hand, went her lonely ways.

      Christa talked it over with her husband, Abel.

      He nodded. “I’ve noticed. What Karine needs is somebody to be fond of. Somebody who makes her forget herself and focus on others instead.”

      “After all, she’s got the little boys,” Christa objected.

      Abel, who was a sensible man, said: “That’s not enough. Do we have the courage to get her a dog?”

      Christa