Free Punishment by Anne Holt Page A

had been granted until Kristiane was ten. Her friends envied her – enjoy it while you can, was their advice; you can read the papers in peace and wake up properly before starting your day. The problem was that Kristiane had to be watched. Who knew what she might get up to? Johanne knew that Isak was more laid-back. She had found him fast asleep on a couple of occasions, with Kristiane pottering about on her own.
    And now she had done exactly the same.
    She looked over at her watch, confused. Quarter to nine. She threw back the duvet.
    â€˜Mummy,’ Kristiane said cheerfully. ‘Mummy’s getting up for her Kristiane.’
    The girl was standing in the doorway to the sitting room, already dressed. Albeit in a ghastly pink sweater she’d been given by her grandmother and a pair of green velvet trousers, with a tartan skirt on top. Her hair was done up in five plaits. But she did have clothes on, so Johanne tried to smile.
    â€˜Well done, you’ve got dressed all by yourself,’ she said sleepily. ‘Mummy must have slept in.’
    â€˜Slept in kept in.’
    Kristiane came closer and then crept up into her mother’s lap. She laid her cheek on her breast and started to suck her thumb. Johanne gently stroked her daughter’s back with her right hand, up and down, up and down. When they sat like this, these moments of intimacy that were impossible to force or predict, Johanne could hardly breathe. She felt her daughter’s warmth through the pink sweater, drank in the sweet smell of her hair, her breath, her skin. It was all she could do not to crush her.
    â€˜My little Kristiane,’ she whispered into the plaits.
    The telephone rang. Kristiane pulled back, slipped down from her mother’s lap and padded out of the room.
    â€˜Hello?’
    â€˜Did I wake you?’
    â€˜Of course you didn’t wake me, Mother. I’ve got Kristiane here this week.’
    Johanne tried to reach hold of her dressing gown. The telephone lead wasn’t long enough. She wrapped the duvet round her shoulders instead. There was a draught from the windows.
    â€˜Your father is worried.’
    Johanne wanted to snap: You are the one who’s worried. She checked herself with a resigned sigh and tried to sound cheerful.
    â€˜Oh? Worried about me? There’s no need for that.’
    â€˜What about your behaviour the other day? On TV noless . . . In fact, he even lies awake at night and wonders . . . Is everything all right, dear?’
    â€˜Let me talk to Dad.’
    â€˜Your father? He . . . He’s busy at the moment. But listen to me, dear. We thought that maybe a short break would do you good. You’ve had a lot on recently, what with Kristiane and work and . . . Do you want to come with us to the cottage today? I’m sure you can get time off on Monday and maybe even Tuesday too. You and your father could go fishing and we could go for some lovely walks . . . And I’ve already spoken to Isak and he’s happy to have Kristiane from today . . .’
    â€˜You’ve spoken to Isak?’
    It was great that she and Isak had a good relationship when it came to Kristiane. And she realised that everyone, not least their daughter, benefited from the fact that Isak also got on well with his ex-in-laws. But there were limits. She had a suspicion that he dropped by to see them every week, with or without Kristiane.
    â€˜Yes, gosh! He’s thinking about buying a new yacht, did you know? Not just a racing boat this time, he said he was getting a bit bored of . . . well, of course, it’s got something to do with Kristiane, as well. She just loves being on the water, and those fast sailing boats are not particularly suitable for children. He was here yesterday and we talked about you, you know, about how worrie—’
    â€˜Mum!’
    â€˜What, dear?’
    â€˜There’s no need to be worried. I am absolutely fine. And anyway, I’m going . .