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for God’s sake. It’s driving me mad.’
    Tina leaned forward and switched the television off.
    ‘A trained gibbon could do better,’ her father said. ‘I don’t know why I watch it, I always end up getting really annoyed. Could you be an angel and give me some of that orange drink?’
    Tina held the plastic cup with the straw up to his mouth, and her father drank for a while as he gazed into her eyes. When she took the straw away, he asked, ‘How are you? Is something wrong?’
    ‘No, why?’
    ‘You just look as if there might be. Is it the Small Businessman?’
    ‘No,’ said Tina. ‘It’s just that…I was at the hospital. I gave my neighbours a lift—she was having a baby. I don’t know why, but being in a hospital always shakes me up.’
    ‘I see. Right. But otherwise everything’s OK?’
    Tina looked around the room. It was sparsely furnished so that it would be easier to clean. No rugs on the lino. Only a couple of pictures from home and a few framed photographs above the bed indicated that the occupant was someone who had lived a life of their own.
    One of the photographs was of Tina herself, aged perhaps seven. She was sitting in a garden chair gazing into the camera with a serious expression, her small, deep-set eyes buried in her skull. She was wearing a floral-patterned dress that looked all wrong on her angular body. As if someone had put trousers on a pig to make it look presentable.
    Ugly little bugger.
    ‘Dad? I was wondering about something.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘I’ve got a scar here.’ She pointed. ‘When did I get that?’
    There was a brief silence. Then her father answered, ‘But I’ve already told you. You fell on a rock when you were little.’
    ‘How little?’
    ‘I don’t know…four, maybe? A sharp rock. Can you give me another drink? The stuff they give you in here is horrible. Couldyou bring me some proper juice next time you come? Without all these preservatives?’
    ‘Of course.’ She held up the beaker again, and her father drank without looking her in the eye. ‘But I was wondering…was I in hospital then? I think I ought to remember it, because…’
    Her father spat out the straw. ‘You were four years old, maybe even three. How would you remember that?’
    ‘Did I need stitches?’
    ‘Yes, you needed stitches. Why are you thinking about this now?’
    ‘I was just wondering, that’s all.’
    ‘Well, that’s what happened. That’s probably why you’re frightened of hospitals, for all I know. Have you got anyone staying in the cottage at the moment?’
    ‘No, not just now.’
    They carried on talking about summer visitors, tourism in general and the cheap vodka from Russia that was flooding in across borders where Tina wasn’t around to stop it. At half past seven she got up to leave. As she stood in the doorway, she said, ‘It was Mauritz Stiller, wasn’t it?’
    Her father, who seemed lost in thought, said, ‘What was?’
    ‘
Sir Arne’s Treasure
. Mauritz Stiller.’
    ‘Yes. Yes, of course. Take care of yourself, sweetheart.’ He looked at her and added, ‘And don’t spend too much time thinking about… what’s in the past.’
    She said she wouldn’t.
    When she got home she stood outside for a long time checking things out before she went in. Even if there hadn’t been a real storm, the wind was still quite strong and she could see the silhouettes of the pine trees swaying against the night sky. The air was chilly and she breathed in deeply through her nose, picking out rotting apples, damp earth, rosehips and a host of other smells she couldn’t place oridentify. There was an animal close by, probably a badger. The smell of its wet fur was coming from the forest behind the house.
    A blue glow flickered in one of the windows at the neighbours’ house. The children were busy with their video game. There was a blue glow from their own living-room window. Roland was watching some sports program.
    As so many times before when she