Читать книгу Justine - Iben Mondrup - Страница 10

She’s not here.

And every last bit is burned. I try to remember whether I locked the door before leaving. Why should I? I never do. Anyone could’ve waltzed in and poured out a gas can and set it ablaze. She could’ve grabbed a bottle of alcohol of the shelf, and then voilà: fire. But who the hell would come up with that idea? Am I losing it?

I feel something in my pocket that sends a tingle through my gut, a key. No. Two of them.

Vita still isn’t home.

Jens and Lisbeth and Peppe are sitting beneath the flagpole in the Society’s park. They’ve raised a T-shirt that’s currently flying half-furled and they call:

“Justine. Hey girl. What happened to your place? Grab a beer, tell us all about it.”

I grab a beer from the cooler on which Peppe sits. They’ve figured out how it’s all connected, they’ve just been discussing it, Peppe says. They’re certain someone’s after me, and I’m pretty certain of it, too. That’s what I say somehow or other.

“You can always come down here,” Lisbeth says. “I remember your grandfather well.”

Her legs are swollen, taut and glossy with a bluish tinge.

Peppe cuts in. He says that he also remembers Grandpa. Actually, he owes Grandpa a favor. I can stay with him and Jens.

They haven’t seen Vita. They don’t notice when I leave either.