1222 by Anne Holt

By Anne Holt

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Sample text

There are limits, even for me. ’ But I didn’t smile. Which was equally effective, in fact. ‘No, right,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening, then. ’ My mobile rang. Well, it glowed silently. I always have the sound switched off. Up to now it had been in the pocket of my padded jacket. It had fallen out onto the floor when I was looking for a piece of chocolate. It showed fifteen missed calls. Presumably the accident had been reported across the media. Since the satellite dish in Finse had either been blown down or buried in snow, there were no working televisions in the hotel or the private apartments.

He was on his feet now. He was standing only a couple of metres from where I was sitting, and had formed a megaphone with his hands. ’ I said sharply. ’ The boy turned to face me. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen. His gaze was searingly familiar. Perhaps they know it. Perhaps that’s why they always try to hide their eyes, darting to and fro, behind their hair or beneath half-closed eyelids. This boy had pulled his cap down way too low over his forehead. ‘Yes, you,’ I said, waving him over.

If anyone needs help with the stairs, please let me know. ’ The boy wasn’t giving up. He was on his feet now. He was standing only a couple of metres from where I was sitting, and had formed a megaphone with his hands. ’ I said sharply. ’ The boy turned to face me. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen. His gaze was searingly familiar. Perhaps they know it. Perhaps that’s why they always try to hide their eyes, darting to and fro, behind their hair or beneath half-closed eyelids. This boy had pulled his cap down way too low over his forehead.

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