In the Darkness (24 page)

She went round the back. The stream cut into the heather, more deeply than she recalled, but she recognised the boulders they’d sat on and the small path like a pale snake up to the entrance. She’d arrived. She was alone. Nobody knew a thing and the night was long. I’ll find
that
money, she thought, even if I have to claw my way through the floorboards to get it!

She didn’t dare use the torch. She examined the windows with the little night vision she had, they looked pretty rotten. Especially the kitchen window. But it was rather high up, she needed something to stand on. She walked round the cabin again, found a small wood store and a chopping block. The block was heavy, almost impossible to move, but it would make a good platform, sturdy and smooth. She got a firm grip of it and tried to roll it. It worked. She took off the daysack and pushed and up-ended the great slab round the corner and over to the kitchen window. Then she fetched the sack, took out the chisel and got up on the block. Just as she was standing there in the autumn darkness with the chisel in her hand and her heart thumping at the sheer notion of the money, almost all her breath was sucked out of her. She hardly recognised herself. This wasn’t her cabin, her money. She jumped down, pressed her hands to her chest for a few moments and drew the ice-cold air into her lungs. Johovda was suddenly pointing heavenwards so threateningly, as if to warn her. She could scuttle back home again, with her morality largely intact, apart from the sixty thousand she’d already taken, but then she hadn’t been herself, she’d been almost out of control, so that could be forgiven. This was quite different. This was pure theft, exploitation of Maja’s death. The thumping gradually subsided. She stepped up again. A little hesitantly she pushed the chisel into a gap between the window and the frame. The wood was as soft as putty, the chisel dug in deeply. When she let go, it remained there. She jumped down, found the hammer and carefully tapped the big chisel even further in. Then she let the hammer fall and levered the chisel to
the
side. The whole lot gave. She heard splintering wood, and the catch on the inside snap with a small bang. The window jumped out ten or fifteen centimetres and hung loosely on its top hinges. Eva looked about, picked up the daysack and opened the window fully. It was blacked out with a thick curtain. She shoved the sack through and dropped the tools in after it. She pushed her head in, stretched her arms across and tried to haul herself after. The chopping block could have done with being a bit higher, she’d have to do a little hop. The window was very narrow. She bent her knees slightly and gave a jump, lay across the opening with her head and arms inside and her legs outside. The window scraped at her back. The kitchen was in total darkness, but she could feel the work surface beneath her hands, so she wriggled carefully across the edge, hooked her foot round the window frame and slid to the floor. She brought pots and pans clattering and crashing down from every direction, and her chin banged on the floor. For an instant she lay there floundering, partially tangled up in a rug. Then she sat up and gasped for breath. She was inside.

All the windows were thoroughly blacked out. There was no chance that light could seep out. She switched on her torch.

It sent a bright white beam straight into the fireplace. She moved to the middle of the floor and tried to get her bearings. The sofa was covered with a checked travelling rug, Maja had once sat there relating all her adventures, and there’d been many of them. Even though they were no more than thirteen at the time. And they’d gawped at her, with a mixture of trepidation and awe. Some had lowered their eyes. Ina pursed
her
lips and didn’t want to hear more, she was a committed Christian.

A troll with a warty nose and a spruce tree in its hand stood in the fireplace. A witch doll was hanging from the ceiling; it glowered down at her with shiny button eyes. She saw the dining table, a small corner cabinet high up on the wall, a dresser displaying cups and plates. A chest of drawers, probably containing mittens and woolly hats. Two diminutive bedrooms, with their doors open. The little kitchen with drawers and cupboards. The iron ring in the floor and the trapdoor she’d have to open to get into the cellar. An excellent hiding place, dark and cold. Or the shed with all its tools, and the outside loo which had been incorporated into the cabin. They just had to pass through the lobby first, they’d gone in twos, petrified and hysterical because Maja had been reading them some blood-curdling real-life murders. They went with shoulders hunched and the paraffin lamp quivering. And there was the gas stove. ‘Now, don’t go blowing the hut to bits!’ were her father’s parting words as he went back to his van. There were two large bookshelves above the sofa, lots of paperbacks and some cartoon series. Maja had brought several issues of
Cocktail
with her, she remembered, they read aloud to each other, but only after Ina had gone to bed.

Eva felt cold. There was no point just sitting there in a daze, she had to make a plan. Try to put herself in Maja’s place, work out what had gone through her mind as she’d stood there with her money in her hands and wanted to make sure no one would find it. She had lots of imagination and could have come up with something quite improbable. Eva immediately thought of the earth closet. That the cache was submerged in the night soil.
Or
, good God … could it be buried outside amongst the heather? She got up, trying to hold the panic at bay. Time was limited, she had to get away before it was light. Elimination, she thought, forget about the places where the money certainly
wasn’t
. The obvious places. Like the desk, the corner cupboard and the chest of drawers. Search systematically and calmly, she imagined it might be in plastic bags or envelopes secured by rubber bands, protected from the damp. The first bedroom contained a chest of drawers. She rejected that too, and concentrated on the more unusual possibilities. First the cellar, it was the least pleasant place, after all. She got hold of the iron ring and raised the trapdoor. A black hole yawned at her, and an icy draught arose from the darkness. Perhaps there were rats down there. The trapdoor could be hooked open and she climbed down with the torch in her hand. It was impossible to stand upright, so she crouched on her haunches and directed her light at the shelves, at jam jars and pickled cucumbers, red and white wine, port, sherry and more jam jars. A cake tin with pictures of Snow White and Cinderella. She shook it and heard the small cakes inside leap and dance with fear. Frozen potatoes with long chits, cans, which she lifted – they were heavy and intact. Some bottles of beer and more of wine. Maja never managed to empty her cabin for the winter. The beam of light played over the uneven stone floor; there was the smell of rot and decay, but otherwise it was completely bare. Finally, she seated herself on the bottom step and shone her torch right over the tiny room once more, slowly and carefully. No cartons or crates by the stone walls and no cavities in them. Was it possible to roll notes up and push them into empty wine bottles? No, for goodness’ sake, she rose and climbed back up again,
replaced
the trapdoor carefully and began opening the kitchen cabinets. The ones that contained crockery and glass she closed again immediately, but cupboards with saucepans were examined more thoroughly, she lifted them off one another, looked into them, shone her torch into the back of the compartment. Nothing. She peered into the oven, moved into the living room and looked under the sofa. Inside the books on the shelves perhaps, it would be a bit of a job if she had to open each one individually, but obviously she hadn’t put the money there either, but it might be in the fireplace, perhaps a little way up the chimney. She put one foot into the grate and pointed the torch upwards. Nothing. Then she thought of the settle bed by the dining table. They usually contained storage space, and this turned out to be the case here, too. Inside were slippers and old ski boots, thick sweaters, an aged anorak and a couple of rugs. And then she caught sight of an old radio, and had the idea that maybe Maja had opened it, taken the insides out and hidden the money there, but she doubted that Maja had the technical ability for such an operation.

The bread bin, she thought suddenly, on the kitchen work surface. Or the tureen on top of the corner cupboard. Inside the wall clock perhaps? What about the old rucksack hanging on a nail – that’s where it is, she thought, and pulled it down. Empty. Eva illuminated her watch, which showed almost one o’clock. Then she went into the bedrooms, removed the bedclothes and mattresses, took a quick look through the chests of drawers anyway and two narrow wardrobes which contained windcheaters and down jackets. An old salt tub was full of scarves and thick woollen socks. Back to the kitchen again where she opened all the small china jars, which were filled with exactly what
their
labels proclaimed: salt, flour, pearl barley and coffee. Out to the lobby where she fumbled behind a small curtain beneath a bench, but found nothing other than a washing basket, a brush and a sticky bottle of disinfectant.

There remained the extension. The workshop, the tool shed, the earth closet. The door creaked ominously as she opened it, and the room was windowless. The floor sagged slightly. Eva could hear her starchy windcheater crackling in the silence. A large workbench stretched along the room. There was a tool-board on the wall, and someone had drawn round each individual item with a pencil, so that it was easy to replace after use. Another chopping block. Old garden furniture, an old mouse-nibbled foam rubber mattress, skis and ski poles. Snow shovel. She didn’t know where to begin. Unless to try the earth closet first and shine the torch down there. She crossed to it and opened the door. The toilet was tiny, but it had two seats, and it was a long way to the soil beneath. Both holes were covered with squares of polystyrene and there wasn’t much of a smell inside, it probably hadn’t been used for a long time, and it was cold. A picture of Crown Prince Haakon wearing a blue v-necked jumper graced the wall. His teeth shone chalky white in the darkness. Did he realise, she wondered, that people hung his picture in their loos? There was a piece of rug on the floor. Eva pushed off one polystyrene square and bent over. She tried to hold her breath as she looked round the underside in case it was taped in position. She could see nothing. She removed the other square and shone her torch there too, the dark mass down below was indistinct, but she could make out individual bits of white paper. She imagined how millions might lie at the bottom of that heap, in a metal box, for example. That would have been a job.

She stood up again and breathed out. Perhaps she should prod the mass with a ski pole or something, there were several pairs by the workbench. Some really old ones with tattered rings, others of fibreglass with little white plastic discs on the bottom. Then all at once she felt silly, realised that of course the money wasn’t buried in the ordure, there were limits. For a moment she stood indecisively looking about. An old, flecked plastic bucket stood beneath the workbench with a couple of bottles of turpentine – and a tin of paint. It was a large tin, maybe ten litres. She stole over to it, crouched down and read: Protective Wood Stain, Mahogany. Shook it and heard something flop about inside the tin. She put her nails under the lid and tried to prise it off, but it wouldn’t budge. She found a screwdriver on the board above the workbench, forced it under the rim and eased it up. The tin was full of flat packets. Packets covered with aluminium foil, they resembled ordinary packets of sandwiches. She gasped and stuck the torch under her chin, picked up one of the packets and began to tear off the foil. A wad of notes. She’d found it!

Eva sat down on her backside with a thump. She clutched the packet tightly. Maja’s idea had been exactly the same as hers, to hide the money in an empty paint tin! She buried her head in her hands for a moment, overwhelmed by it all, money that no one knew about, that no one owned, a staggering sum was now lying in her lap. An enormous life insurance. She pulled out the remainder of the packets, there were eleven in all. They were fat, roughly the thickness of four or five slices of bread, she imagined, and she laid them one on top of the other on the floor, it was a real pile by the time she’d finished. She no longer felt cold. Her blood was singing
in
her veins, she was panting as if she’d been on a long run, she could almost fancy her brow was beaded in sweat. She fumbled with the zips in her jacket so that she could stuff her treasure in the pockets, with which it was well supplied. Two packets in each jacket pocket and the rest in her trouser pockets, that might do. But she had to do the zips up properly afterwards, she couldn’t risk them falling out on the way back. She’d made up her mind to run back to the car, somehow she just had to get rid of all this unaccustomed energy that was coursing through her body. A run, a wild run through the heather, that was what she needed now. She stood up. She’d risen to gain better access to her pockets, but just at that moment she heard a sound. It was a familiar sound, a sound she heard every single day and so recognised instantly, but now her heart stopped with a nasty jolt and stood still for a long moment. It was a car.

It came purring towards the cabin, she heard it change down and the sound of brittle, frozen heather beating against the bumper. Its bright headlights penetrated the split timber of the walls in places, she stood as if turned to stone with the packets of money in her hands, not a thought in her head. Her mind was absolutely empty, all she felt was blind panic, and then her body took over, it acted, and her thoughts followed it, she watched almost in amazement as she shoved the packets back into the paint tin, pressed down the lid, tiptoed across the floor, which creaked a little, but the car’s engine was still running. She opened the loo door, pushed away one polystyrene square and dropped the tin down the hole. Then she switched off the torch.

A car door slammed. She heard rapid steps and shortly after the jangling of keys in the lock. It was the middle
of
the night and someone was letting themselves into Maja’s cabin! It couldn’t be anyone with honest intentions, she thought, and heard the screeching of rusty hinges, now someone was tramping into the little covered entrance. In a few moments the person out there would discover the open window. The entire cabin would be searched. Eva wasn’t thinking any more, she stood as if on a burning ship, and now she chose the foaming ice-cold sea. Resolutely, she put one leg into the toilet. She steadied herself on the frame, realised that she couldn’t get her other leg in because the hole wasn’t big enough, lifted her leg out again, and instead stuck both her legs in at the same time, allowing herself to sink into the dark space. Her feet kicked wildly as she waited to touch bottom, and at last she felt it, a sort of soft mass into which she sank. The footsteps up above were entering the cabin as she grabbed the torch and threw it down at her feet. Then she hunkered down, strained a little to get her shoulders through and scrabbled in the dark for the square to cover the hole with, balanced it on her fingertips and manoeuvred it carefully into place above her head. Then she was left in total blackness, not a gleam of light anywhere, and she sank down a bit further, gave up trying to crouch and seated herself properly. She sank a bit more. She rested her forehead on her knees. There hadn’t been much smell when she’d first gone into the toilet and looked down, now the stink began to worsen as her body heat warmed up the contents. She sat there breathing as carefully as she could with her nose stuck between her knees, the torch had rolled to the side and was out of reach. The tin with the two million in it was between her legs. A door slammed in the cabin, and now she heard violent curses. It was a man and he was livid.