My Struggle: Book 3 Read Online Free PDF Page B

norm; to my knowledge none of the other fathers did it, with the possible exception of Prestbakmo, but I had never seen him do it and actually doubted whether he would submit to that kind of work.
    But on this day Dad had been to town to buy crabs at the harbor, after which he had sat in his office smoking cigarettes and perhaps marking essays, perhaps reading documents, perhaps fiddling around with his stamp collection, or perhaps reading
The Phantom.
    On the other side of our creosoted garden fence, where the path to B-Max started, water from a manhole cover had flooded the forest floor. Rolf, Leif Tore’s brother, had said a few days ago that it was Dad’s responsibility. “Responsibility,” that was not a word he would normally use, so I guessed he had got it from his father. Dad was on the local council, they were the people who made the decisions on the island, and that was what Gustavsen, Leif Tore and Rolf’s father, had meant. Dad had to report the flooding so they could send someone to do the repairs. As we walked up and my attention was again caught by the unnaturally large amount of water between the small, thin trees, with the odd bit of white toilet paper floating in it, I decided to tell him if the opportunity arose. Tell him he would have to report it at the Monday meeting.
    There he was! In his blue waterproof jacket, with no hood, his old jeans, which he wore whenever he was going to work in the garden, and his green knee-high boots, he rounded the corner of the house. His upper body was twisted slightly to one side as he was carrying a ladder with both hands across the lawn, and then he dug it into the ground, straightened up, and pushed it into position against the house roof.
    I turned back and sped up to catch the others.
    “The rainbow’s still there!” I shouted.
    “We can see it, too!” Leif Tore cried.
    I caught up with them at the start of the path, walked behind Trond’s yellow jacket between the trees, which shed a shower of rain every time anyone lifted a branch, down to the brown house where Molden lived. He didn’t have any young children, only a teenager with long hair, big glasses, brown clothes, and flared trousers. We didn’t even know what his name was, we just called him Molden.
    The best way up to the top of what we called a mountain went past their garden, and that was the path we were taking now, slowly, because it was steep and the long, yellow grass here was slippery. Now and then I grabbed a sapling to pull myself up. Just below the summit, the mountain was bare and protruded outward, impossible to walk up, at least when it was as wet as it was now, but at the edge there was a crevice between the rock face and a gently projecting crag where you could get a foothold and easily clamber up the last few meters to the summit.
    “Where’s it gone?” Trond said, the first man up.
    “It was right there!” Geir said, pointing a few meters along the little plateau.
    “Oh no,” Leif Tore said. “It’s down there. Look!”
    Everyone turned and looked down. The rainbow was over the forest, a long way down. One end was above the trees below Beck’s house, the other near the grassy incline down to the bay.
    “Shall we go down then?” Trond said.
    “What if the treasure’s still here?” Leif Tore said, in the dialect we spoke. “We could at least have a peek.”
    “It isn’t,” I said. “It’s only where the rainbow is.”
    “Who took it then? That’s what I’d like to know,” Leif Tore said.
    “No one did,” I said. “Are you stupid or what? No one brings it either, if that’s what you think. It’s the rainbow.”
    “You’re the one who’s stupid,” Leif Tore said. “It can’t just disappear all on its own.”
    “It seems it can,” I said.
    “No, it can’t,” Leif Tore said.
    “Yes, it can,” I said. “Take a look, then. See if you can find it!”
    “I want to look, too,” Trond said.
    “Me too,” Geir said.
    “Count me out,” I