[Subsection]

Summer days. He met Olav. There was no school, and each came barefooted down his own short cut to the river. When they found each other and sat down on the turf side by side, Per was at peace.

Their hands and wrists lay side by side on the slope: narrow, bony wrists, not quite white.

They bathed in the backwater. Olav ran about with England etched finely and sharply on the small of his back.

They sat on a rock and let the sun dry them. The moisture ran off them and down onto the flat, warm stone, making runnels which dried up before they got any farther. Per's body gave off a fragrance as he dried; Olav's body was also fragrant as it dried close beside him.

It seemed as if there could be no barrier between them when they sat like this. But there most likely was. They did not discuss everything with each other.

Per asked suddenly, "What is it you don't want to tell me?"

"What?" said Olav, standing up. He had been lying stretched out on the comfortable rock.

"There's something you know that you don't want to tell me."

Olav reddened. "No," he said.

It shot through Per that Olav was lying. "Yes, there is!" he said.

"No!" said Olav, scared, and got up and went over to where his clothes were lying on the grass. His birthmark stretched and changed shape when he bent down for his shirt. Then he put the shirt over his head, slipped into his trousers, and was dressed. He set off through the copse toward Bringa farm.

Per remained sitting on the rock. The Tvinna slapped gently against the edge of the stone, shallow and harmless.

No, they didn't talk about everything hidden inside them. He didn't do so himself. They didn't do so at home at Bufast either. He had noticed it: from time to time they fell silent and hid something away. Olav had something hidden too. He himself had a great deal that was painful and confused and nameless, that simply was there and must not come out. If you talked about it, the heavens would fall, or something equally terrible would happen.

He shouted so that it echoed: "Olav!"

He shouted a second time. Then he got dressed and took the same path as Olav had. There he sat, breaking a twig into small pieces. He got up.

"I know where there's a new thrush's nest," he said.

They went to see it.

It was in the cleft of a birch tree. The young birds were half grown. The thrushes screamed.

Olav fumbled, trying to say something.

"I spoiled a thrush's nest once," he said quickly, looking straight in front of him. "There were four eggs and I smashed them to bits. It was a long time ago, but still---"

He did not look at Per but moved slowly away. Per moved after him, ill at ease. Olav had told him a little of what he kept hidden; now he would have to do the same. No, he would not! He could not; they were only shapeless tangles. He had to attack Olav in order to defend himself.

"You're a liar as well," he said.

"Am I?" said Olav.

"Yes. You said there wasn't anything you didn't want to say. But you knew about this."

"Yes, but I've told you now," said Olav.

"Not everything. There's so much you haven't told me, that---"

Olav let fly at him and knocked him down. Per had such a guilty conscience that he felt sick. He ought to have hit back. But. . .

"I have to go home," said Olav.

He really did this time. Per watched him go. Olav looked   [p. 56]   back. Per turned away quickly, but then he watched him again. There was Olav, barefoot, dressed in shirt and trousers, the white shirt hiding a birthmark that looked like England. Per thought: We must always be together.