WHEN OLSEN TURNED OUT at four-fifteen, to take over his watch at half past, he was so filled with excitement that his fingers trembled as he knotted the laces of his canvas shoes. This was the day, and by the end of his two hours’ watch it would be almost the hour! The feeling of anticipation was rather like the hour or two before a very special party: you had everything ready, the drinks out, the snacks made, the ashtrays strategically placed. You shaved, and chose a tie with care: perhaps you had a quick one before the crowd came, and you hoped that she’d arrive a bit ahead of the rush...
She... He told himself not to be a bloody fool. It was enough that he’d be meeting his countrymen, among them the famous and respected Bishop Dalen. For heaven’s sake, forget the adolescent imagery! He
