I couldn’t see her from where I was sitting, but I liked her immediately.

‘It’s not exactly appropriate to hold a eulogy under the circumstances,’ she went on. ‘Besides which, I think -’

‘Of course,’ said the man on the table, holding the palms of his hands up to the congregation in a gesture of resignation. ‘I merely thought it was the right moment, now that we know we are all safe and no one has been seriously injured, to remind ourselves that in our mutual rejoicing at -’

‘Brann are a crap team,’ someone yelled, and I immediately recognized the tough kid from my carriage.

The man on the table smiled and opened his mouth to say something.

‘Brann are crap,’ the boy repeated, and burst into song. ‘Vålerengaaa, you are my religion, you’re one in a million, a proud old tradition!’

‘Great,’ said the man with the Brann scarf, smiling contentedly. ‘It’s good to see that young people today are committed to something. And it really does seem as if things are beginning to sort themselves out, both in here and out there as well.’

He pointed vaguely towards the entrance. I had no idea what was going on over there.

‘I merely wanted to point out…’

I almost felt sorry for the bloke. People were sniggering. A few were booing quietly as if they didn’t want to give themselves away, but did want to vent their contempt. This might have had some effect on the man. At any rate he had abandoned the joyous hallelujah tone when he tried to complete the sentence.

‘… that for anyone who is interested, I will be holding a prayer meeting in the hobby room in quarter of an hour. If anyone needs help with the stairs, please let me know. I am surely not alone in -’

‘Shut your gob!’

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.

‘You!’ I said sharply. ‘Yes, you!’