He stopped and peered down at her. He was taller than she had anticipated. ‘Do you know Jesus?’ Marit asked in a loud, clear voice and with a smile. The man’s face was bright red and his vision was blurred. The conversation behind her had suddenly died, and out of the corner of her eye she could see that Roy and the girls on the steps had turned towards them. ‘Unfortunately, I don’t,’ the man snuffled. ‘And neither do you, my girl, but perhaps you know Roy Kvinsvik?’ Marit could feel her blushes suffusing her face, and her follow-up – Do you know he’s just waiting to meet you? – became
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