Nora, who preferred cozy evenings at home, had gradually begun to protest. She didn’t mind the odd guest, but sometimes it was nice just to be alone as a family, particularly when the children were small and she was worn out from feeding them and getting up during the night; all she wanted to do was curl up on the sofa in front of the TV.

But Henrik had often insisted. What could be nicer than spending time with friends, he used to say. We can invite a few people. Just one or two. Come on. It’s no big deal.

That made Nora feel dull and boring, a real party pooper. There was no point in discussing it with him; he just wouldn’t listen. So she usually tried to make an effort in order to keep the peace, and she generally enjoyed the company in the end.

Tonight he was in fine form.

“I might not manage that, but if I pour you a glass of wine before I start, perhaps you’ll forgive me if I only get through half?” he said, winking at Nora.

He opened the fridge and took out a bottle of Chardonnay. He poured two glasses and handed one to Nora, then found a bowl and a cutting board, ready to start on the potatoes.

Meanwhile, Nora set the table. They had decided to eat in the garden in order to enjoy the fine evening. She would be serving a mustard sauce along with the perch fillets, together with home-baked rustic baguettes with an herb butter. She had picked some rhubarb earlier and had made an old-fashioned crumble, using her grandmother’s recipe.

It was going to be a lovely dinner.

By the time Kicki found her way back to the Mission House, she was still shaken. Her body was aching with tension, as if she had run a marathon.

She tried to stop thinking about the icy voice that had asked her whether she had really thought about what she was demanding. And what the consequences might be.

Kicki clamped her lips together. She had decided she wasn’t going to let herself be scared off.

If life had been kinder to her, she might not have been standing here, but she had learned a long time ago that there was no point in crying over spilled milk. She loathed the helplessness that came with a lack of money. She despised the fact that she always had to smile and make herself available every evening in the casino, never making a fuss about the drunken clients who were only too happy to paw her with their sweaty hands. She yearned for something else, for another life with different opportunities.

A life that was so close right now that she could almost taste it.

She had only asked for what she was entitled to. Nothing more, nothing less. She knew what she knew, and tomorrow she would go back, and they would reach an agreement. This wasn’t over, not by any means.

She took an angry drag on her cigarette. She’d had to use three matches to light it. She wasn’t allowed to smoke in her room, but she couldn’t care less. With a resolute expression she tried to push away the image of herself she had seen reflected in the eyes of the person who was gazing at her.

A middle-aged woman whose jeans were too tight and whose hair was too long; the color could no longer hide the strands of gray. A woman who was trying to look thirty-five, when in reality she was almost fifteen years older.

Everything reminded her of the fact that she was one of the oldest in her profession, a croupier who could be the mother of the girls at the roulette table. Colleagues who made it very clear that this was something they intended to do for only a few years. You couldn’t waste any more of your life on drunken bastards who gambled away more money than they dared tell their wives about.

She’d had no problem finding her way to the Mission House, which was just past the yellow Sandhamn Värdshus. It had taken five minutes, perhaps even less. Just as the girl in the kiosk had said.

The manager made it very clear that she was lucky to get a room without having booked in advance. A last-minute cancellation freed one of the five rooms, so all she had to do was check in.

Kicki was given the key and went up to the room, which was on the second floor. It was tastefully decorated in an old-fashioned style, with lace curtains. She unpacked the few things she had brought with her, then lay down on the bed to try to gather her thoughts. She had repeatedly gone over what she was going to say. Even though she had decided to take the step, she was nervous and anxious about what was to come.

When she was ready to leave she asked the manager for directions, but she was new to the island and couldn’t help. Kicki wasn’t worried; she was bound to find the place. The island wasn’t that big.

But it wasn’t as easy as she’d expected. Eventually a teenage girl outside the bakery told her which way to go; by then it was already three o’clock.

She knocked on the door, and after a long time, when she was at the point of walking away, it opened. She gave her name and was admitted to the house. It was obvious that she was neither welcome nor expected.

After she explained her errand, there was complete silence. The owner of the house stared at her coldly for a long time before eventually looking away. The gray eyes gave no hint of a reaction to her demand. Instead, silence closed over the room like a lid; the atmosphere became oppressive, suffocating.

Kicki swallowed a couple of times and licked her lips. For a moment she wondered if she had gone too far. The unfamiliar environment was making her uncomfortable. The decor was definitely not to her taste; it was like being a visitor in another world.

Then she thought about her cousin.

“Krister’s dead, and I want my share!”

She kept her eyes fixed firmly forward, determined not to sound nervous or to show her unease. She clenched one fist so tightly that the nails cut into her skin; the pain made her blink, but she tried not to let it show.

Her host suddenly stood up. The movement was so unexpected that Kicki gave a start.

“There’s no need for us to fall out over this. Let me get you something to drink, then we can have a chat.”

Kicki was left alone in the living room. She could hear the sound of cupboard doors opening in the kitchen, the clink of cups and saucers being placed on a tray. She glanced around the room, which was next door to a spacious dining room containing a huge table. She counted a dozen chairs around the table, with four more standing against the walls. The sea view was fantastic. You could almost touch the water.

When she looked up, she was faced once more with that searching expression in those gray eyes.

“Tea?”

She was offered a cup filled to the brim.

CHAPTER 14

The sight that met Thomas’s gaze in the bathroom mirror was a weary, exhausted man. It definitely didn’t look like someone who was due to join the Linde family soon for a pleasant evening.

He had come out to Harö just after six. He was due at Nora’s in an hour, but before that he needed to shave and shower.

Thomas’s house was on one side of northern Harö. His parents had bought the place back in the fifties, long before owning a cottage in the archipelago became so popular. A few years ago they had given their two sons each a part of the land.

There had been an old barn on Thomas’s section. It was pretty dilapidated, but it was in a beautiful location right by the water, with a huge weeping birch beside it. Pernilla and Thomas took on the barn and put a lot of time and effort into transforming it into a proper summer home. A home that was perfect for a family.