Her hair had always been her pride and joy. Blonde and curly. He saw her eyes fill with tears when she stood in front of the mirror and slowly ran her hand over the sparse wisps that remained after the treatment. He still found her beautiful, but he knew that it made her sad. So the first thing he did when he had occasion to drive to Göteborg was to go into a shop and buy her a Hermès scarf. She had been longing for a scarf like that, but had always objected when he wanted to buy her one. ‘It’s not right to pay so much money for a small piece of fabric,’ she had told him when he tried to insist.

Nonetheless, when he went to Göteborg he bought her a scarf. The most expensive one in the shop. With an effort she had climbed out of bed and opened the package, taking out the scarf and carrying it over to the mirror. With her eyes fixed on her own face she had wrapped the glossy silk square with the yellow and gold pattern around her head. It had hidden the hair loss and dulled the cold. And it had brought back the gleam in her eye, which the harsh treatment had taken away, along with her hair.

She hadn’t said a word, just walked over to him as he sat on her bed, leaned down, and kissed him on the top of his head. Then she had crawled back into bed. Ever since, she had always worn that scarf wrapped around her head.

‘I want Annette to have that heavy gold necklace, and give Josefine the pearls. They can divide up the rest as they see fit. Let’s just hope that they don’t end up fighting as a result.’ Lisbet laughed, certain that her sister’s daughters would be able to agree on how to share the jewellery she was leaving behind.

Kenneth gave a start. He’d been lost in his own memories, and her words came as a cruel awakening. He understood his wife and her need to make arrangements for everything before she died. At the same time, he couldn’t bear being reminded of the inevitable, which was no longer very far away, according to those who knew about such things. He would have given anything not to be sitting here, holding her frail hand in his own and listening to his beloved wife dividing up her earthly goods.

‘And I don’t want you to live alone for the rest of your life. Get out once in a while so you have a chance to see what’s available. But stay away from those Internet dating services, because I think that -’

‘Okay, that’s enough of that,’ he said, stroking her cheek. ‘Do you really think that any other woman could ever measure up to you? It’s better not even to go looking.’

‘I don’t want you to be alone,’ she said solemnly, gripping his hand as hard as she could. ‘Do you hear me? You have to go on with your life.’ Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, and he gently wiped them away with the handkerchief lying on the bedside table.

‘You’re here with me right now. And that’s the only thing that matters.’

They sat in silence for a while, gazing into each other’s eyes and seeing their whole life together. The great passion in the beginning, which had never really disappeared, even though daily life sometimes nibbled away at the edges. All the laughter, all the friendship, all the companionship. All the nights they had lain close, so close to each other as she rested her cheek on his chest. All the years of yearning for children that never came, their hopes flushed away in torrents of red, until finally they had reached a stage of calm acceptance. Their lives filled with friends, shared interests, and love for one another.

His mobile was ringing out in the front hall. He didn’t get up, though he let go of her hand. But the phone kept ringing, and finally she nodded at him.

‘You might as well take the call. It sounds like someone is really trying to get hold of you.’

Kenneth reluctantly stood up, went out to the hall, and picked up his mobile from the bureau. ‘Erik’, it said on the display. Again he felt annoyance wash over him. Even now he insisted on intruding.

‘Yes?’ he said, making no effort to hide his feelings. But his mood changed as he listened to what Erik had to say. He asked a few, brief questions and then ended the conversation before going back into Lisbet’s room. He took a deep breath as he fixed his gaze on her face, so ravaged by illness but in his eyes so beautiful, framed by a halo of yellow and gold.

‘It seems that they’ve found Magnus. And he’s dead.’

Erica had tried to ring Patrik several times, but there was no answer. He must be really busy down at the station.

She was at home, sitting in front of her computer and doing a search on the Internet. Though she stubbornly tried to focus on the task, there was no denying that it was distracting to have two sets of feet kicking inside her stomach. It was hard to keep her thoughts in check. And her worries. She recalled the early days with Maja, which hadn’t been anything like the rosy visions of baby bliss that she’d imagined. That period was like a black hole, when she thought back on it, and now it was going to be doubled. Two to feed, two babies waking up in the middle of the night, two demanding all her attention, all her time. Maybe she was selfish, maybe that was why she had such a hard time placing her very existence, her whole life in someone else’s hands. The hands of her children. She cringed at the idea, and then instantly felt guilty. Why on earth did she feel so anxious about something as incredible as having two more children, two gifts at one time? But she did. She was so worried that it was practically tearing her apart. Yet this time she knew the result. Maja was such a joy that Erica didn’t regret for one second the difficult period she’d been through. But she still had the memories of what it had been like, and they continued to bother her.

Suddenly she felt a kick that was so hard she had to gasp for breath. One of the babies, or maybe both of them, seemed to have a talent for football. The pain brought her back to the present. She was well aware that she was preoccupied with her speculations about Christian and the letters because it kept other thoughts and worries away. But she didn’t see anything wrong with that.

She opened Google and typed in his name: Christian Thydell. She got several pages of hits. All of them had to do with his book; none of them mentioned anything about his past. She tried adding ‘Trollhättan’. No hits. But if he had lived there, he must have left some traces behind. And she should be able to find out more about him. She chewed on her thumbnail as she thought. Could it be that she was off on the wrong track? There was really nothing in the letters to indicate that they’d come from someone Christian had known before he moved to Fjällbacka.

She kept coming back to the question: why was he so secretive about his past? It felt as though Christian had erased the life he’d lived before he arrived in Fjällbacka. Or was she the only one he refused to talk to? The thought stung, but she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Of course he hadn’t been particularly open with his colleague at work either, but that was a whole different matter. Erica felt that she and Christian had become friends when they worked on his manuscript, tossing around thoughts and ideas, discussing tone and nuances in his writing. But maybe that wasn’t the case after all.

Erica realized that she ought to talk to more of Christian’s friends before she let her imagination run wild. But who? She had only a vague notion of who belonged to Christian’s circle of friends. Magnus Kjellner was the first person who came to mind, but unless some sort of miracle occurred, that wasn’t an option. Christian and Sanna also seemed to socialize with Erik Lind, the man who owned that construction company, and his partner, Kenneth Bengtsson. Erica had no idea how close they were to Christian, or which of them she should talk to in order to obtain the most information. And besides, how would Christian react if he found out that she was going around questioning everyone he knew?