At first Kenneth didn’t understand what was happening. It was as if someone had suddenly put up an invisible wall right in front of him. He was caught in mid-stride, with his feet in the air. Then he toppled forward. Instinctively he put out his hands to break his fall, and the jolt when his palms struck the ground sent pain up through his arms and into his shoulders. After that he felt a different kind of pain. A searing, burning sensation that made him gasp for breath. He looked down at his hands. Both palms were covered with glass. Big and small pieces of clear glass that were slowly coloured red from the blood seeping out of the cuts where the shards had pierced his skin. He didn’t move, and there was not a sound to be heard.

When he finally tried to sit up, he realized his feet were tangled in something. He looked down at his legs. There too the glass had punctured his skin, going right through his trousers. Then he let his gaze wander further over the ground. And that’s when he saw the cord.

‘Come on, you have to help out a little!’ Erica was drenched in sweat. Maja had fought against every garment, from knickers to zip-suit, as her mother tried to get her dressed. By now she was bright red in the face and crying as Erica tried to put mittens on her hands.

‘It’s cold outside. You have to wear mittens,’ she said, even though no amount of verbal persuasion had done any good this morning.

Erica was on the verge of tears herself. She was feeling guilty about all the scolding and arguing, and she would have liked nothing better than to take off Maja’s outdoor clothes and let her stay home from the day-care centre. Then the two of them could spend a cosy day together. But she knew that wasn’t a good idea. She didn’t have the energy to take care of Maja for a whole day on her own, and besides, things would be even worse tomorrow if she gave in right now. If this was what Patrik went through every morning, she could understand why he was looking so worn-out.

With an effort she hauled herself up from a seated position and without further discussion she took her daughter by the hand and led her to the door. She stuffed the mittens in her pocket. Maybe things would be better by the time they got to the day-care centre; at least she hoped that the teachers would have greater success than she’d had.

On their way out to the car, Maja dug in her heels and refused to budge.

‘Come on now, Maja. I can’t carry you.’ Erica took a tighter grip, with the result that Maja toppled over and started to sob. And now Erica was crying too. If anyone had seen her at that moment, they would have phoned the social welfare authorities at once.

Slowly she squatted down, trying to ignore the pinching and squeezing of her intestines. She helped Maja get up and said in a gentler voice:

‘I’m sorry that Mamma was being so stupid. Would you like a hug?’

Maja usually never turned down an opportunity to cuddle, but now she just glared at Erica and cried even louder. She sounded like a fog-horn.

‘Now, now, sweetie,’ said Erica, patting Maja’s cheek. After a few minutes she began to calm down, and the wailing gave way to sniffling. Erica made another attempt:

‘Won’t you give Mamma a hug?’

Maja hesitated for a moment, but then allowed Erica to hug her. She burrowed her face against her mother’s throat, and Erica felt herself getting soaked with snot and tears.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you fall. Did you hurt yourself?’

‘Um-hmm,’ snuffled Maja, looking pitiful.

‘Shall I blow on it?’ asked Erica. That usually did the trick.

Maja nodded.

‘Where should I blow? Where does it hurt?’

Maja thought for a moment and then started pointing at every part of her body that she could reach. Erica blew on them all and then brushed the snow off Maja’s red zip-suit.

‘Don’t you think your friends are waiting for you at the day-care centre?’ said Erica. And then she played her trump card: ‘I’ll bet Ture is there, hoping to see you soon.’

Maja stopped sniffling. Ture was her great love. He was three months older, with more energy than most kids, and a fondness for Maja that matched her feelings for him.

Erica held her breath. Then Maja suddenly smiled. ‘Go see Ture.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Erica. ‘We’re going to go see Ture. And we’d better hurry up or else Ture might get a job in some foreign country or something like that.’

Maja gave her mother a puzzled look, and Erica couldn’t help laughing.

‘Don’t pay any attention to your silly mamma. Now let’s go see Ture.’

15

He was ten years old when everything changed. He had actually adapted quite well by that time. He wasn’t happy, not the way he thought he would be when he saw his beautiful mother for the first time, or the way he had been before Alice started growing inside of her stomach. But he wasn’t unhappy either. He had a place in life, able to dream himself far away through the world of books, and he was content with that. And the fat on his body protected him; it was an armour against what was chafing inside.

Alice loved him as much as always. She followed him like a shadow but didn’t say much, which suited him just fine. If he needed anything, she was right there. If he was thirsty, she would bring him some water; if he wanted something to eat, she would slip into the pantry and fetch the pastries that Mother had hidden away.

Occasionally Father would still have that strange look in his eyes, but he no longer kept watch over him. Alice was big now. She was five years old, and she had finally learned to walk and talk. But she looked like other children only if she stood still and didn’t speak. Then she looked so sweet that people would stop and stare at her, just as they had done when she was little and sat in the pushchair. If she moved or said something, a look of pity would appear on their faces as they shook their heads.

The doctor had said that she would never be right. Of course he wasn’t allowed to go to the doctor appointments. He was never allowed to go with them anywhere, but he hadn’t forgotten how to creep about like an Indian brave. He moved through the house without making a sound, and he was always listening. He heard their discussions and knew everything that was said about Alice. It was mostly Mother who talked. She was the one who took Alice to all the doctor appointments, trying to find some new treatment, a new method or new type of exercise that might help Alice and make her movements, her speech, and her abilities better match the way she looked.

No one ever talked about him. That was also something he learned by eavesdropping. It was as if he didn’t exist; he merely took up space. But he had learned to live with that. The few times that he felt hurt, he would think about the smell and what was now starting to seem more and more like an evil fairy tale. A distant memory. That was enough to enable him to live with being invisible to everyone except Alice. Now that he had made her be nice.

A phone call changed everything. The Old Bitch had died, and her house now belonged to Mother. The house in Fjällbacka. They hadn’t been there since Alice was born, not since that summer in the caravan when he had lost everything. Now they were going to move there. Mother was the one who made the decision. Father tried to object, but as usual nobody listened to him.

Alice didn’t like change. She wanted everything to always remain the same, the same things every day, the same routines. So when all of her possessions were packed up and they were sitting in the car with Father behind the wheel, Alice turned around and pressed her nose against the back window, peering at the house until it was lost from sight. Then she turned around to face forward again, moving close to him. She laid her cheek on his shoulder, and for a moment he considered consoling her, giving her a little pat on the head or taking her hand. But he didn’t do it.