‘Yes, but how old were they at the time? Seventeen? Eighteen?’

‘I still think I’m right,’ Gunnar stubbornly insisted. ‘And he was going to go out there to see her.’

‘Excuse me.’ Patrick broke into the conversation. ‘But who is Nathalie?’

‘Nathalie Wester. She and Matte grew up together. As a matter of fact, they were in the same class as your wife. Both Matte and Nathalie.’

Gunnar seemed a bit embarrassed to admit that he knew Erica, but Patrik wasn’t surprised. Almost everybody in Fjällbacka knew everyone else, but they also took a special interest in Erica because her books were so popular.

‘Does Nathalie still live here?’

‘No, she moved away years ago. She went to Stockholm, and she and Matte haven’t been in contact since then. But she owns an island near here. It’s called Gråskär.’

‘And you think that Mats went out there to see her?’

‘He might not have had time to do that,’ said Gunnar. ‘But you can phone Nathalie and ask her.’ He got up to get a note that was stuck on the refrigerator door. ‘Here’s her mobile number. I don’t know how long she’s planning to stay. She’s out there with her little boy.’

‘Does she come here often?’

‘No, in fact we were a bit surprised. She’s hardly been here since she moved to Stockholm. Her last visit was years ago. But the island belongs to her. Her paternal grandfather bought it, and Nathalie is the only descendent left, since she doesn’t have any siblings. We’ve looked after the house for her, but if nothing is done with the lighthouse very soon, it’ll end up beyond saving.’

‘The lighthouse?’

‘Yes, there’s an old lighthouse from the nineteenth century out there on the island. And a cottage. In the past, that’s where the lighthouse keeper used to live with his family.’

‘It sounds like a lonely life.’ Patrik downed the last of his cold coffee, unable to stop himself from grimacing.

‘Lonely, or beautiful and peaceful. It all depends how you look at it,’ said Signe. ‘But I could never spend a single night out there alone.’

‘Weren’t you always the one who said that was just a load of rubbish and old wives’ tales?’ said Gunnar.

‘What do you mean?’ Patrik’s curiosity was instantly sparked.

‘The island is usually called Ghost Isle. According to legend, it was given the name because those who die out there never leave the island,’ said Gunnar.

‘So there are ghosts?’

‘It’s nothing but gossip,’ snorted Signe.

‘Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to give Nathalie a call. Thank you so much for the coffee and biscuits, and for taking the time to answer my questions.’ Patrik got up and pushed his chair under the table.

‘It was nice to talk about him,’ said Signe softly.

‘Would you mind if I borrowed these for a while?’ Patrik pointed at the photographs from the hospital. ‘I promise to take good care of them.’

‘Go ahead and take them.’ Gunnar handed him the pictures. ‘We have a digital camera, so I have the pictures on my computer.’

‘Thank you,’ said Patrik, carefully sliding the photos into his briefcase.

Signe and Gunnar both went with him to the door. As he got in the car, he replayed in his mind all those images of Mats Sverin as a boy, a teenager, and an adult. He decided to drive home for lunch. He felt an overwhelming urge to give the twins a kiss.

‘How’s Grandpa’s little sweetie-pie today?’

Mellberg had also gone home for lunch, and as soon as he set foot inside the door, he grabbed Leo from Rita and began lifting him high in the air, making the boy shriek with delight.

‘Typical! When Grandpa comes home, Grandma might as well disappear.’ Rita frowned but then a smile took over, and she gave them each a kiss on the cheek.

A special bond had existed between Bertil and Leo ever since Bertil had been present at the baby’s birth, and no one was more pleased about this than Rita. Nevertheless she was relieved when Bertil had been convinced to return to work full-time. It had seemed like a good idea to have him fill in for Paula at home, but no matter how much she adored this unlikely hero of hers, she had no illusions when it came to his judgement, which at times was questionable, to say the least.

‘What’s for lunch?’ Mellberg carefully set the boy in his highchair and tied a bib around his neck.

‘Chicken and my homemade salsa that you like so much.’

Mellberg hummed with pleasure. All his life he had never eaten anything more exotic than boiled lamb with dill sauce, potatoes and carrots, but Rita had managed to change all that. Her salsa was so strong that it practically burned the enamel off his teeth, but he loved it.

‘You got home late last night.’ She placed a dish on the table with some less spicy food that she’d made for Leo, and Bertil began feeding the boy.

‘Yes, we’re all going at full throttle again. Paula and the boys are out doing the footwork, but Hedström pointed out, quite rightly, that someone needed to be at the station to deal with the media. And no one is better suited than me to take on such a big responsibility.’ He shovelled a little too much food into Leo’s mouth, who fortunately just let half of it slide right out again.

Rita suppressed a smile. Clearly Patrik had once more succeeded in out-manoeuvring his boss. She liked Hedström. He knew how to handle Mellberg: with patience, diplomacy, and a certain degree of flattery that could get Bertil to do exactly what he wanted. She did the same in order to ensure that their life together ran smoothly.

‘You poor thing. It sounds as if you’re really busy.’ She put some chicken on his plate along with a generous serving of salsa.

Leo had finished eating, so Mellberg dug into his own food. A couple of servings later, he leaned back and patted his stomach.

‘Delicious. And I know exactly what would be perfect to follow that. What do you think, Leo my boy?’ He got up and went over to the freezer.

Rita knew that she ought to stop him, but she didn’t have the heart. She let him take out three big Magnum ice-cream bars, which he happily handed out. Leo almost disappeared behind the huge bar. If Bertil kept on like this, the boy would soon be as wide as he was tall. For today, however, she decided not to worry about it.

FJÄLLBACKA 1870

She moved a little closer to Karl. He was lying on the side of the bed next to the wall, wearing long underwear and a shirt. In a couple of hours he would have to get up to relieve Julian in the lighthouse. Cautiously she placed her hand on his leg, stroking his thigh with trembling fingers. She wasn’t the one who was supposed to take the lead like this, but something was wrong. Why didn’t he ever touch her? He hardly even spoke to her. Merely mumbled his thanks for the food before leaving the table. And he seemed to be always looking past her, as if she were made of glass and barely noticeable, in fact almost invisible.

For that matter, he spent very little time at home. During most of his waking hours he was in the lighthouse or doing work on the boat. Or he was out at sea. She spent all day utterly alone in the cottage, and her housework was soon finished. After that, she had many hours to fill, and she began to think that she might go mad. If she had a baby, she would have someone to keep her company, and other tasks to occupy her time. Then she wouldn’t mind that Karl worked from early morning until late at night, and it wouldn’t matter that he never talked to her. If only they would have a child.

But after living on the farm, she knew that certain things had to happen between a man and a woman before she could end up in the family way. Things that hadn’t yet occurred. That was why she put her hand on Karl’s leg and ran it along the inside of his thigh. Her heart was pounding with nervousness and excitement as she gently slipped her hand inside the fly of his underwear.