Of course it had taken a toll on him, which was why he had gone to the Ljuset wellness centre in the Dalecarlian region of Sweden to recuperate. That had been a fortuitous turn of events, because if he hadn’t gone there, he never would have met Vivianne. Meeting her had heralded a turning point for him, both professionally and personally. She had won him over as no other woman had ever done before, and it was her vision that he was now turning into reality.

He couldn’t resist the temptation to pick up the phone and call her. It was the fourth time he’d done so today, but the sound of her voice always made him tingle all over. He held his breath as he listened to the ringtone.

‘Hi, darling,’ he said when she answered. ‘I just wanted to hear how you’re doing.’

‘Erling,’ she said, using that special tone of voice that made him feel like a lovesick schoolboy, ‘I’m as fine as I was when you called an hour ago.’

‘Good,’ he said, grinning sheepishly. ‘I wanted to make sure everything was all right.’

‘I know that, and I love you for it. But we still have so much to do before the opening, and you don’t want me to have to work evenings, do you?’

‘Absolutely not, my darling.’

He resolved not to call and disturb her any more. Their evenings were sacred.

‘Okay. Get back to work, and I’ll do the same.’ He made a few kissing noises into the receiver before he replaced the receiver. Then he leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head, and allowed himself a few minutes to daydream about the impending delights of the evening.

It smelled stuffy inside the cottage. Nathalie opened all the doors and windows to let the brisk wind blow through the rooms. A vase was nearly knocked over by the draught, but she grabbed it at the last second.

Sam lay in the small room next to the kitchen. They had always called it the guest room, even though it had been her bedroom when she was a child. Her parents had slept upstairs. She looked in on him, tucking a shawl around his shoulders. Then she took down the big, rusty key that always hung on a nail just inside the front door and went out on to the rocks. The wind cut through her clothes as she stood there, her back to the house, gazing towards the horizon. The only other building on the island was the lighthouse. The little boathouse down by the dock was so small that it didn’t really count.

She walked over to the lighthouse. Gunnar must have oiled the lock, because the key turned with surprising ease. The door creaked as she pulled it open. Nathalie only had to take a few steps inside before starting up the narrow, steep stairs, holding on to the railing as she climbed.

The view was so beautiful that it left her breathless. It had always had that effect on her. In one direction all she saw was the sea and the distant horizon; in the other direction the archipelago spread out below her, with all the islands, rocks, and skerries. It had been years since the lighthouse was in use. Nowadays it stood as a monument to bygone times. The lamp had been extinguished, and the metal plates and bolts were slowly rusting away from exposure to saltwater and wind. As a child she had loved playing up here. It was so small, like a playroom elevated high above the ground. The only furniture that would fit into the confined space was a bed where the lighthouse keepers could rest during their long shifts, and a chair where they could sit and peer out across the waters.

She lay down on the bed. A musty smell rose up from the bedspread, but the sounds all around her were the same as when she was a child: the shrieking of the gulls, the waves crashing against the rocks, and the groaning sound of the lighthouse itself. Everything had been so simple back then. Her parents had been concerned that she would be bored on the island, since she had no siblings. They needn’t have worried. She loved being here. And she had not been alone. But that was something that she couldn’t have explained to them.

Mats Sverin sighed and shuffled the papers piled on the desk in front of him. Today was one of those days when he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Couldn’t stop wondering. On such days, he got very little done, but they happened less frequently now. He had begun to let go; at least he wanted to think so. He could still see her face so clearly in his mind, and in a sense he was grateful for that. At the same time, he wished the image would start to blur and fade.

He tried to refocus his attention on his work. On good days he quite enjoyed his job. It was a challenge to immerse himself in the town finances, with the constant need to find a balance between political considerations and what was reasonable in terms of the marketplace. During the months that he’d worked here so far, much of his time had naturally been spent on Project Badis. He was pleased that the old hotel building was finally being restored. Like the majority of Fjällbacka residents, both those who still lived in the area and those who had moved away, every time he passed the beautiful structure he had bemoaned the fact that it had been allowed to fall into disrepair. Now it had been returned to its former grandeur.

Mats hoped that Erling’s bombastic promises about the tremendous success this enterprise would enjoy were more than hot air, but he was sceptical. The project had already run up huge expenses for the restoration itself, and the proposed business plan was based on calculations that were far too optimistic. He had tried on a number of occasions to present his view of the situation, without success. And though he had gone over the figures time and time again without finding anything amiss – aside from the massive expenses accrued – nevertheless he had an uneasy feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

He glanced at his watch and saw that it was lunchtime. It had been ages since he’d had any real appetite, but he knew that he needed to eat. Today was Thursday, which meant pancakes and pea soup at the Källaren restaurant. He should be able to get a few bites down, at the very least.

Only the closest friends and family members were to be present at the actual burial. The others silently disappeared in the opposite direction, headed towards town. Erica held on tightly to Patrik’s hand. They walked behind the coffin, and it felt as if every step sent a stab of pain into her heart. She had tried to persuade Anna not to put herself through this ordeal, but her sister had insisted on having a proper funeral. Her desire to see it done right had temporarily roused her from her apathetic state, so Erica had given up trying to convince Anna to change her mind. Instead, she had helped make all the necessary arrangements so that Anna and Dan could bury their son.

On one issue she had refused to relent, however. Anna wanted all the children to attend the funeral, but Erica decided that the youngest should stay at home. Only the two oldest, Dan’s daughters Belinda and Malin, were present. Patrik’s mother Kristina was babysitting for Lisen, Adrian, Emma, and Maja. And the twins, of course. Erica had been a little concerned that this might prove too much for her mother-in-law, but Kristina had calmly assured her that she would have no problem keeping the youngsters under control for the two hours that the funeral would last.

Erica’s heart ached when she looked at Anna’s almost bald head in front of her. The doctors had been forced to shave off nearly all her hair in order to bore through her skull to relieve the pressure that had built up and might cause permanent brain damage if not dealt with at once. A downy layer of hair had started to grow back, but it was a darker colour than before.

Unlike Anna and the driver of the other car, who had died immediately after the accident, Erica had come through with miraculously minor injuries. She had suffered only a bad concussion and several broken ribs. The twins were a bit underweight when they were born by emergency caesarean, but they were strong and healthy and after two months they were allowed to go home from the hospital.