Erica kept on reading, searching the pages for anything that might quell the uneasiness she was feeling. But it wasn’t until she reached the final pages of the third book that she found something that might have a plausible link to Axel.

All of a sudden she knew what to do. She swung her legs down from the desk, picked up the diaries and carefully slipped them into her handbag. After opening the front door to check on the temperature, she put on a light jacket and set off at a brisk pace.

She climbed the steep stairs to Badis, pausing at the top, sweating from exertion. The old restaurant looked deserted and abandoned now that the summer rush was over, but its popularity had been waning the past few years and even in the height of summer it was rarely busy. And yet it occupied a prime location on a hillside offering unobstructed views of the Fjällbacka archipelago. Sadly the building had fallen into disrepair over the years, and presumably it would require a major investment to make something of Badis.

The house she was looking for was located a bit beyond the restaurant, and she was hoping that the person she sought would be at home.

A pair of lively eyes looked at her when the door opened. ‘Yes?’ the woman said.

‘My name is Erica Falck.’ She hesitated for a moment. ‘I’m the daughter of Elsy Moström.’

Something glittered in Britta’s eyes. For a moment she just stood there, unmoving and without saying a word. Then she suddenly smiled and stepped aside.

‘Yes, of course. Elsy’s daughter. I can see it now. Come in.’

The house was bright and pleasant, and Erica’s inquisitive gaze took in the scores of photos – children and grandchildren, and maybe even a few great-grandchildren – that covered the walls. ‘How many children do you have, ma’am?’ she asked, studying the pictures.

‘Three daughters. And for God’s sake don’t call me ma’am. It makes me feel so old. Not that I’m exactly young. But there’s no reason a person has to feel old. Age is just a number, after all.’

‘How true,’ said Erica with a laugh. She liked this old lady.

‘Come in and sit down,’ said Britta, touching Erica’s elbow lightly. After taking off her shoes and jacket, Erica followed her into the living room.

‘You have such a nice home.’

‘We’ve lived here for fifty-five years,’ said Britta. Her face looked gentle and sunny whenever she smiled. She sat down on the big sofa with the floral upholstery and patted the cushion next to her. ‘Sit here, so we can have a little chat. It’s so nice to meet you. Elsy and I… we spent a lot of time together when we were young.’

For a moment Erica thought she heard the same odd undertone in Britta’s voice that had crept into Axel’s when he talked of her mother, but the next second it was gone, and Britta was smiling her gentle smile again.

‘Well, I found a few things that my mother left behind when I was clearing out the attic and… well, they made me curious. I don’t really know much about my mother’s past. For instance, how did the two of you get to know each other?’

‘We were classmates, Elsy and I. We always sat next to each other from our very first day at school.’

‘And you were friends with Erik and Axel too?’

‘More with Erik than Axel. Erik’s brother was a few years older, and he probably thought us too childish. But he was a terribly handsome boy, that Axel.’

‘Yes, that’s what I heard,’ laughed Erica. ‘By the way, he’s still handsome.’

‘I’m inclined to agree with you, but don’t tell my husband,’ Britta whispered melodramatically.

‘I promise I won’t.’ Erica was warming more and more to her mother’s old friend. ‘What about Frans? From what I understand, Frans Ringholm was also part of your little group. Is that right?’

Britta stiffened. ‘Frans? Yes, well, Frans was also in our group.’

‘It sounds as though you weren’t too keen on Frans.’

‘Not keen on him? Oh, but I was. I was terribly in love with him. But the feeling wasn’t mutual. He only had eyes for… someone else.’

‘Oh? And who was that?’ asked Erica, even though she thought she knew the answer.

‘Your mother. He followed her around like a puppy. Not that it did any good. Elsy would never have fallen for someone like Frans. Only a silly goose like me would make that mistake, because all I cared about then was how a boy looked. And he was definitely attractive. In that slightly dangerous way that seems so enticing to teenage girls but terrifying when they get older.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ said Erica. ‘Dangerous men seem to be enticing even to older women.’

‘You’re probably right,’ said Britta, looking out the window. ‘But, as luck would have it, I grew out of that phase. And grew out of liking Frans. He… he wasn’t the sort of man I wanted in my life. Not like my Herman.’

‘Aren’t you judging yourself a bit harshly? You don’t seem like a silly goose to me.’

‘No, not now. But I might as well admit it – until I met Herman and had my first child… No, I was not a nice girl.’

Britta’s candour surprised Erica. That was quite a harsh opinion she had of herself.

‘What about Erik? What was he like?’

Again Britta turned her gaze to the window. She seemed to be considering how to answer. Then her expression softened. ‘Erik was like a little old man even as a child. But I don’t mean that in a negative way. He just seemed old for his age. And sensible, in an adult sort of way. He was always thinking about things. And reading. His nose was always in some book or other. Frans used to tease him about that. But Erik was probably a bit odd because of who his brother was.’

‘I understand that Axel was very popular.’

‘Axel was a hero. And the person who admired him most was Erik. He worshipped the ground his brother walked on. In Erik’s eyes, Axel could do no wrong.’ Britta patted Erica’s leg and then stood up abruptly. ‘You know what? I’m going to put on some coffee. Elsy’s daughter. How nice. So very nice.’

Erica stayed where she was while Britta disappeared into the kitchen. She heard the clattering of china and trickling of water. Then not another sound. Erica waited calmly, sitting on the sofa and enjoying the view that stretched out in front of her. But after a few more minutes of silence, she started to smell something burning. ‘Britta?’ she called. ‘Is everything all right?’ No answer. She got up and went out to the kitchen to look for her hostess.

Britta was sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space. One of the burners on the stove was glowing a fiery red. An empty coffee pot stood on it, and it had just started to smoke. Erica rushed over to pull the pot off the stove. ‘Damn!’ she cried as she burned her hand. To quell the pain, she stuck her hand under running water. Then she turned to Britta.

‘Britta?’ she said gently. The woman’s face had taken on such a vacant expression that for a moment Erica was afraid she must have suffered some sort of seizure. But then Britta turned to look at her.

‘To think that you finally came over to say hello to me, Elsy.’

Erica gave her a puzzled look. She said, ‘Britta, I’m Erica, Elsy’s daughter.’

The words didn’t seem to register with the old woman. ‘Oh, Elsy,’ she said, ‘I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time, to explain. But I just couldn’t…’

‘What couldn’t you explain? What did you want to talk to Elsy about?’ Erica sat down across from Britta, her heart racing. For the first time she felt as if she were on the verge of discovering whatever secret it was that Erik and Axel had tried to hide from her.

But Britta just looked at her in confusion. Resisting the urge to shake her, force her to say what had been on the tip of her tongue, Erica repeated the question: ‘What couldn’t you explain? Something about my mother? What is it?’

Britta waved her hand dismissively but then leaned forward across the table. In a voice that was almost a whisper she hissed: ‘Wanted to talk to you. But old bones. Must. Rest in peace. Will serve no purpose to… Erik said that… unknown soldier…’ Her voice faded into a murmur and she stared into space again.