‘What are you doing?’ Per turned around with a real sense of surprise to see the angry expression on the maths teacher’s face. Up in the school building there were faces peering from every window, and a small flock of curious bystanders had gathered in the playground. Per stared without emotion at Mattias’s still form, and without resisting allowed himself to be dragged several metres away from his victim.

‘My God, are you out of your mind?’ The maths teacher’s face was only an inch away. He was shouting loudly, but Per turned his head, feeling nothing.

For a moment he had felt so fantastic. Now there was only emptiness.

He stood in the hallway staring at the pictures on the wall for a long time. So many happy times. So much love. The black-and-white photos from their marriage, when he and Britta looked more solemn than they actually felt. Britta holding Anna-Greta in her arms as he took their picture. If he remembered correctly, he’d put down the camera after taking the photo and held his daughter in his arms for the first time. Britta had nervously reminded him to support the baby’s head, but it was as if he instinctively knew how to hold her. And he’d always taken an active role in caring for their babies, to a much greater degree than was expected of a husband back then. Many times his mother-in-law had admonished him, saying that it wasn’t a man’s job to change nappies or give babies a bath. But he couldn’t stay away. It had felt so natural to him, and he didn’t think it was fair for Britta to carry the whole load and mind the three girls that they’d had, so close in age.

Actually, he would have liked to have more children, but after the third birth, which had been ten times more complicated than the first two put together, the doctor had taken him aside and said that Britta’s body probably wouldn’t survive another pregnancy. And Britta had wept. Bowed her head without looking at him and with tears running down her face, she’d apologized for not being able to give him a son. He had stared at her in surprise. It had never occurred to Herman to wish for anything other than what he’d been given. Surrounded by his wife and three girls, he felt richer than he’d ever dreamed possible. It had taken him a while to convince her of this, but when Britta realized that he meant what he said, she stopped crying, and then they focused all their attention on the girls that they’d brought into the world.

Now there were so many to love. The girls had their own children, whom Herman and Britta loved dearly, and he’d once again demonstrated his skill in changing nappies whenever they went over to help out their daughters. It was so hard for them nowadays, trying to handle everything at once, a job, a home, and a family. But he and Britta had been happy and grateful that there was room for them, that there was someone they could help, someone they could love. And now a few of their grandchildren had children. His fingers were certainly stiffer now, but with those new fancy ‘up-and-go’ nappies, he could still change one now and again. He shook his head. Where had all the years gone?

He went upstairs to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. Britta was taking her afternoon nap. It had been a bad day. A few times she hadn’t recognized him, thinking that she was back in her parents’ home. She’d asked for her mother. And then for her father, with fear clearly audible in her voice. And he had stroked her hair, assuring her again and again that her father had been gone for many years. That he could no longer do her any harm.

He caressed her hand as it lay on top of the crocheted coverlet. Her skin was wrinkled, with the same age spots as he had on his own hands. But her fingers were still long and elegant. And he smiled to himself when he saw her pink nail polish. She’d always been a bit vain; she still was. But he had never complained. She’d always been a beautiful wife, and during fifty-five years of marriage, he’d never so much as cast a glance at another woman.

Her eyelids fluttered. She was dreaming about something. He wished that he could get inside her dreams. Live inside them with her, and pretend that everything was the way it used to be.

Today, in her confusion, she’d talked about the thing they’d agreed never to mention. But as her brain disintegrated and crumbled, the dams were bursting, the walls that they’d built up over the years to contain their secret. They’d shared it for so long that it had somehow disappeared inside the fabric of their life, until it was invisible. He’d allowed himself to relax, to forget about it.

It hadn’t been a good idea for Erik to visit her. Not at all. That was what had created the crack in the wall that was now growing bigger. If it couldn’t be plugged, a deluge was going to come pouring out and drag all of them under.

But at least he didn’t have to worry about Erik any more. They didn’t need to worry about Erik any more.

He kept on patting her hand.

‘Oh, I forgot to tell you: Karin phoned. You have a date to meet for a walk at ten o’clock. At the pharmacy.’

Patrik stopped in mid-stride. ‘Karin? Today? In’ – he glanced at his watch – ‘half an hour?’

‘Sorry,’ said Erica, although her tone of voice indicated that she wasn’t the least bit sorry. Then she relented. ‘I was thinking of running over to the library to do some research, so if you and Maja could be ready in twenty minutes, you can catch a ride with me.’

‘Is that…’ Patrik hesitated. ‘Is that all right with you?’

Erica went over and gave him a kiss. ‘Compared with using a police station as a day-care centre for our daughter, a date to take a walk with your ex-wife is nothing.’

‘Ha, ha, very funny,’ said Patrik sullenly, even though he knew Erica was right. What he’d done yesterday was pretty stupid.

‘So don’t just stand there! Go and get dressed! I would definitely object if you went off to meet your ex-wife looking like that.’ Erica laughed, looking her husband up and down as he stood in the bedroom, clad only in his underwear and a pair of tube socks.

‘What, I don’t look hunky enough like this?’ said Patrik, striking a bodybuilder pose. Erica laughed so hard she had to sit down on the bed.

‘Oh, God, stop it.’

‘For your information,’ said Patrik, pretending to be insulted, ‘I’m so disgustingly buff that I have a hard time achieving this look, but it’s important to lull the crooks into a false sense of security.’ He patted his stomach, which quivered a bit more that it should have if he’d touched nothing but muscle. Marriage hadn’t made his waistline dwindle to any significant degree.

‘Stop!’ hooted Erica. ‘I’ll never be able to have sex with you again if you don’t stop it.’ Patrik responded by flinging himself on the bed with his best beast-like howl as he started tickling her.

‘Take that back! Are you going to take that back? Are you?’

‘Yes, yes, I take it back! Now stop!’ cried Erica, who was terribly ticklish.

‘Mamma! Pappa!’ Maja was standing in the doorway, clapping her hands delightedly at the show. She’d been enticed out of her room by all the interesting sounds coming from her parents’ room.

‘Come over here and let Pappa tickle you too,’ said Patrik, lifting Maja on to the bed. The next second both mother and daughter were howling with laughter. Afterwards all three of them lay on the bed, drained and snuggled up next to each other, until Erica abruptly sat up. ‘The two of you better hurry. I can dress Maja while you make yourself decent.’

Twenty minutes later Erica pulled up in front of the municipal building, which also housed the pharmacy and library. This would be the first time she’d met Karin, even though she’d heard a fair bit about her, of course. She wasn’t sure what to expect; Patrik had been rather tight-lipped when it came to the subject of his first marriage.

She parked the car, helped Patrik lift the pushchair out of the boot, and then went with him to meet Karin. Taking a deep breath, she held out her hand.