Paula and Martin got back in the car and continued their journey without speaking. But they were both thinking the same thing: What was it they were not seeing?

‘We can’t put it off any more. She won’t be able to stay here at home much longer.’ Herman looked at his daughters with such deep despair that they could hardly stand to return his gaze.

‘We know that, Pappa. You’re doing the right thing. There’s no other option. You’ve taken care of Mamma for as long as you could, but now others will have to step in. We’ll find a really great place for her.’ Anna-Greta went to stand behind her father’s chair, wrapping her arms around him. She shuddered to feel how gaunt his body felt under his shirt. Their mother’s illness had taken a heavy toll on him. Perhaps more than they’d known. Or wanted to see. She leaned forward and pressed her cheek against Herman’s.

‘We’re here to help you, Pappa. Birgitta and Maggan and our families. You know we’re here for you. You never need to feel alone.’

‘Without your mother, I do feel alone. But there’s nothing to be done about it,’ said Herman listlessly, quickly wiping away a tear with his shirtsleeve. ‘Still, I know that this is best for Britta. I know that.’

His daughters exchanged glances over their father’s head. Herman and Britta had been the centre of all their lives, a solid rock that they could always depend on. Now the very foundation of their lives was crumbling, and they reached out as if to steady each other. It was frightening to watch their mother shrink, becoming more and more diminished until she seemed smaller than themselves. Now it was necessary for them to step in and be the adults, taking on the burden of the ones they had always regarded, throughout their entire childhood and adolescence, as infallible, indestructible. Of course, they had long since ceased to look upon their parents as godlike creatures who had the answer to everything, but it was still painful to watch Britta and Herman fading this way.

Anna-Greta hugged her father’s gaunt form a few more times and then sat down at the kitchen table again.

‘Will she manage all right while you’re here?’ asked Maggan, looking worried. ‘Should I run over and look in on her?’

‘She had just fallen asleep when I left,’ said Herman. ‘But she usually doesn’t sleep more than an hour, so I’d better go back home.’ Wearily he got to his feet.

‘Why don’t we go over there and stay with her for a couple of hours? Then you can take a rest,’ said Birgitta. ‘Pappa could lie down in your guest room, couldn’t he?’ she asked Maggan, since it was at her house they had gathered in to talk about their mother.

‘That’s an excellent idea,’ said Maggan, nodding eagerly at her father. ‘Go in and rest for a while, and we’ll nip over to be with Mamma.’

‘Thank you, girls,’ said Herman, as he headed for the hall. ‘But your mother and I have taken care of each other for over fifty years, and I’d like to continue to take care of her for the short time that we have left. Once she’s settled in the nursing home, then…’ He didn’t finish his sentence but instead rushed out the door before his daughters could see his tears.

Britta smiled in her sleep. The lucid moments that her brain denied her when she was awake became all the more frequent when she slept. Then she saw everything clearly. Some of the memories were not welcome but forced themselves upon her nevertheless. Like the sound of her father’s belt striking a child’s bare behind. Or the sight of her mother’s tear-stained cheeks. Or the cramped confines of the little house on the hill, where the shrill cries of a child echoed in the space, making her want to clap her hands over her ears and scream too. But there were other things that were more pleasant to recall. Like the summers when they played merrily, racing over the rocks warmed by the sun. Elsy in one of the floral dresses that her mother had made by hand. Erik in his short pants, with his solemn face. Frans with his curly blond hair. She had always longed to run her fingers through his curls, even back when they were so young that there seemed no significant difference between boys and girls.

A voice forced its way through the memories as she slept. A voice that was all too familiar. It had been speaking to her more and more often lately. Not allowing her any peace, whether she was awake, asleep, or wrapped in a haze. The voice that penetrated through everything, wanted everything, insisted on taking a place in her world. The voice that denied her respite, refused to let her forget. The voice that she thought she’d never hear again. Yet here it was. So strange. And so frightening.

She rolled her head from side to side in her sleep, trying to shake off the voice, shake off the memories that were disturbing her rest. Finally she succeeded. Happy memories came to the fore. The first time she saw Herman. The moment when she knew that the two of them would spend their lives together. Their wedding, walking down the aisle in her white gown, giddy with happiness. The labour pains and then the love when Anna-Greta was born. And Birgitta and Margareta, whom she loved just as much. Herman taking care of the children, doing it out of love, not out of duty or obligation. She smiled. Her eyelids fluttered. This was where she wanted to stay. Here, with these memories. If she had to choose a single memory to fill her mind for the rest of her life, it was the image of Herman bathing their youngest daughter in the little bathtub. He was humming as he carefully supported her small head with his hand. With infinite gentleness he rubbed her chubby body with a washcloth, looking into his daughter’s eyes as she followed his every move. Britta saw herself standing in the doorway, watching without drawing her husband’s attention. Even if she forgot everything else, she would fight to hold on to that memory. Herman and Margareta, his hand under her head, the tenderness and closeness.

A sound forced her out of her dreams. She wanted to go back. Back to the sound of water splashing as Herman dipped the flannel in the basin. The sound of Margareta’s contented prattling as the warm water sloshed around her. But a new sound was forcing Britta closer to the surface. Closer to the fog that she wanted at all costs to avoid. Waking up meant risking being enveloped in the grey, confusing haze that took over her mind and had begun swallowing up more and more of her time.

At last she reluctantly opened her eyes. Somebody was leaning over her, looking at her. Britta smiled. Maybe she wasn’t yet fully awake. Maybe she could still fend off the fog with the memories that came to her in her sleep.

‘Is that you?’ she asked, staring up at the person leaning over her. Her body felt loose-jointed and heavy with sleep, which hadn’t yet completely left her. She didn’t have the strength to move. For a moment neither of them spoke. There wasn’t much to say. Then a sense of certainty forced its way into Britta’s brain. Memories rose to the surface. Feelings that had been forgotten now flashed and awakened to life. And she felt terror take hold. The fear from which she’d been released because of her gradual loss of memory. Now she saw Death standing beside her bed, and her entire being protested at having to leave this life, leave everything that was hers. She gripped the sheet in her hands, but her parched lips could manage only a few guttural sounds. Terror spread through her body, making her roll her head rapidly from side to side. Desperately she tried to send thoughts to Herman, as if he might hear her through the telepathic waves. But she knew it was in vain. Death had come to get her, the scythe would soon fall, and there was no one who could help her. She would die alone in her bed. Without Herman. Without the girls. Without saying farewell. At that moment the fog was gone and her mind was clearer than it had been in a long time. With fear racing like a wild animal in her chest, she managed at last to take a deep breath and utter a scream. Death didn’t move. Just kept staring at her as she lay in bed, staring and smiling. Not an unfriendly smile, but that made it all the more frightening.