Now the tears were running down his cheeks, and he rubbed them so hard with the rough sleeve of his jumper that red streaks appeared on his face.

For a moment he had an impulse to put an end to it all. It would be so easy: a few steps to the edge, then he could jump. In a couple of seconds it would all be over, and no one would really care. Rune would surely be relieved. Then he wouldn't have to take care of somebody's else's kid. Maybe he could even meet someone else and have the son he really wanted.

Sebastian stood up. The thought was still tempting. He walked slowly over to the cliff and looked down. It was a steep drop. He tried to imagine how it would feel. To fly through the air, utterly Weightless for a few moments, and then the thud when his body hit the ground. Would he feel anything at all in that instant? Testing, he stuck one foot over the edge of the cliff and let it hang free in the air. Then the thought struck him that he might not die from the fall. What if he survived, but as a cripple or something like that? A drooling vegetable for the rest of his life. Then Rune really would have something to grumble about. Although he would no doubt bundle him off to some nursing home as quickly as possible.

With his foot hanging over the edge Sebastian hesitated. Then he sat down again and slowly scooted back. With his arms hugging his chest he gazed out towards the horizon. Far, far away.

As soon as Niclas walked in the door she threw herself over him.

'What happened? Aina rang and said that the police came and got you at work, is that true?' Lilian's voice was anxious, bordering on panic-stricken. 'I haven't said anything to Charlotte,' she added.

Niclas waved her off, but Lilian wasn't that easy to dismiss. She followed close on his heels as he walked to the kitchen, bombarding him with questions. He ignored her and went straight to the coffee- maker and poured himself a big cup of coffee. The machine was shut off and the coffee was hardly more than lukewarm, but it didn't matter. He needed coffee, or a big glass of whisky, but it was probably best if he stuck to the non-alcoholic alternative.

He sat down at the table, and Lilian followed his example as she scrutinized him. What sort of idiotic ideas had the police come up with now? Didn't they know that Niclas was someone to be respected, a doctor, a successful man? Once again she was amazed that her daughter had had such luck, that she had made such a catch. Of course, they were only teenagers when they started going out together, but Lilian had seen immediately that Niclas was a man with a future, and so she had encouraged the relationship. She ascribed it to luck that Niclas chose Charlotte above all the other girls who were running after him. She was pretty cute, of course, when she made an effort, but even as a teenager she had put on a few too many kilos, and worst of all she had no ambitions. And yet Charlotte had won what her mother had wished for most of all. Lilian had worn her son-in-law's success like a star on her chest, but now everything was at risk. She was terrified of the gossip-mongers in town, who would instantly start spreading rumours if it came out that the police had taken Niclas in for questioning. His eyes were completely red from crying too, so they must have given him a hard time.

'Well, what did they want?'

'They just had a few questions,' Niclas said dismissively, drinking the now lukewarm coffee in big gulps.

'What sort of questions?' Lilian refused to give up. If she was going to have to run the gauntlet whenever she ventured into town, she at least wanted to know what it was all about.

But Niclas ignored her. He got up and put the empty coffee cup in the dishwasher.

'Is Charlotte downstairs?'

'She's resting,' said Lilian, not bothering to conceal her anger at not getting an answer.

'I'm going down to talk to her.'

'What do you want to talk to her about?' Lilian still wouldn't let up. But by now Niclas had had enough.

'That's between me and Charlotte. I already told you it was nothing special. I assume I'm allowed to speak with my own wife without informing you, aren't I? Erica is right, it's time for Charlotte and me to get a place of our own.'

Lilian shrank back with every syllable. Niclas had always treated her with respect, so his words now felt like slaps in the face. Especially after all she had done for him. For him and Charlotte.

The injustice of it all made her blood boil, and she searched for something caustic to say, but found nothing until he was already halfway down the stairs. She sat down at the kitchen table again. Her thoughts were tumbling about in her head. How could he speak to her that way? She had never had anything but their best interests in mind. She had constantly made sacrifices and put her own interests last. They were like leeches, sucking all the energy out of her. Lilian could see it so clearly now. Stig, Charlotte, and now Niclas as well. They were all exploiting her. They took and took from her outstretched hand, without ever giving anything in return.

Charlotte sat thinking about her father. It was strange, but during the eight years that had passed since his death, she had thought about him less and less. The memories had turned into vague, out-of-focus images of a few specific moments. But since Sara died, she remembered him as clearly as if he'd passed away yesterday.

They had been very close, she and Lennart. Much closer than she and her mother had ever been. Sometimes it had almost felt as if they shared the same soul. He had always been able to make her laugh. Her mother seldom laughed, and Charlotte couldn't remember a single instance when they had laughed together. Her father had been the diplomat of the family, always mediating and trying to explain things. For instance, why Lilian kept badgering her daughter, why nothing Charlotte did was ever good enough. Why she could never live up to her mother's expectations. On the other hand, she had never disappointed her father. In his eyes she had been perfect; she knew that.

It came as a shock when he fell ill. The disease progressed so slowly, so gradually, that it took a long time before they even noticed it was happening. Sometimes Charlotte wondered if she could have forestalled his death if she'd been more observant. Seen the signs earlier. But at the time she and Niclas were living in Uddevalla, and she was expecting Sara. She'd been so wrapped up in her own life. When she eventually noticed that he wasn't feeling well, she had for once joined forces with Lilian and wrangled with him until he went in for a medical exam. But by then it was too late. After that, everything happened so fast.

Only a month later he was dead. The doctors said that he'd contracted a rare disease that attacked the nervous system and gradually broke down his body. They also said that it wouldn't have helped if he had come in earlier. But Charlotte still felt guilty.

She wondered whether she could have kept his memory more alive if she'd had more room in which to grieve for him. But Lilian had taken up all the space there was. She'd laid claim to all mourning rights and demanded that her grief take precedence over everyone else's. A torrent of people had passed through their home in the weeks after Lennart had died, and for them Charlotte could just as well have been part of the furniture. All condolences, all expressions of regret were directed towards Lilian, who held audience like a queen. At those moments Charlotte had hated her mother. The ironic thing was that just before they got the news of Lennart's diagnosis, she thought that her father was about to leave Lilian. The quarrels and bickering had escalated, and a separation seemed inevitable. But then Lennart fell ill, and Charlotte realized that her mother had cast all the old grudges aside and devoted herself wholeheartedly to her husband. It was only afterwards that Charlotte had got a bitter taste in her mouth from her mother's seemingly boundless need to be the centre of attention.