Sometimes she dreamt about killing him. To anticipate him in what she now knew would be the inevitable conclusion. Occasionally she would watch him as he slept next to her, during the long hours of the night when she lay awake, unable to relax enough to escape into sleep. Then she would imagine with pleasure how one of the kitchen knives would slip into his flesh and slice through the fragile thread that bound him to life. Or she would feel the rope cutting into her hands as she cautiously looped it round his neck and pulled it tight.

But it went no further than wonderful dreams. Something inside her, maybe an inherent cowardice, made her lie still in bed while dark thoughts ricocheted around in her skull.

Sometimes she pictured Erica's baby before her in the night. The little girl she had not yet seen. She envied the child. She would be getting the same warmth, the same care that Anna herself had received from Erica when they were growing up, more as mother and daughter than as sisters. But back then she hadn't appreciated Erica. She had felt suffocated and inferior. The bitterness that she felt from their mother's lack of love had apparently made her heart so. hard that it wasn't receptive to what her sister had tried to give her. Anna sincerely hoped that Maja would be better able to accept the enormous ocean of love that she knew Erica was capable of giving. Especially for her sister's sake. Despite their difference in age and the distance that separated them, Anna knew her sister so well. She knew that if there was anyone who was in desperate need of having her love reciprocated, it was Erica. The odd thing was that Anna had always viewed her as being so strong, and her own bitterness had been diluted by that feeling. Now that she herself was. weaker than ever before, she saw her sister as she actually was. Scared to death that everyone would see what their mother had seen, what had made her see the two sisters as unworthy of love. If only Anna had one more chance, she would throw her arms around Erica and thank her for all those years of unconditional love. Thank her for the concern, for the scoldings, for the worried look in her eyes when she thought that Anna was on the wrong track. Thank her for everything that had previously made Anna feel suffocated and constricted. How ironic. She hadn't really known what it felt like to be suffocated and truly constricted. Not until now.

The sound of the key in the lock made her jump. The children also paused with alarm from listlessly playing on the floor.

Anna got up and went to meet him.

Schwarzenegger gazed down at him with concern through his dark sunglasses. The Terminator. If only Sebastian had been like him. Cool. Tough. A machine without the ability to feel.

Sebastian stared up at the poster as he lay on his bed. He could still hear Rune's voice, his phoney voice of concern. That tone of smarmy, feigned caring. The only thing he actually worried about was what people would say about him. What was it he had said?

'I've heard some terrible accusations made against Kaj. I have a hard time believing that it's anything but pure slander, but I still have to ask the question: did he on any occasion behave in an inappropriate manner towards you or any of the other boys? Peeked at you in the shower, or anything like that?'

Sebastian had laughed to himself at Rune's naïveté. 'Peeked at you in the shower…' That wouldn't have been so bad. It was the other thing that he couldn't live with. Not now, when everything was going to come out. He had an idea how things like that worked. They took their pictures and saved them and traded them, but no matter how well they hid them, they would all come out now.

It wouldn't take more than a morning, then it would be all over the school. The girls would stare at him, pointing and giggling. The boys would make jokes about queers and make stupid hand gestures as he walked by. Nobody would have the slightest sympathy for him. No one would see how big the hole in his chest was.

He turned his head a bit to the left and looked at the poster of Clint as Dirty Harry. He should have had a pistol like that. Or even better, a submachine gun. Then he could have done it the way those guys in the States did it. Run into the school in a long black coat and mow down everyone he saw. Especially the cool ones, who were going to treat him the worst. But he knew that it was nothing but a crazy idea. It wasn't in his nature to hurt anyone. It wasn't their fault, really. He had only himself to blame, and it was only himself he wanted to hurt. He could have put a stop to it, of course. Hadn't he ever said no? Not in so many words. Somehow he'd hoped that Kaj would see how it troubled him, how much he was hurting him, and stop of his own accord.

Everything had been so complicated. Because a part of him had liked Kaj. He'd been great, and at first Sebastian had got that fatherly feeling from him. The feeling he never got from Rune. He'd been able to talk to Kaj. About school, about girls, about Mamma and about Rune, and Kaj had put his arm round him and listened. It was only after a while that things had got so screwed up.

It was quiet in the house. Rune had gone off to work, pleased that he'd confirmed what he already thought he knew, that all the accusations against Kaj were utterly groundless. He would probably sit in the lunchroom and loudly complain about how the police made unfounded accusations.

Sebastian got up from the bed and prepared to leave. He stopped in the doorway and turned round. He looked at each and every one of them and gave them a curt nod, as if in greeting. Clint, Sly, Arnold, Jean-Claude and Dolph. The ones who were everything he was not.

For a moment he thought he saw them nod back.

The adrenaline was still pumping after the encounter with his lather, and Niclas felt sufficiently belligerent to take on the next person with whom he had a score to settle.

He drove down Galärbacken and stopped short when he saw that Jeanette was in her shop, busily preparing to stay open on All Saints' Day. He parked the car and went inside. For the first time since they'd met he felt no tingle in his loins when he saw her. He felt only a sour, metallic distaste, both for himself and for her.

'What the hell do you think you're doing?'

Jeanette turned round and gave Niclas a cold look when he slammed the door behind him, making the 'Open' sign flutter.

'I don't know what you're talking about.' She turned her back to him and continued unpacking a box of knick-knacks to price and put up on the shelves.

'You certainly do. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You've been to the police and told them some cops-and-robbers story about how I forced you to lie and give me an alibi. How fucking low can you sink? Is it revenge you're after, or do you just enjoy making trouble? What the hell were you thinking? I lost my daughter a week ago. Can't you understand that I don't want to keep going behind my wife's back anymore?'

'You promised me,' said Jeanette with flashing eyes. 'You promised that we'd be together, that you'd divorce Charlotte, that we'd have kids together. You promised me a hell of a lot, Niclas.'

'So, why the fuck do you think I did that? Because you loved hearing it. Because you willingly spread your legs when you heard those promises about a ring and a future. Because I wanted to have a little fun with you in bed once in a while. I can't believe you're so fucking dumb that you believed me. You know the game as well as I do. You've had your share of married men before, I'm sure,' he said rudely, watching her flinch at each word, as if he'd slapped her. But he didn't care. He'd already crossed the line and had no desire to show a sensitive side or spare her feelings. Now only the pure, unadulterated truth was appropriate, and after what she'd done, she deserved to hear it.