‘But you’ve got this.’ She threw her arms wide. ‘You bought this, didn’t you? Wasn’t this what you were longing for?’

  Valdemar leant back. ‘Well, yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, damn it, it is. But you get greedy, don’t you? You want more.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  He thought some more. ‘I don’t want to leave here, Anna. That’s the trouble. Only being here on weekdays just doesn’t feel enough.’

  A few seconds passed in silence.

  ‘How are things with you and your family?’

  ‘Not good,’ said Valdemar with a shake of the head. ‘I expect you’d already worked that out. The girls couldn’t care less about me. Alice is tired of me and I can completely understand that, but . . .’

  ‘But?’

  He gave a laugh. ‘Little Anna, I really have no idea why I’m sitting here complaining to you. I’m almost forty years older than you, but you’re the one who started it. It’s as if . . . well, as if you’re the one drawing it out of me.’

  She gave a smile. ‘Maybe I ought to be a psychologist or something.’

  ‘Why not? You seem to have the knack.’

  She considered this. ‘Well, it does tend to be other people coming to me with their problems. Not the other way round, though it probably oughtn’t to be that way.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I feel as if I’ve spent so much time listening to friends who were unhappy.’

  ‘Is that so?’ said Valdemar. ‘Well it’s important not to mislay your instruction manual to life, that’s what my grandad always used to say. Do you know what happened to me on the way here?’ He brought out his mobile and glared at it. ‘What do you think of this?’

  It took him a while to locate the message but once he had, he passed it over. She took it and read the words on the screen. First with expectant curiosity on her face, but then her smile evaporated. She clapped her hand to her mouth and stared at him.

  ‘What is it?’ said Valdemar.

  She shook her head and looked at the display again. ‘This . . .’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘This isn’t to you, Valdemar. I think . . .’

  ‘Isn’t to me?’

  ‘No, but I don’t understand, how . . .?’ She stood up and began pacing the floor. ‘I don’t see how he can have got . . .? Wait a minute, there must be a sender number.’

  She grabbed the mobile phone and pressed a few keys, staring at the screen. ‘Yes, there it is! Fuck, it’s him. How the hell . . .?’

  She trailed off and stood there, mouth half open, a mixture of bewilderment and concentration in her eyes. Tiny pupils trying to bore their way to some kind of coherent whole. Valdemar, watching her, saw that she was holding her breath.

  ‘That must be it,’ she said in the end.

  ‘Would you mind telling me what the heck is going on?’ said Valdemar.

  ‘Soon,’ said Anna. ‘Soon, I promise. Is it all right if I just ring my mother first?’

  ‘Yes of course, give it a try. But remember how patchy it is. I’m not sure how you got through last time.’

  She started tapping in the number and Valdemar got to his feet. ‘I’ll go in the other room while you ring.’

  She nodded and put the phone to her ear. ‘Shit! No reception.’

  Valdemar turned in the doorway. ‘Damn.’

  She bit her lip and he suddenly realized she was close to tears – for some reason which he didn’t understand, but which he hoped she would explain to him in due course. What he would have liked most of all was to give her a hug, to simply hold her for a little while – that was his first impulse, but he realized it didn’t lie in the realm of possibility.

  That boundary line again.

  ‘You can try going a little way up the hill,’ he said. ‘You know, back along the road a hundred metres or so, and then left at the timber piles. I’ve rung from up there a few times.’

  She nodded again. ‘I’ll just call her, and then she’ll call me back.’

  ‘No need to do that,’ said Valdemar, and then she was out of the door and gone.

  It was almost half an hour before she got back. He spent the time stretched out on the bed, looking at the walls and trying to enjoy the fact that they were newly painted. With scant success, but it was nothing to do with the paint colour or the workmanship. Of course not.

  What’s happened? he wondered. What in God’s name did that message mean?

  She’d said it was sent to her. It was Anna who had been hiding from someone called S, and she was the one who could expect a visit. She had known it instantly.

  But it wasn’t a source of pleasure to her. Quite the opposite; her reaction had made that abundantly clear. The text message had scared her, there was no doubt about it. She had no wish to see this S.

  The good days are over now, thought Valdemar Roos, and he wondered why that particular phrase had decided to lodge in his brain. The good days are over now.

  Not even a week had gone by.

  But that was typical, of course. One hadn’t the right to expect much.

  ‘His name’s Steffo,’ she said as she came into the living room.

  He sat up and swivelled his legs over the edge of the bed. ‘Steffo?’

  ‘Yes. He was my boyfriend.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘He got the number from my dopey mum.’

  ‘My mobile number? How did that happen?’

  She sank down at the table and put her head in her hands.

  ‘I called her from your mobile before, didn’t I? Then he called her and asked where he could get hold of me. And my idiot mother gave him the number.’

  ‘And you didn’t want—’

  ‘No way!’ said Anna. ‘He’s crazy. I’m scared stiff of him. He thinks . . . no.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘He thinks he owns me, just cos we were together for a few months.’

  ‘But you broke it off with him.’

  She sighed and bit her lip. ‘Sort of,’ she said. ‘Yes, I did, of course. When I went into that residential centre I broke off all contact with him, he must realize it’s over. But . . .’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘But he’s so fucking evil. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. But getting together with Steffo was the worst one ever.’

  She clasped her hands on her lap and for a moment he thought she was praying.

  ‘Well, you’ll just have to tell him.’

  ‘Tell him what?’

  ‘Tell him you don’t want anything more to do with him.’

  She shook her head. ‘You don’t understand,’ she said.

  ‘Oh?’ said Valdemar.

  ‘Steffo thinks you can own people the way you own things. And his message said he’s coming here.’

  Valdemar gave a laugh. ‘Here? But how on earth would he find his way here?’

  Anna looked at him doubtfully, chewing her knuckle. ‘I don’t know if he’d really be able to,’ she said, ‘but my mother gave him the name, too.’

  ‘What name?’

  ‘The name of this place. Lograna. I’d told her I was somewhere called Lograna – I don’t know why I did that. Because she asked and I wanted to reassure her, I suppose. She was really shaken when I told her I’d run away. But basically it means Steffo knows I’m at a place called Lograna.’

  Valdemar pondered this for a moment. ‘Hang on though,’ he said. ‘I don’t think the name Lograna would be on any maps, would it?’

  ‘That’s what I’m not sure about,’ said Anna. ‘Have you ever tried doing an internet search for it?’

  ‘No,’ said Valdemar.

  ‘It might come up,’ said Anna. ‘And then he’d be able to find his way here. I’ve got to get away, Valdemar.’

  ‘Now just you wait a minute,’ said Valdemar. ‘Let’s put the coffee on and talk this over.’

  ‘What is there to talk about?’

  ‘Plenty. You can’t carry on running away from this Steffo, surely you can see that?’ He paused and reflected. ‘I mean, what sort of life is that for you? He’s just got to get it into his head that you don’t want any more to do with him.’

  ‘I wish it was as simple as that,’ said Anna. ‘If all I had to do was tell him.’

  ‘Have you tried?’

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Not in so many words. Do you think we should answer his text?’

  Valdemar suddenly felt a sort of warm glow inside him, and he realized what had prompted it. She had used that little word we. Shall we answer his text?

  ‘We’ll put the coffee on and talk it over,’ he said again. ‘And I don’t really think he could find his way here. This place has been hidden from the world for a good few years. And I’ve no intention of letting you run off in a panic.’

  Anna nodded and they both went into the kitchen. ‘I’m so grateful that you exist,’ she said.

  Her eyes were glistening as she said it. He looked at the clock. It was already half past five; he wondered how long that women’s network meeting could be expected to last.

  22

  They decided against replying to the text.

  But if she asks me to stay, I will, he thought several times as they had their coffee, talked and shared a pipe. I don’t give a toss about the repercussions; I’ve got to behave like a moral human being. I can’t damn well leave a frightened kid out in the middle of the forest.

  If she asks me, that is.

  Expressly asks me.

  But she didn’t. Maybe she came close to it, he couldn’t really judge. Several times he thought he detected the question in her eyes, but it was never put into words. He made her promise to stay a couple more days, at least. She took some persuading, but in the end she agreed. Once he had said goodbye and climbed into the car, it struck him that she had only done it to avoid discussing the matter. Perhaps she would be gone when he returned the next morning?

  It was an almost unbearable thought. That was how it suddenly felt. Unbearable. What the devil is happening to me? thought Ante Valdemar Roos as he turned out onto the Rödmossen road. What’s become of my old life?

  He could see in his mind’s eye how it would be the next morning.

  He saw himself feel for the key in its hiding place, unlock the door, come into the newly painted and utterly empty house. Just a note on the table: I decided to go after all. Thank you Valdemar. Good luck with Lograna and everything else. Hugs from Anna.

  Christ almighty, he thought. It can’t turn out that way. Life can’t be that fucking awful. Not even mine.

  And the painted walls, which would forever remind him of those strange days they’d spent together.

  A week – it was the previous Monday he had discovered there was somebody living in the house, but it was only on the Wednesday she’d plucked up the courage to show herself.

  She had played the guitar and sung for him. No one else had ever done that for him, especially not a woman. He had cried and she had let him cry without asking questions.

  As tears go by.

  He shook his head and clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. He didn’t know why, but he found himself grasping the steering wheel more tightly too, and saw that his knuckles were turning white – and then his father popped up again.

  That walk in the forest. The tall, straight pines. The rocks and the clumps of lingonberry bushes. This is where we see the elk.

  Never better than this.

  I’m falling apart, thought Ante Valdemar Roos. I’m close to breaking down.

  She stayed at the window for a good while after he drove away. She was trying to find some approximation of a stable feeling amongst all those that were swirling round inside her. A centre of gravity.

  But nothing seemed in the mood to stabilize, everything just went on spinning and dancing like specks of dust in a ray of sunlight. It was only once she had sat down at the table again and poured herself another cup of coffee that she was able to hold on to anything concrete. It wasn’t much, but at least it could be put into words.

  The first thing was a question: What the hell shall I do?

  The second was an exhortation: Make up your mind, Anna Gambowska!

  The third was an old song: Should I stay or should I go?

  She couldn’t remember the name of the group, but it didn’t matter. That was just the way of things: whatever agonies you were suffering, whatever acts of folly or states of wretchedness you had got tangled up in, there was always some hackneyed pop song to match the occasion.

  But no wonder, really. Everything in music was about life and death and love, and when it came to the crunch in real life, it was as serious there, too. Just as serious and just as hackneyed.

  Should I stay or should I go?

  And go where, if she opted for the latter?

  It was the same old question. Though now it was suddenly so much worse, if Steffo really was on his way. Anything at all, she thought, I can bear anything at all except seeing Steffo right now.

  That, at any rate, was a feeling that felt pretty stable.

  The worst thing was that she could so easily imagine him tracking her down. He was that sort of person. He would relish it in his own perverse way. Go online, search for Lograna. Find it on the map, pack his rucksack with some beer and hash, hop on his scooter and set off.

  Stay or go?

  How far could it be from Örebro to Lograna? Two hundred kilometres? Three hundred, maybe? One thing was for sure, it wouldn’t be too far for Steffo once he’d set his pig-headed mind on it.

  If Steffo comes here then that’s the end for me, she thought. There are no two ways about it. I shall give up.

  She went outside and lit the pipe. It was already starting to get dark and the sky was covered in thick cloud, which helped the darkness come all the quicker, of course. Once she had taken a few puffs her conversation with Marja-Liisa came into her mind.

  It helped the darkness come all the quicker.

  Go, she thought. I daren’t stay another night.

  And if Valdemar had genuinely wanted her to stay, she asked herself, why had he left her? He must have realized she was scared. She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she knew this was what tipped the scale for her.

  He didn’t really want her to stay.

  And why should he? What was she imagining? She had painted the walls and done her share. Paid her debt of gratitude and now they were quits.

  So go it was.

  She swallowed down the lump in her throat and went indoors.

  And it was only a short while later, as she was in the living room packing her rucksack, that she looked out of the window and noticed two things.

  One was that it had started to rain.

  The other was that there was a scooter parked on the road, a short distance away.

  She hadn’t heard it. He must have freewheeled the last bit, she thought. That was typical of him, too.

  23

  He had just come through Rimmersdal when his mobile rang.

  He saw it was Alice and afterwards he really didn’t know what had made him answer at all.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I went out for a drive.’

  ‘Went out for a drive?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’ve never done that before, have you?’

  ‘I drive my car every day, Alice dear.’

  ‘But today’s Sunday. I want to talk to you, Valdemar.’

  ‘Oh yes? How was the Nymphs’ meeting?’

  ‘Interesting. To put it mildly.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Where are you? Are you alone in the car?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Are you alone in the car?’

  ‘Of course I’m alone. I’ll be back in quarter of an hour. I just went for a drive . . . well, out towards Kymmen, that’s all. What did you want to talk about?’

  She paused for a moment. He could hear her drinking something.

  ‘What were you doing on Friday, Valdemar?’

  ‘On Friday?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Nothing special, I don’t think.’

  ‘You didn’t go into town or anything?’

  ‘During the day?’

  ‘Yes, during the day.’

  ‘No. Why would I have done that?’

  ‘You didn’t go to Ljungman’s for lunch?’

  ‘Ljungman’s? No, of course not.’

  ‘That’s very odd. Because it so happens Karin Wissman saw you there. Can you explain that to me, Valdemar?’

  He thought for a moment.

  ‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Alice.’

  ‘Don’t you? And you had a young woman with you, Karin says. A very young woman.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard.’

  ‘This makes no sense, Alice. I simply don’t understand how she could have made that mis—’

  ‘She saw you from just a few metres away, Valdemar. You said hello to her. What the hell are you up to?’

  He removed the phone from his ear and contemplated the little gadget with distaste. Then he pressed the Dismiss key as hard as he could, tossed the phone into the glove compartment and pulled in at the side of the road.

  He switched off the engine and leant his head back on the headrest.

  So there we are, he thought, taking off his glasses. It’s come to this. Time to decide.

  And the first heavy raindrops landed on the bonnet.

  TWO

  24

  Detective Inspector Barbarotti was sitting at a poker table.

  A low-hanging lamp cast a sallow light over a green baize surface. A considerable pot made up of coins, counters and banknotes took pride of place in the middle of the table while cigar and cigarette smoke spiralled slowly up towards the ceiling, dissolving in the gloom above the lampshade. Quiet music, a silky female voice singing jazz, was issuing from invisible loudspeakers as he slowly, slowly slipped a third ace behind a ten and transformed two pairs into a full house.

  There were three of them playing. Apart from Barbarotti himself there were two other gentlemen, whose faces he could not really see because the confounded lamp was so low, but he was sure they were worthy, not to say superior, opponents.

  On the other hand: a full house with aces was not to be sniffed at. He scrabbled in his jacket pockets for extra money to add to the pot, but soon discovered that the only funds he had left were a few superannuated and worthless Polish złoty notes and a postage stamp of very dubious value. He could see that his opponents were aware of his awkward situation and before he could reach any kind of decision, one of them bowed his head into the circle of light and smiled a very sardonic smile, his cigar still in his mouth.