18
Sanna saved the longest fries until last.
‘Look,’ she said, holding one up in front of her.
‘Wow, that’s a long one,’ Mike said.
He glanced over quickly and then looked back at the road. He stayed in lane on the roundabout and out on to the motorway.
‘I’ve had longer ones,’ Sanna said, world weary. ‘One was super long.’
‘Longer than that?’ Mike exclaimed.
‘Much longer. Double as long.’
‘Really?’
‘Well, maybe not double.’
‘But very long?’
‘Yes.’
Sanna happily stuffed the fry in her mouth.
Mike wondered whether he should drive into town and ask his mother to look after Sanna for a couple of hours. That would leave him free to make phone calls and do some ferreting, and it would spare Sanna having to witness the scene when Ylva finally decided to pitch up. The problem would obviously be his mother’s questions and accusations. She and Ylva rubbed along well enough, but their friendliness was strained, and he didn’t want to upset the balance.
Mike should probably contact the police. Not because he thought it was necessary, but because Ylva deserved it. It made it seem more serious and reinforced the idea that he’d been taken in. The alternative, that he suspected her of being unfaithful without doing anything about it, was worse.
He decided to go home. It was more than likely that Ylva would be waiting for them there.
Mike managed to convince himself and took the northbound exit at Berga.
*
The front door was still locked and there were no new shoes in the hall. But Mike called anyway.
‘Hello?’
Sanna looked up at him.
‘Is Mummy still not home?’
Mike shook his head.
‘Where is she?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know.’
Mike didn’t reply.
‘Has she vanished?’
Sanna said it as a joke.
‘No, no, not vanished,’ Mike said, and forced a smile. ‘She’s somewhere. Obviously.’
‘But where is she then?’
‘Probably with a friend.’
He looked at his watch. Quarter to two.
‘I have to make some phone calls,’ he said.
‘You keep making phone calls all the time.’
‘I have to. You don’t want to go and play with a friend?’
‘Who?’
‘Klara, maybe?’
‘She’s not at home.’
‘What about Ivan?’
‘I want to wait for Mummy.’
‘Go and watch a film then, please. I’ll come through as soon as I’ve made my phone calls.’
Sanna sighed and disappeared.
Mike waited until he heard the sound of a film, then phoned Nour.
‘Who have you spoken to?’ he asked, when she explained that no one knew anything.
‘Pia and Helena,’ Nour said. ‘I don’t know who else to contact.’
Mike mustered his courage.
‘Could she be with that restaurant muppet?’
He forced a laugh when he said it, as if he wanted to joke away his only real question as something unthinkable.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I phoned him too, just to make sure. They haven’t met.’
Mike felt relieved even though he knew that that meant his wife was possibly being unfaithful with someone else.
‘What time did she leave you yesterday?’ Mike asked.
Nour took a deep breath and released it in a sigh.
‘I think it was quarter past six or thereabouts.’
‘So she would have been back by seven, if she’d come straight home,’ Mike calculated.
‘Yes, I guess.’
‘And she went down the hill?’
‘She said she was going home.’
‘I think I’d better call the police,’ Mike said.
Nour thought he sounded a bit embarrassed, almost as if he was asking her permission. She didn’t know what to say. Mike filled the silence himself.
‘I had a mate in Stockholm who pissed on the palace once. He’d been to Cafe Opera and was shambling along Skeppsbron when he had to take a leak. Which he did, not very carefully, by the fountain. The police kept him in overnight, he wasn’t even allowed to phone home. His girlfriend was waiting for him with the rolling pin, thought he’d been sleeping around.’
The story was irrelevant and his voice was forced, as if he was trying to convince himself. Mike was about to crack.
‘I mean, it might be something like that.’
Yes, Nour thought to herself, if Ylva was a man and there was a palace to piss on, it might.
‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘Of course it might. I think it’s best that you call the police.’
‘Just to be on the safe side,’ Mike said.
19
Ylva stared at the screen. Mike and Sanna were back, and the car was parked in front of the garage. Her beloved, patient and stubborn husband was sitting only a hundred metres away, wondering what had become of her. Ylva felt a physical longing to be there.
She pulled all the paper from the kitchen roll, let it fall in a pile on the floor. Then she took the empty roll and positioned herself on the bed. By directing the sound and shouting through the cardboard tube she hoped she could attract the attention of anyone passing. She waited in suspense, eyes on the TV screen.
When the first couple walked past, she shouted as loud as she could. Unfortunately a car drove past at the same time and drowned out what little noise she was able to make. The next person to pass was a jogger, with music in his ears, not worth the effort. Then an elderly couple who looked like they might stop, which made Ylva shout even more so that they’d realise that something was wrong. They actually stopped and looked at the house. Ylva was sure that they could hear her, without knowing where the sound was coming from, but they didn’t look
