for sure. First I'll ring your chief, then I'll go to the newspapers if I have to and -'
Gosta interrupted her harangue and said with steel in his voice, 'No one is planning to drop the matter, Lilian, but right now this is what we're going to do: first we'll talk to Kaj, and then we'll take care of the formalities. If you have any objections, you're quite welcome to ring our chief, Bertil Mellberg, at the station and present your complaints. Otherwise we'll come back as soon as we've talked to the accused.'
After a brief internal struggle Lilian looked ready to accept that it was time to back off. 'Well, if that's how it has to be, then I guess I'll go and ring Eva. But I'm counting on you to come back in a little while,' she muttered sullenly. Then she couldn't resist one last demonstrative act: she slammed the door behind them so hard that it echoed through the whole neighbourhood.
'What do you think about all this?' said Patrik, who still couldn't believe that Gosta of all people had succeeded in exercising his authority.
'I don't know, but I…' said Gosta, mulling over his words. Something doesn't feel quite… right.'
'I agree, that's what I think too. Has Kaj ever resorted to violence during all these years of quarrelling?'
'No, and if he had, we would have had a talk about it at once, believe me. On the other hand, he's never had a blatant charge of murder flung in his face before.'
'You're right about that,' replied Patrik. 'But he just doesn't seem like the type that would resort to violence, if you know what I mean. He's more like someone who would try to trip her up if he had the chance.'
'Yeah, I'm inclined to agree with you. But first we'll have to see what he says.'
'I suppose we will,' said Patrik and knocked on the door.
STROMSTAD 1924
The minute her father walked in the door, a cold hand gripped Agnes's heart. Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong. August looked as though he'd aged twenty years since she'd seen him last, and she instantly understood that she must be dying. That was the only thing that could have caused such deep furrows on her father's face in such a short time.
She clutched at her chest and steeled herself for what she was about to hear. But there was something that didn't really fit. The sorrow she expected to see in her father's eyes was conspicuous by its absence; instead they were black with rage. It was a strange response, to say the least. Why would he be angry that she was dying?
Despite his short stature he loomed with an air of menace by the side of the bed where she lay, and Agnes instinctively did her utmost to look as pitiful as possible. That had always worked best on the few occasions her father had been really angry at her. But it didn't seem to be working this time, and her sense of disquiet grew. Then a thought occurred to her. But it was so unbelievable and appalling that she instantly cast it aside.
But the thought returned, without mercy. Then she saw that her father's lips were moving in an attempt to speak, but he was so upset that his vocal cords were unable to produce a sound. That was when she realized in terror that what had been simply a wild speculation was now a distinct possibility.
Slowly she crept even further under the covers. When her father's hand suddenly came down forcefully on her cheek and she felt the sting of unexpected pain, her misgivings changed to certainty.
'You, you…' stammered her father, desperately searching for the words that were trying to issue from his lips. 'You, you slut! Who… what?' he continued stammering. From her recumbent position she saw him swallow repeatedly, as if trying to help the words come out. She had never seen her stout, good-natured father like this before, and she found the sight terrifying.
Agnes also felt bewilderment grip her in the midst of her fear. How could this have happened? They had taken the necessary precautions and always stopped in time. In her worst fantasies she had never imagined that she would end up in trouble. Of course she had heard of other girls who got pregnant by accident, but she had always thought scornfully that they must not have been careful enough. They must have let the man go further than he should.
And now here she lay. Her thoughts wandered feverishly in search of a solution. Things had always worked out for her. Surely this situation could be resolved too. She had to make her father understand, as she had always been able to do whenever she had got herself into a mess. Of course it had never been anything this serious, but all her life he had come to her rescue and smoothed the way for her. He would have to do the same now. She felt herself growing calmer after the first shock subsided. Naturally the situation could be handled. Father would be angry for a while, she could stand that, but he would help her out of this predicament. There were places one could go to have something like this fixed, it was merely a matter of money, and at least in that respect she didn't have to worry.
Pleased at having worked out a plan, she opened her mouth to speak and begin cajoling her father. But her words were checked before she could even begin when August's hand again landed on her cheek with a smack. She gazed at him incredulously. She had never imagined that he would take his hand to her, and now he had slapped her twice in short order. The unfairness of his treatment ignited a rage inside her, and she sat up in bed and again opened her mouth to try and explain. Smack! A third slap struck her already tender cheek, and Agnes felt angry tears filling her eyes. What was the meaning of treating her like this? In resignation she sank back on the pillows and stared in both confusion and anger at this father she thought she knew so well. But the man before her was a stranger.
Slowly it began to dawn on Agnes that her life might be about to take a nasty turn.
A cautious knock on the door made Niclas look up. He wasn't expecting a patient, and he was fully occupied going through all the papers that had piled up on his desk. He frowned in annoyance.
'Yes?' His tone was dismissive, and the person outside the door seemed to hesitate. But then the door handle was pressed down and the door slowly swung open.
'Am I interrupting?'
Her voice was just as timorous as he remembered it, and the annoyed frown disappeared at once.
'Mother?' Niclas jumped out of his chair and stared in wonderment at the little woman standing hesitantly in the doorway. She had always aroused his protective instincts, and right now he just wanted to rush over and throw his arms around her. But he knew that she had grown wary of such open displays of emotion over the years. It would only upset her, so he restrained himself and waited for her to take the initiative.
'May I come in? Or are you busy?' She glanced at the piles of papers in front of him and made a move to turn round.
'No, absolutely not, come in, come in.' He felt like a schoolboy and rushed round the desk to pull up a chair for her. She sat down carefully, on the very edge of the seat, and looked around nervously. She had never seen him in his professional role, so he understood that it must seem odd to find him in this environment. In fact, she had hardly seen him at all in years, so that alone must feel strange. As if he had metamorphosed from a seventeen-year-old boy to a grown man in an instant. That thought made anger begin to swell in his chest. There was so much they had denied themselves, he and his mother, because of that nasty old
