plopped down on the sofa.
'I'm really sorry to be so late,' he said. Despite Erica's childish feelings earlier that day, her annoyance drained out of her at once.
'It doesn't matter,' she said. 'We managed fine, the two of us.' She was still euphoric at getting some brief moments to herself when Maja was sleeping in the pram in the workroom.
'No chance of watching a little hockey, is there?' Patrik cast a wistful glance at the TV without having noticed Erica's unusually good mood.
Erica just snorted in reply. What a dumb question.
'That's what I thought,' he said and stood up. 'I'm going to make myself a couple of sandwiches. Would you like some?'
She shook her head. 'I ate a while ago. But a cup of tea would be nice. She'll probably have had her fill soon.' As if Maja understood what Erica said, she let go and looked up in contentment. Erica gratefully straightened her clothes, set Maja in the bouncer, and went to join Patrik in the kitchen. He was at the stove stirring O'Boy cocoa powder into a saucepan of milk. She went to stand behind him, putting her arms round him to hug him tight.
It felt so good, and she realized how little physical contact they'd had since Maja was born. She was mostly to blame for that, she had to admit.
'How was your day?' she asked. That was something else she hadn't done in a long time.
'Terrible,' he said, taking butter, cheese and caviar out of the fridge.
'I heard that you brought Kaj in,' she said cautiously, unsure of how much Patrik would want to tell. She had decided not to say anything about the visits she'd had that day.
'The gossip has spread like wildfire, I presume?' said Patrik.
'You could say that.'
'So what are people saying?'
'That he must have had something to do with Sara's death. Is it true?'
'I don't know.' Patrik seemed tired as he poured the hot chocolate into a cup and fixed a couple of open sandwiches. He sat down facing Erica and began to dunk his cheese and caviar sandwich into the hot chocolate. After a while he went on, 'But we didn't bring him in because of Sara's murder. There was another reason.'
He fell silent again. Erica knew better than to pry, but she couldn't help asking. In her mind's eye she saw Charlotte's listless gaze.
'But is there anything to indicate that he may have had something to do with Sara's death?'
Patrik dunked another sandwich in the chocolate and Erica tried not to look. She thought this habit was barbaric, to say the least.
'Yeah, there might well be. But we'll have to wait and see. We can't take the risk of narrowing our focus. There's something else we have to look at too,' he said, avoiding her eyes.
She stopped asking questions. Some grunts of protest from the living room indicated that Maja was getting tired of sitting all alone. Patrik got up and brought in the bouncer with their daughter in it. She gurgled gratefully and waved her hands and feet when Patrik set her on the kitchen table. The weariness in his face vanished, and his eyes took on that special gleam reserved for his daughter.
'Is this Pappa's little sweetie? Did Pappa's little darling have a good day? Is she the sweetest girl in the whole world?' he babbled with his face close to Maja's. Then Maja's face contorted, turned bright red, and after a couple of groans there was a noise from the lower regions and a dense stink spread round the table. Erica got up automatically to deal with the situation.
'I'll get it, you just sit,' said Patrik, and Erica gratefully sank back onto the kitchen chair.
When Patrik came back with a newly changed Maja in her pyjamas, she told him with great enthusiasm about the successful pram trick and how she had got Maja to fall asleep.
Patrik looked sceptical. 'She cried for forty-five minutes before she fell asleep? Is she really supposed to do that? On TV they said that if they cry, you're supposed to give them the breast. Can it really be good for her to have to cry like that?'
His lack of enthusiasm and understanding made Erica furious. 'Obviously the point is not for her to cry for forty-five minutes. It'll taper off in a few days, and besides, if you don't think it's a good idea, then you can stay home and take care of her! You're not the one who has to sit here nursing all day long. That must be why you don't see any need to make any changes!'
Then she burst into tears and dashed upstairs to the bedroom. Patrik sat there at the kitchen table, feeling like an idiot. He should think before he opened his mouth.
FJALLBACKA 1928
Two days later her father came to Fjallbacka. She was sitting in the little room where she had found a temporary roof over her head, waiting with her hands folded in her lap. When he came in she reflected that the gossip had been right. He looked terrible. His hair had thinned even more on top. A couple of years earlier he'd been pleasantly plump, but now his figure was bordering on fat, and his breathing was erratic. His complexion was flushed bright red from the exertion, but just underneath was a grey tinge that refused to yield to the red. He didn't look well.
He hesitated at the threshold with an expression of disbelief when he saw how small and dark the room was, but when he caught sight of Agnes he rushed forward to give her a big hug. She didn't return the embrace, but kept her hands in her lap. He had betrayed her, and nothing could change that fact.
August tried to get a reaction out of her but then gave up and released her. And yet he couldn't help caressing her cheek. She flinched as if he'd slapped her.
'Agnes, Agnes, my poor Agnes.' He sat down on the chair next to her but refrained from touching her again. The sympathy on his face turned her stomach. It was too late for that now. Four years ago she had needed him, yearned for paternal care and concern. Now it made no difference.
She studiously avoided looking at him as he urgently spoke to her, his words occasionally catching in his throat.
'Agnes, I know that I was wrong and that nothing I can say will change that. But let me help you now that you're in such terrible straits. Come back home, and let me take care of you. Things can be like they were before, everything can be like before. What has happened is horrible, but together we can put it all behind you.'
His voice rose and sank in imploring waves that shattered against the hard shell of her heart. His words felt like a reproach.
'Dear Agnes, please come home. You can have anything you want.'
She saw out of the corner of her eye how his hands trembled, and his beseeching tone of voice gave her more satisfaction than she could have ever imagined. And she
She slowly turned to face him. August took this as a sign that she accepted his entreaties and eagerly tried to take her hands. Without expression she abruptly pulled her hands away.
'I'm leaving for America on Friday,' she said, enjoying the dismayed expression on August's face.
'A… aa… merica,' August stammered, and Agnes saw beads of sweat break out on his upper lip. Whatever he had expected, it wasn't this.
'Anders had bought tickets for all of us. He dreamt about a future for us there. I intend to honour his wish and go there myself,' she said dramatically, shifting her eyes away from her father to look out of the window. She knew that her profile was beautiful in the backlight, and her black clothing emphasized the pallor she had so carefully guarded.
People had been tiptoeing around her for two days. A small room had been put
