starting to get tired, and if we take a stroll she'll probably fall asleep in the pram.'
'A short one, then,' Dan muttered. 'It's pretty chilly out there, and I was looking forward to getting inside where it's warm.'
'Just until she goes to sleep,' Erica cajoled her friend, and he reluctantly put his shoes back on.
She kept her promise. Ten minutes later they were back inside and Maja was sleeping peacefully under the rain hood of the pram.
'Have you got a baby alarm?' Dan asked.
Erica shook her head. 'No, I'll have to look in on her from time to time.'
'You should have said something. I could have tried to dig up our old one.'
'I hope you'll be coming over more often now,' said Erica, 'so you can bring it next time.'
'All right. I'm sorry for taking so long to come over and say hi,' he said. 'But I know how the first few months are, so I -'
'You don't have to apologize,' said Erica. 'You're completely right. I haven't felt ready to have visitors until now.'
They sat down on the sofa. Erica had set out coffee and buns that were warm from the oven. Dan helped himself.
'Mmm,' he said. 'Did you bake these?' He couldn't help a hint of amazement from creeping into his voice.
Erica gave him a dirty look. 'If that were the case, you wouldn't sound so surprised. But no, it wasn't me. My mother-in-law baked them when she was here,' she had to admit.
'I thought it must be something like that. These aren't burnt enough to be yours,' Dan teased her.
Erica couldn't come up with a witty retort. He was right. She had never been much of a baker.
After a pleasant chat that enabled them to get caught up with what had been happening in their lives lately. Erica stood up.
'I just have to go check on Maja.'
She cautiously cracked open the front door and looked down into the pram. That's funny, Maja must have slid down under the covers. She detached the rain hood as quietly as she could and pulled back the blanket. Panic struck her full-force. Maja wasn't in the pram!
Martin's spine creaked as he sat down, and he stretched his arms above his head to straighten out his vertebrae. All that lugging of cartons and moving of furniture had made him feel like an old man. Suddenly he realized that a few hours at the gym occasionally might be a good idea, but it was too late to make up for lost time now. Anyway, Pia always said she liked his lanky body, so he saw no reason to make any changes. But his back did hurt like hell.
The new place had turned out fine, he had to admit. Pia was the one who decided where to put everything, and the result was much better than anything he'd ever been able to come up with in his bachelor flats. He just wished he could have kept a few more of his own things. Only his stereo, TV and a 'Billy' bookshelf from IKEA had passed muster. The rest of his possessions had been sent off to the dump without mercy. He was saddest to part with the old leather sofa he'd had in his living room. He agreed that it had probably seen better days, but the memories… ah, what memories.
On second thought that might be precisely the reason that Pia had been so firm about tossing it in favour of a 'Tomelilla' model from IKEA. He'd actually been allowed to keep an old pine kitchen table, but Pia had quickly bought a tablecloth to cover every inch of its surface.
Well, those were only tiny bits of sand in the machinery. So far there hadn't been anything negative about living together. He loved coming home to Pia every evening, cuddling up with her on the sofa and watching something worthless on TV with Pia's head in his lap. And he loved slipping into the new double bed and falling asleep together. Everything was just as wonderful as he'd dreamt it would be. He knew that he probably ought to be sad that the wild partying of his bachelor days was over, at least that's what some of his mates said, but he didn't miss it any more than he missed a huge hangover. And Pia, well, she was simply perfect.
Martin wiped the foolish newly-in-love smile off his face and looked up the Florin family's number to phone them. He hoped it wouldn't be that terrible harpy who answered. Charlotte's mother reminded him of a caricature of a mother-in-law.
He was in luck. Charlotte herself answered. He felt a pang of sympathy when he heard how listless her voice sounded.
'Yes, hello, this is Martin Molin from Tanumshede police station.'
'What's this about?' Charlotte asked cautiously.
Martin was well aware that a call from the police aroused both misgivings and hopes, so he hastened to say, 'Well, I just wanted to check on something with you. We got a tip that somebody threatened Sara the day before she…' he stammered, 'died.'
'Threatened her?' said Charlotte, and he could almost see her puzzled expression. 'Who said that? Sara didn't tell us anything about it.'
'Her playmate, Frida.'
'But why didn't Frida say anything about it before now?'
'Sara made her promise not to say anything. Frida said it was a secret.'
'But who would threaten her?' Only now did Charlotte perk up enough to ask the relevant question.
'Frida didn't know who he was. But she described the man as older with grey hair and black clothes. And he apparently called Sara 'the Devil's spawn'. Does any of this ring a bell?'
'It certainly does,' said Charlotte through clenched teeth. 'It most certainly does.'
The pain had intensified over the past few days. It felt like a hungry animal tearing at his stomach with its claws.
Stig turned carefully onto his side. No position was really comfortable. No matter how he lay, it hurt somewhere. But it hurt most of all in his heart. He was thinking about Sara more often. About the way they'd had long, serious talks about everything under the sun. School, friends, her precocious meditations on everything that went on around her. He didn't believe the others had ever taken the time to see that side of her. They had focused only on her awkward, loud, and troublesome traits. And Sara had reacted to their image of her by becoming even more difficult, making even more noise, and smashing things. A vicious circle of frustration that none of them knew how to handle.
But in the hours she spent with him she had found peace. He missed her so much it hurt. He had seen so much of Lilian in her. Lilian's strength and decisiveness. Her brusque manner that concealed such enormous concern and love.
As if she could read his mind, Lilian came into the room. Stig had been so deeply immersed in his reverie that he didn't even hear her footsteps on the stairs.
'Here's a little lunch for you. I was out buying some fresh rolls,' she chirped, and he felt his stomach turn over at the mere sight of what was on the tray.
'I'm not that hungry right now,' he attempted, but at the same time he knew how fruitless any protests would be.
'You have to eat something if you want to get better,' said Lilian in her stern nurse's voice. 'Here, I'll help you.'
She sat down on the edge of the bed and took a bowl of kefir from the tray. She carefully raised a spoon and moved it to his lips. He reluctantly opened his mouth and let her feed him. The feeling of kefir running down his throat nauseated him, but he let her have her way. She meant well, and basically he knew she was right. If he didn't eat he'd never be healthy.
'How do you feel now?' Lilian asked as she took one of the rolls with butter and
