ELLEN

9.30 P.M.

Margareta was sitting at the kitchen table with the day’s newspaper open in front of her when Ellen came home.

‘How did it go today?’ she asked without looking up. ‘Terrible about this murder.’ She pointed at the story in the paper. ‘So close by. You’ve been gone a long time.’

‘Yeah, it turned out that way …’

After the visit to the library Ellen had driven aimlessly around Nyköping on a kind of memory tour. She passed house after house where her old friends had lived when they were little. Everything was the same, but now there was a new generation growing up. Everyone that Ellen knew had moved away long ago, and she hadn’t had contact with any of them except on Facebook. Most were married and had children. For her part, it felt as though she was still unpacking her bag from the school trip in ninth grade. She drove past the places where they’d hung out. Västra Storgatan and Teaterparken. She tried to remember things, but only unimportant details showed up in her head. She’d managed to write down a few key words on the pad she’d gotten from Dr Hiralgo, but probably nothing that meant anything. It was hard to write — she felt like she didn’t have the energy, didn’t know what she should focus on.

Stop repressing and putting a lid on everything. Dr Hiralgo’s words echoed in her head. But it felt laboured and forced. The only things she could dredge up from her memory were the names of her friends’ dogs and where their parents worked, home phone numbers of old classmates and their birthdays. She hardly knew when Jimmy’s birthday was, but she still recalled everything about the guy she’d had a crush on in middle school. The brain was peculiar. She tried to remember things from when Elsa was alive and the day she disappeared but didn’t even know where she should start. All routes felt tough and inaccessible, and she didn’t really want to set out on any of them.

‘I’m going to bed,’ said Margareta. ‘I think there’s a thunderstorm brewing. I have a headache and I have to get up early tomorrow — it’s that gardening course in Vreta I told you about.’

‘Okay.’ Ellen nodded, but couldn’t remember that they’d talked about it. ‘You truly have become one with nature,’ she said, pouring a glass of ice-cold water for herself and drinking it slowly.

Margareta smiled. ‘You express yourself like a teenager.’ She spoke quietly and quickly, as if it made her head hurt when sounds came out of her mouth. She got up from the chair by holding onto the back support.

She looks so old, thought Ellen, and suddenly it became so real that her mother wouldn’t always be there.

Margareta went over and patted Ellen on the cheek. ‘Good night, dear,’ she said, walking to the door.

‘Mum!’ Ellen called after her. ‘What did we have for dinner the day that Elsa disappeared?’

Margareta turned around and looked at Ellen dejectedly. ‘I don’t remember, we weren’t home that evening.’

‘But you must have given us something to eat before you left for the party?’

‘Yes, we must have. But I don’t remember. Why are you asking that?’

Ellen shrugged. ‘Dr Hiralgo just asked me to think about a few little things.’

‘That’s good …’ Margareta took a long look at her before she braced herself again. ‘I remember that you were angry — angry as a hornet — but you often were, Ellen. It was actually hard for all of us when you had those outbursts. It’s good that you’re thinking and reflecting.’ She nodded several times. ‘Good night, my dear. I hope we put an end to all this soon. Even if it’s going to cause pain for all of us.’

‘Good night,’ said Ellen, feeling the past fill every corner in the big house. It was easier to focus on telephone numbers and birthdays.

Then the first rumbling came.

Ellen liked thunder; she always had. Thunder was angrier than she was. It was lovely. She could rest in that fury. At Örelo the electrical discharges were usually greater than in other places. It was as if the thunder reached its peak over the island.

She went down into the wine cellar and searched for a long time among the bottles, finally picking the bottle with the ugliest label. On her way up, she called Philip. ‘I miss you,’ she said when he answered.

‘I miss you, too. How’s it going?’

‘It’s so cramped here.’

‘Ah yes, when I think Örelo, I think teeny-tiny.’ He laughed.

‘You know what I mean. Whatever I do, she’s there and asking where I’m going, what I’ll be doing, where I’ve been, and then she spikes the whole thing with some mean little comment, reminding me of how awful I was when I was little and how I still am. It’s too much. I get heartburn.’

‘Does it matter? Try to forget about it, even though obviously that’s easier said than done.’

‘It’s too much. She doesn’t want me here. It’s as if I disturb her entire existence and remind her of …’ She fell silent.

‘You’re going to manage fine, and to be quite honest, I think it’ll be good for you and Margareta, even if it doesn’t feel that way now. So, tell me about this Dr Hiralgo.’

‘He’s strange, or I don’t know, maybe strange isn’t the right word. You’d probably love him. He wants me to go through everything, take the whole thing from the beginning and then process it.’

‘Oh, I want to hear literally everything, but I have to go into make-up now, I’ll have to call you later.’

‘I think I’m afraid of remembering, Philip.’

‘Don’t be. What can happen? It’s like being afraid of ghosts. They can’t do anything to you. I think the guy is right. Processing the past is the only way to move on. Ellen, I love you, but I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you are a ticking little time bomb, and if you don’t deal with this now, you’re going to blow up something or someone, and you ought to be more afraid of that. In any case, that’s what I’m afraid of.’

They hung up, and a flash of lightning lit up the kitchen, closely followed by thunder.

Ellen closed the window. The rain hadn’t come yet, and because it was already dark out, it was hard to see how heavy the clouds were.

She lit a candle at the kitchen table and took out the bottle opener and an ordinary drinking glass. She didn’t have the energy to go into the dining room to get a crystal glass, and Mum would surely make a big fuss if she used one of them.

The time between the lightning flashes and the bang that followed got shorter. The thunderstorm was getting closer and closer.

One, two, three …

She was startled. Was someone knocking on the door?

The knock came again.

Who could it be? At this time of day?

More knocking.

Ellen checked the time and walked slowly to the door. First turned on the outside light, then unhooked the security chain, and then took a deep breath before she carefully opened the big oak door.