ELLEN

9.30 P.M.

Suddenly, there was a ringing sound. It took a few seconds before she understood that it was the entry phone, and she had to pull herself together before she buzzed up the lift.

‘How are you?’ Philip looked at her seriously as he came into the apartment.

‘Fine. And you?’ She turned away. ‘Did you bring the food with you?’

‘Ellen.’ He took hold of her arm and pulled her to him. Hugged her hard for a long time.

After a while, she released herself. ‘Come on, let’s eat in the bay window.’

As Ellen got out silverware, she saw Philip looking at the wall, but he didn’t say anything, and she was grateful for that.

They ate their kebabs and talked about all sorts of things.

It was wonderful to listen to Philip’s stories from Paradise Hotel and other work trips. Philip stuffed in the last of the kebab and had both hot and mild sauce around his mouth.

Full and content, they looked out over the lukewarm night. The evening breeze had pulled in over Skeppsbron.

‘Tropical heat.’

‘Mm,’ said Ellen, swiping one of his organic cigarettes. ‘You know that these are even stronger than menthol,’ she said, lighting the smoke.

‘Oh, lay off, at least there aren’t any toxins in these. How nice that you’re wearing the necklace,’ he said, taking the water lily in his hand before letting it fall back again.

Philip looked around the room. ‘Maybe you should reupholster the couch. Something colourful. For a fresh start. It’s too black and white in here, it could do with a little livening up. A hot-pink couch would be elegant.’

Ellen breathed in the smoke, and it tore at her throat. ‘Speaking of pink,’ she said, ‘this morning, when I was about to get in the car …’

‘The Pink Mist.’

Philip called her car ‘Pink Mist’, the term for blood spray after someone has been shot in the head. He thought it was macabre the way she was constantly drawn towards murder, and then drove around in blood spray to boot. In reality, she had bought it to honour her sister, or to defy her family. Pink was Elsa’s colour.

She told him about the tyres.

‘What the hell, Ellen? Can I please have a taste of your drink now, and don’t say anything about me quitting. I don’t like this. Who did this to you? Did you report it to the police?’

‘No, I can’t do that, then I definitely won’t be allowed to work, and Mum will have a fainting fit.’

‘Don’t be foolish now. How do you manage to get into these situations? How worried do I have to be?’ He’d almost finished her drink. ‘Did someone on the island do it?’

Ellen coughed from the smoke. ‘Wouldn’t think so. All they do there is fuck, eat, and harvest.’

Philip laughed. ‘My God, how judgemental. You’re worse than me.’

‘No, quite the contrary. It’d be liberating. I wish I could live like that. Why would one of them want to destroy my tyres? By the way, do you know who stopped by last night?’

Philip shook his head.

‘Didrik.’

‘Didrik.’ He spat out the vodka. ‘Didrik Schlaug?’

Ellen nodded. All three of them had been at Lundsberg; Philip knew very well who he was.

‘Did he finally get laid? What did your mother say?’

‘About us sleeping together? She doesn’t know anything about it, regardless of whether we did or not, she doesn’t know anything about the tyres, either, and it’s going to stay that way.’ She fixed a look on Philip, who had a bad habit of gossiping to her mother. Ellen knew it was because he cared about her, and deep down she appreciated it more than anything else. She didn’t know what she would have done without him.

‘I’ve never known anyone to be so smitten with someone as Didrik was with you. He would do absolutely anything for you. Like, more than Romeo did for Juliet.’

She laughed. ‘Was that the best example you could think of?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay, yes, but with the single exception that I’m not Juliet, and his feelings are never going to be reciprocated.’ She shuddered just at the thought.

‘Poor guy,’ Philip said with a sigh. ‘Remember when he gave you that gold heart that was divided in the middle, and he’d engraved your name and his on it?’

Ellen nodded. ‘Yes, ugh, yes. And when he bashed in the door to the bathroom because I wasn’t chosen for the school team … Jesus, I don’t even remember what sport it was. Do you want another one?’

‘Yes, I don’t think it’s as bad with vodka.’

She laughed and got up to mix two new drinks.

‘We’re out of ice, so these will be piss-warm drinks.’ She handed one to Philip.

They leant back in the bay window and sipped the drinks.

‘I thought I heard something last night. It sounded like motorbikes. I don’t know, I was probably dreaming. Dr Hiralgo wants me to write down all my dreams.’

‘I can interpret dreams.’ His eyes lit up. ‘Mia in Make-up has taken courses in dream interpretation and knows all that stuff about tarot cards, and she’s taught me a lot. Wait, I’ll get the book from my bag.’

He was back quickly. ‘Now, wait. Which letter comes before M again? Damn, you can never really learn it. Here it is. MOTORCYCLE. Okay, listen. You are driving yourself or sitting on the back of a motorcycle that is rushing along on curving roads. The dream is erotically tinged, and both the motorcycle and the speed are symbols of sexual experience. Ha, so you did sleep with Didrik?’

‘No, and I didn’t dream that I was riding a motorbike.’

‘You were dreaming about Jimmy. How was it seeing him today?’ He closed the book.

She thought for a moment about how to put it. ‘You know, I think that Jimmy can make fire with his bare fingers.’

‘What? Wait, say that again, I’ll just get out my phone.’ Philip was about to fall out of the bay window with laughter. ‘You don’t know how good that sounded. Say that again and I’ll film it.’

‘Come on, you know what I mean.’

‘No, how would I? No more vodka for you.’

She laughed too.

After a while he grew serious. ‘You are just as smitten with Jimmy as Didrik is with you. A burnt child dreads the fire. Or, a burnt child should dread the fire. Stay away from him, Ellen. Promise me that.’