These summer days never end: the nights glow like mother-of-pearl until dawn.
The National Police Board is having a party for employees near Drottningholm Palace.
Joona Linna sits with his colleagues at a long table beneath a big tree.
In front of a Falun-red dance platform, a band dressed in white suits is playing the traditional Swedish folk song “Hårgalåten.”
Petter Näslund is dancing the slängpolska with Fatima Zanjani from Iraq. He’s saying something and laughter lights up her face. Whatever he’s saying, he seems to be making Fatima very happy.
The song is about a time when the Devil came to play the violin. He played so well that the young people never wanted to stop dancing. Finally they were so exhausted, they started to weep. Their shoes wore out, their feet wore out, and soon only their heads were left hopping to the Devil’s music.
Anja is nearby on a camp chair. She wears a flower-patterned blue dress and stares morosely at the dancing couples. However, when she sees Joona get up from the table, her round face flushes.
“Happy summer, Anja,” he says.
Saga Bauer is dancing over the grass between the trees. She’s chasing soap bubbles with Magdalena Ronander’s twins. Her flowing blond hair with its entwined coloured ribbons shines in the sun. Two middle-aged women pause to admire her.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” says the leader of the band after the applause dies down. “We have a special request.”
Carlos Eliasson smiles and looks at someone behind the stage.
The singer smiles. “I have my roots in Oulu, and I am going to sing a special Finnish song for you. It’s a tango called ‘Satumaa.’?”
Magdalena Ronander is wearing a wreath of flowers in her hair as she heads towards Joona and tries to catch his eye. Anja stares at her feet. The band starts playing the tango.
Joona has already turned to Anja and he bows slightly. He asks quietly, “May I have the honour?”
Anja’s face, and even her neck, blushes bright red. She looks up at him and nods seriously.
“Yes, yes you may.”
She puts her fingers on Joona’s arm and throws a proud glance at Magdalena. She steps onto the dance platform with her head high.
Anja concentrates on her steps at first, a furrow on her brow, but soon she relaxes and her face is calm and happy. She had fashioned an elaborate arrangement of her hair on the back of her neck, even sprayed it heavily to keep it in place, but now it looks just right. She follows Joona’s lead, and her steps become lighter and lighter.
As the sentimental song nears its end, Joona feels a nip on his shoulder, which doesn’t hurt.
Anja gives him another nip, a bit harder, and he feels forced to ask, “What are you doing?”
Her eyes are shining brightly like glass.
“I just felt like it,” she says honestly. “I wanted to see what would happen. You never know unless you try …”
At that moment, the music ends. Joona releases her and thanks her for the dance. Before he can escort her away, Carlos hurries over and asks Anja for the next dance.
Joona steps to one side and watches his colleagues dance, and others, dressed in summer white, gather on picnic blankets, eating and drinking happily. He decides to head to his car.
Reaching the car park, Joona Linna opens the door to his Volvo. In the backseat, there’s a huge bouquet waiting, wrapped in gift paper. Joona climbs into the car and phones Disa. The call goes to voice mail.