‘A Christmas present from Haakon to you. We’re not really supposed to hand over anything until all the tests have been completed, but I thought …’

Elise looked from the package up at the young policewoman, taller than her, with blonde, boyishly cropped hair.

‘I lost my husband last year,’ the stranger said. ‘Nine days before Christmas Eve. So I thought …’

She swallowed and forced out a smile.

‘Haakon was actually knocked down. We’re not making it public yet, but it won’t be long till we do. I shouldn’t really tell you this, but we now know that it was Arnulf Selhus who was driving the car. We’ve yet to find out whether he had planned the accident.’

‘Nine days before Christmas? Did your husband die nine days before Christmas Eve?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then it was exactly a year ago today.’

‘Yes.’

She lowered her eyes. Spoke to the floor.

‘I still don’t know all the details of his death. Secret service.’

Yet another smile, almost a grimace.

‘So I thought you’d want to know as soon as possible. And to have this.’

‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure,’ said the officer, with a brief nod as she exited through the door that slid shut behind her by itself.

Elise opened the card.

To wonderful Elise from hopeless Haakon, with a promise to be a better husband and father. At least to be around more. Love you. PS: Sorry the cellophane is broken! I wanted to show you I could actually set it up all by myself. Your darling Haakon.

She walked slowly into the living room. Sat down on the big grey settee with the pale-pink cushions and opened her Christmas present. It was an iPhone X, exactly what she had wanted. Switched off, but fully charged, and with a red paper heart stuck on either side of the box to replace the broken seals.

Tears began to trickle down her face, but at the same time she picked up her old mobile from the wooden tray on the footstool and tapped in her sister’s number.

She wanted William to come home at once.

SUNDAY 17 DECEMBER 2017

It was now the third Sunday in Advent.

One week left until Christmas Eve, and Selma Falck had bought a little plastic tree for 199 kroner at the Clas Ohlson store. Complete with twinkling lights, it stood on a circular mat that concealed an unsightly stain on the laminate beneath the window.

Einar Falsen sat on a red settee from the sixties, looking around, with a bag of cheese puffs in his left hand. Darius was curled up contentedly in his lap.

‘It’s really cosy here, Mariska. I could even think of living here, you know.’

‘I’ll soon be on the move,’ she said, smiling, as she sat down beside him and handed him a glass of cola. ‘I can see if you can take over the place.’