And Sandra had no intention of giving up. Now that she knew who he was, it was impossible to let him scurry away. Sandra didn’t want to be a weak parent who couldn’t stand up for her child anymore. Even if it wouldn’t be long before Erik understood that he was the result of a rape, both he and the world around them would understand that made him an even more welcomed child. He was assurance personified and would never have to doubt for a moment how loved he was. She intended to fight out this war for her son and for herself. For financial reasons, of course, but also in order to force Hallin to do the right thing, somehow—to admit what he did and suffer for it. And the threats she had issued were ones she could really implement. If she wanted, she could report the rape, even if she wasn’t sure she felt up to taking things that far. But she could indubitably pull herself together and demand a paternity test that would force him to pay her the just level of support. The choice was his to make—would this matter take place in the public eye or not? It was high time she turned the screws a bit more.

She turned on her mobile and checked that the “Hide my number” option was activated. He obviously already knew who she was and where she lived, but since the rape she had got a new, secret number because she wasn’t cut out for dealing with terror by phone. This time she wasn’t especially nervous—in fact, she could feel the adrenaline pumping through her. Sandra knew that she was better at conversations by phone than face to face, that her uncertainty disappeared when she didn’t have to display her less than appealing outer self. She took a couple of deep breaths and then dialled the number of the Hallin family landline.

“Hallin,” said a man’s voice.

“I’d like to speak to Gunilla,” said Sandra.

“I’m sure that can be arranged. Who should I say is calling?”

“You can tell her it’s Sandra. You know, the mother of your child.”

There was silence on the line. Sandra imagined the frustration growing on the other end as her words sunk in.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” he hissed with rage, his voice low now.

So he kept some secrets from his wife then, despite his denials when they had last spoken.

“Thanks for the flowers by the way,” said Sandra. “Aren’t you worried I’ll report you to the police?”

“Not really, you know. Aren’t you worried about what the consequences of this kind of blackmail might be for you?”