“What I wanted to say,” said Jan, “was that I barely know anything about . . . Sandra. However, what I do know is that she doesn’t want me around while the lad grows up. But money—that’s something she does want.”

Gunilla shook her head with a look of regret in her eyes and came to Sandra’s defence, using the same deadly quiet tone of voice.

“Of course she needs money, Jan. She can’t be more than thirty, and whatever line of work she’s in, she won’t have reached a salary that’s worth mentioning. She’s the sole carer for a little boy—kids aren’t cheap to look after. Of course she wants the child’s father to pay child support.”

“There’s nothing to say that I’m the child’s father,” Jan blurted out.

“Yes, Jan. There is,” said Gunilla.

And of course there was. Gunilla was right, and that made him even angrier at Sandra.

“So you actually think that I should pay support to that little whore?” he exclaimed.

He regretted it the very same moment. The tone of voice was inappropriate for the situation. Gunilla shuddered and looked at him with an expression of distaste.

“Why are you talking about her like that?” she asked. “Surely that makes you a lech? She’s just a young girl who was unlucky.”

That one hit home. He probably deserved it. But it was hard to strike the right balance when comforting one’s distraught wife while also boiling with internalised rage.

“Unlucky?” he said. “She had every opportunity to get an abortion, but chose not to. I’ve no wish to pay the bill for a financially unsound decision that I wasn’t involved in.”

Gunilla was silent. But she had calmed down now and was no longer crying.

“What did you say to her?” Jan asked.

Gunilla wiped the end of her nose and her eyes with a crumpled handkerchief that had been concealed in her hand.

“She caught me by surprise, and my spontaneous response was to defend you. She seemed like such a kind and sweet girl, but I shut the door in her face. I wish I had dealt with the situation differently.”

Sweet? That was just about the last thing she was. Sandra was inconsiderate in her approach, and now she had managed to dupe his wife too. Were the police next? Jan could feel the sweat forming on his brow.

“Surely you don’t think I should go along with her demands?” he repeated.

“I don’t think anything,” said Gunilla. “This has actually nothing to do with me.”

“You’re involved with the family’s finances, surely?” Jan muttered.

“Your child, your decision,” Gunilla sighed.

“Then I guess I’ll put six hundred and eighty-four thousand in that . . . in Sandra’s account,” said Jan.