Sandra splashed some water on the bulbs in the pots on the porch, put down the watering can, and went inside. She switched on the kettle, and while waiting for it to boil she sat down on the sofa in the living room to check her mobile.

That was when Kerstin called. After six days of silence.

“How are you?” Sandra asked. “Do you feel better now? You were very upset last time.”

“I’m always upset,” Kerstin said without beating about the bush.

“I’m glad you’ve called anyway. I’ve been worried about you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be all right.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t call me again,” Sandra said truthfully. “That I was too forward and asked too many personal questions. That I talk about things that are too sensitive.”

Kerstin was quiet for a while and then said, “I suppose I do think that.”

“You know that it’s all on your own terms . . .”

“But I’ve decided that I need to talk about this stuff,” Kerstin interrupted. “That it’s good for me.”

Sandra sighed with relief.

“It’s up to you what you want to tell me,” she said. “If I ask questions that you don’t like, just say so. Okay?”

“That works,” said Kerstin, before falling silent for a while.

Sandra tried waiting her out, but nothing happened. She didn’t want to seem too pushy and decided to take a wide path around the subject that had been burning inside her for six long days.

“Can I ask what you do with your time, Kerstin?”

“Nothing much.”

“You don’t work?”

“I was on sick leave for a long time after I lost my husband, totally lost my spark of life. Then I took early retirement. But I sometimes step in and do supply work in various preschools.”

“Was that what you used to do?”

“Yes, but it’s more fun now that I don’t have to spend every week doing it.”

“And when you’re not at work, what do you do?”

“I read a lot.”

“That makes me happy,” said Sandra, and it really did.

“Why?”

“Because people who read have richer lives. Are never idle. And are generally more empathetic.”

“I don’t feel especially empathetic,” said Kerstin.

“How do you mean?”

“There are people I hate.”

When Kerstin had been talking about her daily life, her voice had sounded a little dull and powerless. Now there was an edge that was new—they were getting close.

“Hate is a heavy burden to carry,” Sandra said. “It drains you.”

“And I’m very tired,” Kerstin admitted.

“Hate usually dissipates with time,” Sandra said tentatively. “I think you would feel better if you let it go.”

“I have no intention of doing that. Quite the opposite—I’m nurturing it. Out of respect for my late husband.”

“Are you brooding over some kind of revenge?” It suddenly struck Sandra. “Are you planning to take the law into your own hands?”

Kerstin laughed, a joyless laugh that was so sharp it sliced into Sandra’s ear.