Before she had time to start watching, a man appeared in front of her. She had noticed him a little while ago when he had passed her with rapid steps on the road between the store and his car. Apparently he had changed his mind and turned around.

“Vejdhem,” he said. “Is that where you’re going?”

He looked pleasant; his thick dark hair, greying at the temples, reminded her of a younger version of her father.

“Yes,” Sandra replied. “I’ve been waiting for the past forty minutes for a taxi that is apparently never coming.”

“We can sort that,” said the man. “I’m going that way, so you can get a lift with me.”

Then he bent down and picked up her things, managing to get everything before walking towards the car.

“Thanks,” said Sandra in relief, following. “That’s really nice. I should probably cancel the taxi.”

“Do you feel they’ve done anything to deserve that?” he said with a smile.

Sandra didn’t disagree; she didn’t owe the taxi company anything.

He put the shopping in the boot and held open the passenger door. She got in and tried to blow life into her chilly fingers.

“It seems to have got really cold suddenly,” she said as they pulled away.

“It’s the ‘Siberian chill’ on its way,” he said, referring ironically to the alarming headlines in the evening papers.

He had a sense of humour, which made any conversation easier. After all, they were going to spend some time together.

“Do you live near Vejdhem?” Sandra asked.

“No, but I have an errand to run in your neck of the woods, so it isn’t even out of my way.”

Conversation flowed. Sandra didn’t get in many words, but she didn’t need to either. She listened with some interest as the man told her about his passion for Gotland’s history, as he summarised the ice hockey league standings, and when he told her about his efforts on behalf of human rights and against hunger and war and environmental destruction and everything else. He ensured there were no awkward silences in the car, and Sandra was grateful for that.

However, she thought he was driving a little carelessly. He wasn’t attentive enough when passing or at crossroads, and he was often looking at her rather than the road while talking. After a while it occurred to her that the loquaciousness and lack of concentration in driving might both be because he was not altogether sober, even though it was only a little before three o’clock in the afternoon. On reflection, wasn’t there a whiff of spirits in the car? Fortunately there wasn’t much traffic on the roads and she would soon be home.

They drove past the old limestone quarry at Madvar. The road was suddenly covered in black ice, and instead of slowing down the man accelerated into the corner.

3

Jan

HE ZIPPED UP his fly, did up the button, and tightened his belt. He bent forward and kissed her softly on the mouth and both her cheeks. She was steaming with warmth and had the diffuse scent of woman. Shampoo, lotion, soap, or a mild perfume—something attractive that tempted him to stay in the warmth around her body. But he restrained himself and a moment later he was in the driver’s seat, in an excellent mood in spite of everything.