“Yes, I realised that soon enough. But the damage was already done. I didn’t dare or have it in me to keep on trying. And perhaps that was fortunate—the first time I got away with it.”

“Status quo,” said Sandra thoughtfully.

“Can I ask you a question?” Kerstin asked.

“Of course, but I’m not sure I’ll answer,” said Sandra, who thought she might have an idea of what the question was going to be.

“The thing you said about there being no passengers in Hallin’s car—how can you be so sure?”

“I might tell you the day you explain to me why you didn’t report your husband missing,” Sandra replied slyly.

In reality she had no plans to ever induct Kerstin into her own secrets. To date, no one had been granted access to that dark room, and Kerstin, who was weighed down by her own troubles, was hardly going to be the exception.

25

Jeanette

LUBBI HAD MADE an effort and it had paid dividends. He had plucked up the courage—and stayed sober enough—to explain the situation to both the police and the social services employee, not to mention the woman in her late middle age who had been struck in the face by Jeanette’s hand. Jeanette had been present, but was in no shape to do anything other than shake or nod her head. After Lubbi’s account of her long-term depression following the loss of her daughter and subsequent divorce, everyone involved had become more understanding. It had already been noted that no real injuries had been caused, and when Jeanette became remorseful and apologised the matter had been resolved amicably, the investigation discontinued and Jeanette released.

Since then, Jeanette had stopped taking tablets and settled for the intoxication provided by alcohol. If she knew herself at all, it was probably only temporary, but right now it was enough. She noted with some ambivalence how the others kept an eye on her, ready to step in at any moment and protect her from herself. She liked their caring attitudes, but at the same time she felt constantly under surveillance and thus captive.

To make sure she didn’t worry anyone, she maintained a low profile and only spoke in a low voice with whomever happened to be closest. With that approach to the generally high-spirited crowd outside the East Gate, she often ended up on one of the outermost benches together with Nanna.

Nanna was certainly no ray of sunshine, but she was good. She didn’t run off at the mouth like most of the others, including Jeanette, although what she did say was generally irrelevant. Jeanette liked her company, even though big-hearted Lubbi was the one for whom she had made the most space in her life.

“Tell me about your lover,” Nanna said one day.

If Lubbi had initiated the same conversation, he would have done so apologetically, while offering Jeanette a free pass to change the subject if she preferred. But Nanna was issuing a challenge—although it included all the other elements too. It was in her tone, her eyes, and her body language. Jeanette knew that she was free to decline the invitation, that Nanna didn’t want to hurt her or open up old wounds, that she was offering a shoulder to cry on even if Jeanette would never do the same.