‘I would, but I have a client at eight thirty,’ I say. This isn’t exactly true – my first is at eleven, but I’d like a couple of hours in my peaceful, bright office before seeing anyone, catching up on emails and case notes like I always do on a Monday morning. Besides, I am exhausted after a full weekend with Camilla, Vilja and Birk and I want to enjoy a long evening at home with Eirik, cooking together and snuggling by the fireplace.

*

I leave Camilla’s at four and start the drive back to Oslo, but get caught up in the painfully slow Sunday-afternoon traffic of weekenders returning to the city from their cabins. At one point it completely stops moving and I put the car in neutral, securing the handbrake. I sit, cocooned, listening to the slam of the rain, which is falling heavily again for the ninth day in a row. I turn the wipers off to better hear the rain and, without them, the world instantly becomes a gray blur. I still feel disconcertingly empty, like I have all weekend. I’m not sure if it’s due to how emotional I sometimes get being around my niece and nephew, or a lingering sense of worry for Leah Iverson. I am usually good at switching off from my clients at weekends – I have to be. Or it is because this is the first time I’ve returned to Oslo on this same road without stopping in to see Elisabeth. And I never will again. Villa Vinternatt is down there, set snug in a leafy forest between the motorway and the sea, less than three minutes’ drive away from where the traffic has ground to a standstill. And she isn’t there. Of course – that must be why I feel unsettled and a little melancholic.

Still no movement on the road, so I fish my phone from my handbag and glance at the screen. There are two missed calls from a number I don’t recognize. And there is a message from Eirik, sent fifteen minutes ago, probably right after I texted him saying I was on my way home.

I thought you’d be home much later. You said Sunday night? I’m with Lars, we thought we’d catch a movie at six.

I feel a stab of annoyance. We hardly ever see each other – why is he making plans with his friend on a Sunday night? And if he really thought I’d be home later, why didn’t he cancel with Lars when he received my message saying I was on my way home? I’m not a demanding wife. At least I don’t think I am. I just want to feel prioritized by Eirik, and the truth is, much of the time, I don’t. Especially lately.