Her voice breaks and she turns to the window. Looks out at the road where the occasional four-by-four slowly passes. People on their way home after a long day at work in Dunker, Ravenby, or Grunder. IT technicians, lawyers, web developers. People with careers and houses by the sea. Newly renovated houses with sealed windows and pristine roof shingles. People with families. People who help themselves to life as though it were a buffet.

She had all of that once. And she lost it.

The warmth of Leo’s hand when he puts it on hers hurts.

‘I’m ten years older than you,’ she says without knowing why.

‘Eight. Just.’

She says nothing.

‘Anyway, it’s good thing I’m so bloody young,’ Leo continues and knocks back the last of his beer. ‘We can’t both be using Zimmer frames to get this kid to nursery.’

She lets out a snort of laughter. Quickly wipes her nose on her wrist.

‘There are no nurseries in Langevik,’ she informs him.

‘I guess you’re right. Well, that settles it then. Can’t be done without a local nursery.’

Silence.

‘On the other hand,’ he says with a nod to her untouched pint, ‘it looks like your mind’s made up already.’

Chapter 31

31

Everything during the short drive home breathes possibility. Whispers of it in the silence after she parks the car and they sit in the dark, side by side. Tells her she should ask him to come with her, into the house, her bed, that he would say yes if she just asked. That they could let things go back to what they’d been a few weeks ago.

But she says nothing. Leo says nothing. Just takes her hand and then they sit there. He doesn’t let go until she starts fumbling around for the door handle. The possibility is still there, they haven’t parted ways yet. There’s still time to say something. The seconds tick by while they stand in front of the house, looking at each other under the cover of dusk.

He’s the one who breaks the stand-off. His embrace his hard and brief, suddenly unsure of its purpose. Then he lets go and walks off towards the annex.

She watches him for a moment. Sees light spill out onto the lawn when he turns the light on in his room. Then she turns around and walks up the narrow gravel path to the front door. The windows stare back at her, black and blind; apparently, Sigrid’s not home.

She heaves a sigh of relief.

She wants to be alone, needs to be alone. Needs to sort out, go over. Not feel; she no longer has any faith in her feelings. Just think clearly, find her own answers.

A way to bloody approach this.