The sound of sirens should have tipped her off, should have made her take her regular route, through town, instead of trying to be smart and make up time. Although, she realises after a quick glance at her bag on the passenger seat, it’s highly possible she wasn’t thinking at all. That she hasn’t been since she lay down on the table and felt the cold lump of jelly on her stomach.

At least she had been smart enough to keep the fact that she hadn’t been able to make out anything in the blurry picture to herself. She’d nodded along when the doctor pointed to the screen.

‘This is the spine, and you can see the heart here. Everything looks good, but down the line you may want to have amniocentesis just to be on the safe side. If you want. But you don’t have to decide that now.’

She had continued to nod mechanically, had listened to the doctor explain the risks of the test and with pregnancy at her age in general. Had registered phrases like high blood pressure, ruptured placenta, premature birth, protracted labour, and Down’s syndrome.

‘And miscarriage, of course; I’m afraid that’s very common at your age.’

‘Of course. Can you tell the sex?’

‘Not yet, you’re only at the end of week eleven. But we can find out a few weeks from now. If you’re still—’

If I’m still pregnant then.

‘—interested in finding out in advance if it’s a girl or a boy.’

And along with further advice about iron and calcium and carrying on like normal and hoping for the best, Karen had been handed a printout of the blurry ultrasound picture and climbed back into her car.

Now, she looks back out at the traffic jam and notes that things have gone from a crawl to a complete standstill. In the far distance, she can just about make out the reflection of blue lights where the road curves around the mountain. She squashes the impulse to call the station and instead turns on the radio.

Within thirty seconds, the broadcast is interrupted by the familiar jingle.

‘There has been a traffic accident on road 32, northbound, near Gaarda, just past the Dunker exit. Emergency services are at the scene and police are advising motorists to use an alternative route via Glitne. We will be back with more information as it comes in.’

Timely advice, Karen grumbles and glances up at the rear-view mirror. The man in the car behind her runs a hand through his hair and leans back resignedly.

She glances over at her handbag. Considers pulling out the picture and having another look. Maybe this time, instead of seeing something akin to a satellite image of a vast low-pressure, she’ll be able to make out what the doctor was talking about.

And then, the memory is there. Uninvited, crystal-clear.