And before Karen has made it up the stone front steps and stuck the key in the lock, a relieved Björn Lange has backed up, turned around and set off towards Dunker.

*

There’s juice. Someone, Leo or Sigrid, has restocked their suddenly quickly depleting stores and the thoughtfulness of that proves to be the last straw. Sobbing, she collapses onto a kitchen chair and pours herself glass after glass.

She tells herself she should eat something but she’s not hungry, just thirsty for squeezed oranges. Tells herself she has to stop crying now, for Rufus’s sake if nothing else; the cat has jumped up on the table and is attempting to comfort her by rubbing himself against her face, leaving cat hair stuck in the snot and tears. Tells herself she has to climb the stairs. Do the things she has longed to do since yesterday: shower, turn off her phone, and go to sleep.

Just one more glass.

The acidity makes her stomach burn and she tells herself she really does have to eat something. For the baby’s sake. She reluctantly picks a banana out of the fruit bowl, methodically chews and swallows. Forces herself to have another.

When she stands up, her body feels so heavy that for a moment she considers lying down on the sofa in the living room instead of dragging herself up to her bedroom. But the shower is upstairs.

The hot water washes away the awfulness of the past few hours, and the last lingering memory of the stench in the barracks and ambulance disappears in a lathery eddy along with the shampoo. The world sways when she closes her eyes and she quickly grabs the shower rail to keep from falling. Just stands there for a while before reluctantly turning the water off.

She leaves her clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor, pulls on a T-shirt and clean knickers, and staggers into her bedroom. Her hair is wet, but she can’t be bothered to dry it. Rubs it a few more times and spreads a dry towel over her pillow. Tells herself that’ll do.

Then she pulls up the duvet and waits.

But the combination of sleep deprivation and the sugar rush from all that juice has suddenly made her exhaustion erratic. The sun is shining in through a gap in the blinds and thoughts rush through her head like heavy logs in a river, jumbled, unstoppable.

I’m never going to fall asleep, she thinks and feels an icy surge of panic.

A moment later, she’s out.

Chapter 66

66

A rushing sound in his ears. A torrent draining his arms and legs of strength. Hot blood surging to his head, making his face boil in the cold light from the TV.

That fucking cunt.