‘Your baby’s fine,’ the doctor had said. ‘You have a deep cut to the inside of your thigh, but only superficial scratches around your vagina. It’s bleeding quite a bit, but it will heal in no time after we put in a few stitches. Your baby’s fine,’ he’d repeated.

Six weeks ago now.

*

Her mobile vibrates on the nightstand. A quick glance at the display. Then she reaches out.

‘Hi, Mum,’ she says, holding the phone to her mouth without raising her head from the pillow.

‘Hi, lambkin. How are you?’

‘Good. Still in bed.’

‘At half past ten on a Saturday? And how is the tiniest little lambkin?’

‘They tell me everything looks good. But I haven’t had the amniocentesis yet, so we won’t know unt—’

Eleanor Eiken interrupts her daughter.

‘He’s going to be just fine, I can feel it. And if not, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.’

Karen hesitates.

‘She, actually,’ she says after a brief pause. ‘It’s a girl.’

The other end goes quiet. Just a faint rushing sound. Then a sob travels the hundreds of miles from a flat in Estepona to a stone house in Langevik.

‘A girl?’ Eleanor Eiken says thickly. ‘We’re having a little girl?’

‘Well, I am,’ Karen says. ‘And Leo, of course. Not that I understand how they can see anything in those grainy pictures, but apparently they’re sure.’

Her voice dry, almost objective, as though she’s talking about something trivial: a new car, a new refrigerator.

As though her joy is too fragile to be shouted out.

Apparently, Eleanor Eiken agrees that emotional restraint is what’s needed to stay earthbound. Karen hears her clearing her throat.

‘Well, we’re coming back up at the end of August, so I can look for myself then.’

‘You are? But the baby’s due in October. Surely there’s no reason for you to visit so soon before?’

‘Yes, but Harry and I have been talking. We would like to be there, to help out. Both before the birth and after.’

‘Help out with what? I hope you’re not talking about making the house bigger. I really don’t have the time or energy right now.’

‘Harry says he knows how you could convert the attic without it costing too much. And you can’t live the way you do forever, you know.’

‘Why not? You and Dad lived here with me.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Eleanor Eiken says impatiently. ‘But that’s not what I’m talking about. I wasn’t going to tell you yet, because Sigrid and I wanted it to be a surprise, but I suppose you might as well know.’

With a distinct feeling she won’t like what’s coming, Karen pushes up into a sitting position.

‘What are you talking about?’ she says.