The mantelpiece is lined with photographs; the ones on the far left are black and white. A man and a woman in their forties, with the same grim appearance as Elisabet – presumably her parents. The next one shows the same woman standing between two smartly dressed little girls – Elisabet and her sister? The third is slightly bigger: Elisabet Vidje and a man whose photo Anna has already seen on the internet. Karl-Johan.

They make an attractive couple. Elisabet is wearing a simple but elegant white dress and holding a bouquet of flowers. Karl-Jo is stylish in a well-fitting suit. They are both smiling into the camera and look happy, as you do when you are young and don’t know any different.

Anna gets up and moves closer. The couple are standing at the top of an impressive stone staircase. She guesses it’s at the town hall in Lund. She can see the shadow of the photographer on the steps to their right. The young Elisabet is very beautiful, yet Anna’s eyes are drawn to Karl-Johan. He has a special aura that not even a black-and-white photograph from the early ’70s can suppress. His eyes, his smile, the way his long blond hair falls at an angle over his forehead.

Beside the wedding picture is a colour photo of a blond, tousle-haired little boy aged about two sitting on his daddy’s knee. It is summer, they are having a picnic in a meadow. The child has his arm around Daddy’s neck, and the sun is making them both screw up their eyes. In the next photo, Elisabet is there too; Simon is in the middle, one chubby arm around each parent’s neck. Once again the shadow of the photographer can just be seen.

The last picture on the far right is of Simon in a white jacket and his student cap. He has long fair hair, and is gazing into the lens with the same slightly amused expression his father has in the wedding photo twenty years earlier. Anna can’t help picking it up, trying to compare the face with the figure in the water in the mural. The clock strikes, tinkling chimes like a mixture of glass and metal, and she doesn’t hear the door open.

‘He has his father’s eyes, don’t you think?’

Elisabet Vidje has put on a dressing gown and sheepskin slippers. She looks tired; her face is grey, and she has dark circles under her eyes. However, her expression is just as sharp and alert as the last time they met. There is no sign of Klein, but Anna is sure he’s not far away.

She puts down the photo. ‘How did you and Karl-Johan meet?’

Elisabet smiles.