She lets Milo out, and as usual the stupid dog ignores her completely. While Milo is out she takes a shower, washes away Stockholm, Santesson and the interview. She tells herself once again that she did what she could, and that there is no point in worrying anymore. She is waiting for Håkan to pipe up, but apparently, he has nothing to say. His absence makes her feel desperately lonely. She lets the water flow through her hair and over her face for a long time, until it begins to run cold.

Agnes has answered her text:

Whatever.

It’s not exactly the kind of response she was hoping for, but it will have to do.

She pulls on a vest top and sweatpants, wraps her threadbare robe around her body and slides her feet into wooden clogs. Dusk is falling, and as she steps out onto the porch to call Milo in, she sees a light glinting among the trees. At first she thinks it’s the Vespa’s headlamp, but then she realises it’s a car. Klein’s pickup truck stops in front of her, and she sees that Agnes is in the passenger seat.

‘Hi, Mum,’ she says. Her voice is neither friendly nor unfriendly, but there is no hug, just a crooked little smile. ‘I’ve been to Änglaberga to photograph the rest of Karl-Jo’s paintings in Mats’s collection. Aunt Elisabet asked Klein to drive me home. He’s got some apples for us.’

Before Anna can react to the fact that Agnes has started referring to Elisabet Vidje as ‘Aunt’, Klein appears with a big wooden box.

‘Cox’s Orange,’ he says. ‘We’ve got plenty.’

‘Thank you.’ She steps aside and lets them into the kitchen. Klein places the box on the table, while Agnes heads for her room. Milo lingers, transfixed by Klein as always. He doesn’t follow Agnes until she calls him.

Klein shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot and glances in the direction of Agnes’s door.

‘I actually wanted a word with you, Anna. Maybe we could go outside?’

She accompanies him out to the pickup. The evening air is damp and chilly, carrying with it the smell of decay.

Only now does she see Agnes’s Vespa in the back of the truck, secured with ratchet straps.

‘I’ll help you get it down,’ she says.

Klein shakes head and nods at her robe and clogs. ‘I’ll do it. You’re not exactly dressed for the job.’

He drops the tailgate and pulls out a wide plank, which he props up against the back of the truck before manoeuvring the moped down the improvised ramp. It looks easy, but she hears him grunt a couple of times. This reminds her that he is considerably older than he looks.