After Agnes has been moved to a general ward, Anna reluctantly decides to go home to Tabor. She needs something to eat and a change of clothes, and she has an even more important task to deal with: Milo. Agnes asked about the dog, and idiotically she allowed her Mummy-reflex to kick in, and said that he was just fine. A white lie. Coming out of an induced coma after a serious car accident, then finding out the truth about her father’s death is more than any sixteen-year-old should have to deal with in one day.

The last time Anna saw Milo, he was in the back seat with Agnes. She’s pretty sure the dog was knocked unconscious, and ended up at the bottom of the river with the car. The vehicle isn’t due to be recovered until later in the week, so all she can do until then is hope that Milo somehow got out and made his way home to Tabor – six miles or so – but she isn’t optimistic.

She goes back to her room to fetch her jacket, which is still damp, pays the two hundred kronor for her emergency treatment, then checks on Lisa before she leaves. Lisa is delighted to hear the news about Agnes.

‘They’re keeping me in overnight,’ she says. ‘Is it OK if I go and see Agnes tomorrow morning?’

‘Of course!’

‘By the way, what happened to her little dog?’

Anna forces a smile. ‘I’m hoping he’s OK, against all the odds. I’m heading home to look for him now.’

*

She is intending to call a cab in reception, but there’s one already waiting at the entrance to the emergency department. Her body is still slow, her muscles are aching and her movements are stiff. As she reaches the taxi she notices a familiar truck with Polish number plates pulling into the drop-off zone. Two men jump out, and she recognises them immediately. They’re two of the Poles from Änglaberga who helped her and Agnes move into Tabor. One has a large, bloodstained bandage around his lower leg. He leans against the other man for support as he limps slowly towards the door. The truck remains where it is. Anna recognises the driver too. He nods as she approaches, and winds down his window.

‘What happened?’ she asks.

‘Accident.’

‘Where?’

‘In forest.’ The driver looks as if he’d like to say more, but at that moment his uninjured colleague reappears and yells something in Polish that makes him start the engine.

‘Sorry,’ he says apologetically, closing the window.

*

The journey home takes forty-five minutes, and Anna has to direct the driver for the last section. As they pass the bend where she lost control of the car, she shuts her eyes. She doesn’t want to see the police tape or how close to death they actually were.