Tabor is dark and silent when she arrives. Only the outside light is on, and she leans forward to see if there’s a little white figure waiting on the top step. Nothing. She feels an increasingly heavy weight on her chest.

When the cab has gone she switches on all the lights in the house before going back outside.

‘Milo!’ she shouts. ‘Miiii-looo!’

All she can hear is the wind soughing in the treetops.

She leaves the front door open in case he turns up. She picks up the cordless phone and after a couple of attempts remembers the pin code so that she can check the voicemail messages on her mobile.

First there’s one from her solicitor, which she deletes, then one that surprises her.

‘Hi, it’s Alex . . . Morell.’ He sounds unsure of himself. ‘I just wanted to check how you were. I’ve been thinking about what you said. About the boy I was, and the man I became. I don’t know when my life stopped, but I’m intending to reclaim it. Whatever it takes . . .’

He seems to forget what he was going to say, or else he simply changes his mind, because the call ends abruptly.

She moves on to the third message and immediately recognises the commissioner’s rasping voice. He begins by saying he was sorry to hear about the accident, and that he’s pleased and relieved to learn that they’re all OK, but she knows exactly what he wants. The weight on her chest increases.

‘. . . decided to transfer you to a new post here in Malmö in my office, where your unique skills will find a more appropriate outlet. Better career prospects, higher salary . . .’

He makes it sound like a promotion, a step up. He even stresses the fact that he has absolute confidence in her, and ends by saying that the most important thing right now is for her to take plenty of time to recover from the accident and focus on her family. Anna has no doubt about what’s happened; all she has to do is compare the times. The commissioner’s message was left less than two hours after her meeting with Bengt Andersson. The car accident was the straw that broke the camel’s back and made the commissioner give in to the pressure from Andersson and Morell’s friends in high places, presumably with the scrawny little governor at the forefront.

An hour or so pushing papers around in order to magic up a suitable post for her, then she gets the sack. Because that’s what’s happened, in spite of the commissioner’s assurances to the contrary. The men have won, and she’s been kicked out. She is finding it difficult to breathe. The air in the kitchen feels thick, her lungs are far too small.

She goes outside and sits on the step. Takes several deep breaths, inhaling the cold evening air.