For the second time that evening, Anna is standing in the doorway of Elisabet’s hospital room. Milo is sitting by her feet, looking at the three people who are there. Lisa is back, perched on the side of the bed as Elisabet flicks through the photo albums Anna has just handed over.

‘Look, this is your father when he’d just been given his first guitar,’ Elisabet says to her granddaughter. ‘He’s so happy! Karl-Johan bought it for him in Copenhagen – you were there too, weren’t you, Bror?’

Klein, who is standing at the foot of the bed, smiles. Behind the smile, the handsome young man in the portrait is visible for a fraction of a second.

‘Thanks for picking up the albums, Anna,’ Elisabet goes on. Her voice and expression are warm and friendly. ‘Did you manage to find Bror’s pills?’

‘I did.’ She turns to Klein. ‘I put them in your coat pocket along with your keys.’

‘Thanks,’ he mumbles. The smile stiffens.

Elisabet points out one picture after another to a delighted Lisa, but Klein is no longer fully engaged. He seems to be watching Anna, waiting for her to do or say something.

‘Bror and I are immensely grateful for everything you’ve done for us, Anna,’ Elisabet says.

Anna nods, unsure of how to respond. Klein’s intense gaze is burning into her, and she is finding it difficult to keep the mask in place.

‘One last question before you go.’ Elisabet sits up a little straighter.

‘Of course.’

‘The quarry.’

‘Yes?’

‘What do you think actually happened that night, Anna?’

A part of her has been waiting for this question. Not long ago she promised Elisabet that she would find out the truth about Simon. Now she has done just that; she knows every tiny, terrible, tragic detail. So, how much should she share? She glances at Klein.

Twenty-seven years ago he made a decision; he couldn’t possibly have foreseen the consequences. Would things have been different if he’d told the truth back then?

Simon would still have been dead, his friends would still have been tormented by the way they’d treated him. Maybe they would have felt worse. After all, it was their fault that Simon left the quarry and got on his bike, upset, angry and humiliated, and set off in the rain and the dark.

Elisabet would have been spared almost thirty years of bitterness, but would she really have preferred the truth? And Simon’s father, who couldn’t even bear the thought of killing an animal, would have been forced to face the fact that he’d killed his own son. Maybe Karl-Johan suspected something? Was that why Simon’s body lay in the water in the mural, yet from certain angles it wasn’t there, depending on how you looked. Depending on what you wanted to see?