‘And she told me this, my friend from long ago. And things will never be the same.’

Simon didn’t look any different. The shoulder-length fair hair, the pointed nose, the slender fingers. Carina had heard him sing and play the guitar hundreds of times, just like now, and yet it was as if he had suddenly been transformed, become someone else altogether.

‘I’ll see you by the waters. The dark and lonely waters.’

When he reached the second chorus, Tanya joined in. Her voice was surprisingly deep, and Simon quickly adapted and sang the upper part instead of the melody, making the song even more beautiful. Carina and the others simply sat in silence, listening. Even Joe, although he was trying to maintain his ironic expression. Simon and Tanya’s voices blended perfectly, echoing out across the old quarry.

‘The dark and lonely waters.’

Carina tried to join in the final chorus, but without much success. Her voice was too weak, so feeble that it could hardly be heard. When they stopped singing, there was total silence.

‘That was amazing,’ Carina said, squeezing Simon’s arm.

‘Thanks,’ he replied, without taking his eyes off Tanya.

Alex spat over the edge of the rock, clearly pissed off.

‘Fantastic,’ Bruno said. He looked as if he’d like to say more, but one look from Marie silenced him.

Joe got to his feet, stretched exaggeratedly and winked at Carina.

‘I’m getting bored now. How about a dip? Or are you kids too scared to swim in the dark?’

Chapter 11

11

Autumn 2017

The railway station in Nedanås is a beautiful building from the early 1900s, with tall pillars, a rendered façade and a clock tower right in the centre. Inside Anna can see a small waiting room, the obligatory newspaper kiosk, and a large sign informing her that Espresso House will be opening here very soon.

It is almost five o’clock, and the bus depot in front of the station is full of people on their way home from work or school. Anna parks in the drop-off/pick-up zone, gets out of the car and tries to spot her daughter. The air is thick with exhaust fumes and cigarette smoke. There is no sign of Agnes, so she decides to head for the platform. As she steps onto the pavement, she hears a voice shouting behind her.

‘You can’t park there!’

A patrol car has pulled up with the window down. Jens Friberg is sitting in the passenger seat, and at the wheel is the snappy, short-haired woman she met in the kitchen earlier.

‘Hi, Jens,’ Anna says. ‘I’m just picking up my daughter.’

‘The traffic regulations apply to everyone,’ Friberg says. ‘And it looked as if you were about to leave the vehicle. If you leave the vehicle, it’s parked.’