Tanya led him past the tents, beyond the plateau. She began to giggle, then burst out laughing. Simon couldn’t help joining in. His jeans were sodden and cold, plastered to his legs. Tanya kept going, on into the forest. They stumbled over the uneven ground, and once she almost fell over head first, but luckily he caught her. Neither of them could stop laughing – not until they reached a big oak tree. She stopped and threw her arms around him and kissed him again. His hands found a life of their own, exploring her body. They pressed close together, then somehow they’d taken off their jeans. Tanya’s legs were wrapped around his waist, her back was against the tree. He felt her take hold of him and guide him into a soft warmth that embraced him in the same way as the darkness in the water. She dug her nails into the back of his neck and thrust her hips against his. She gave a loud moan, then made him join her in an increasingly frantic rhythm until the whole world – or maybe it was just his head? – dissolved into a cascade of atoms.

Chapter 19

19

Autumn 2017

The Morell family home is a single-storey house with a basement, probably built in the late 1960s. The garden is incredibly neat, with barely a fallen leaf to be seen on the lawns, in the flowerbeds or among the various figures dotted around. Anna counts three gnomes, two statues and an entire family of deer at the front of the house. A large dark blue BMW is parked outside the gate, and for a moment she wonders if it’s Morell’s private vehicle. Then she sees the Glarea sticker in the back window and guesses that it probably isn’t.

Agnes isn’t happy about being dragged along, but at least she hasn’t kicked off or slammed any doors. The fragile truce engendered by the story of Simon Vidje seems to be holding.

Morell’s wife, Eva-Britt, turns out to be an elegant, pleasant woman in her mid-sixties, with a sense of humour and a mind of her own. She hugs them both as if they are already friends, and in no time wins Agnes over by offering her the same drink as everyone else.

‘Henry always makes them too weak,’ Eva-Britt whispers as she shows them into the living room.

The smell reminds Anna of her maternal grandparents’ house – an unmistakable hint of mustiness that gets into your clothes and accompanies you home. The living room is cool, as if the central heating has only just been switched on. Henry Morell is there, along with two other people.

‘My apologies, Anna, but Bengt and Marie have just got back from Stockholm, and they really wanted to meet you,’ Morell says, nodding to the unexpected guests.

The man holds out his hand. ‘Bengt Andersson. Welcome to Nedanås, Anna.’