‘Ohh,’ Kristoffer says, rubbing his face with his hands. ‘It’s just the whole baby thing. All this trying and trying and trying for a baby, it’s been going on for so long now. I was done with it by the end. Just like, I can’t face any more of this, you know.’

‘But now it’s all worked itself out,’ I say. 94

‘Yep,’ he says. ‘It’s all worked itself out. So, there we are.’

He swills the wine around inside his glass.

‘So now,’ he says, ‘now I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.’

‘What do you mean?’ I ask.

‘I don’t want more children,’ he says, looking me in the eye, he looks as if he’s on the verge of tears.

‘Everything went downhill between Helena and me after Olea was born. You have no idea how exhausting it is before you experience it. It’s a fucking nightmare. I mean it, you have no idea,’ he says, throwing his hands out. ‘I thought at the time we separated that if I met someone else, we’d never have kids, never take the risk of splitting up before they were two. I didn’t want any more kids. I don’t want any more.’ ‘

How did it happen, then?’ I ask.

‘I couldn’t do it,’ he says, his lower lip trembling. ‘I couldn’t say no. Didn’t want to deny her that, you know? You can’t deny a woman the opportunity to be a mother.’

‘You could always have said no,’ I say. ‘If she loved you, she’d have stayed with you regardless.’

I’m not sure I believe that.

‘I don’t think so,’ he says, drying his eyes, he’s crying and speaking more quickly now.

‘Now she’s going around trying to get excited about it all, and I’m just… just so anxious, you know? I can’t sleep, I can’t even touch her. Just before summer,’ he says, inhaling shakily, ‘just before summer we had dinner with Kristian and Ann, they’re friends of ours, I don’t think you know them,’ – I shake my head – ‘no, but anyway, Marthe refused 95a glass of wine and everyone was like oooh, something to tell us?, and we were supposed to laugh it off and keep our secret, but part of me felt like I actually wanted things to go wrong for us again. I couldn’t even fucking look at her. I didn’t want another one. I don’t.’

He shakes his head over and over again.

‘Have a bit more wine,’ I say.

‘Thanks,’ he says, holding out his glass. ‘You can’t tell Marthe any of this. You have to promise me. I can’t be saying things like this. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘I won’t say anything, of course,’ I say.