He looked so strong, she thought. Always had. Even when Jimmy died, Even had had a certain steelness to him. Like he wasn’t going to let anyone see how much he actually hurt.

‘Thanks for taking care of him last night,’ she said to Imo.

‘No problem. We had a pretty good night, didn’t we, champ?’

Susanne looked at them both. There seemed to be a smile in Imo’s face.

‘I’d better be off,’ he said. ‘Call me if you need anything. Both of you.’

Susanne nodded and offered her thanks once more. She watched Imo take off. His car turned the corner, and there was silence.

‘Shall we go in and make some hot chocolate or something?’ She gave Even her best possible smile.

‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘There’s a memorial service for Mari and Johannes at school. I … have to be there. I mean, I want to.’

Susanne nodded and thought of Mari again. Mari Lindgren. Cecilie’s daughter. Even had never told her directly that he’d found himself a girlfriend, but Susanne had sort of figured it out when she’d seen his sudden, blatant happiness, how he’d volunteered to take GP for a walk or help out at home more often. Still, it was Tobias who’d told her it was Mari, one evening when Even was at football practice.

First, she was happy for him. Really, she was. Then she started to worry about Cecilie – if they might have to start dealing with each other again.

‘What is it with you and Ole Hoff, anyway?’ asked Even.

The question caught her off-guard. She’d been in good spirits, with her firstborn finally home with her, but a black curtain descended over her eyes. She felt a fresh knot in her chest, too.

‘Just leave it, Even,’ she said. ‘It’s not important anymore.’

‘Didn’t seem like it yesterday,’ he said. ‘Is that why you’re always so short with Oskar whenever he’s here, too?’

Susanne looked at him. ‘I’m not!’

‘Yes, you are. You barely say hello to him, and you never smile or talk to him when he’s around or ask how he is. Have you got something against the whole Hoff family? Is that it?’

Susanne didn’t know what to say to that. Had she really behaved that way?

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘And I hope Oskar doesn’t feel the same. That was never my intention. It’s not his fault that…’ She stopped herself. Looked down at the ground as she struggled to find a good way to finish the sentence.

‘What’s not his fault?’

She shook her head and closed her eyes, angry at herself for allowing herself to speak too freely. Then she opened them again and tilted her chin upwards.

‘Oskar is welcome whenever he wants,’ she said, and attempted a smile.