38

Sonja had always been the one who organized the children’s birthday parties. He had at most helped run the games or hand out goody bags and, when the children got older, he’d put together playlists for them. If he’d been there at all and not buried in some investigation or other.

This time, he was in charge. The apple pie still had twenty minutes left in the oven and the burgers were resting under their plastic wrap, waiting to be fried. The table was laid and the kitchen cleaned.

The only thing left to do while Sonja and Matilda were hanging up their coats was to turn off Yello’s ‘To the Sea’ from Pocket Universe, an album that always put him in a good mood, and instead turn on a mix CD he’d made with a few of Matilda’s favourite artists, like Justin Bieber, Beyoncé and Rihanna.

‘Welcome home,’ he said as he went to meet them. ‘You’re finally here.’

‘We are, and the house looks so lovely.’ Sonja shot him a smile that would normally have eased the weight on his shoulders, but now was neither here nor there, since Matilda didn’t even bother to turn around.

‘Thanks, sweetheart,’ he said and gave her a hug.

Maybe that was crossing a line, given that they hadn’t had any physical contact whatsoever recently. But the way she flinched and almost shied away showed just how far apart they had really drifted, even though she quickly pulled herself together and returned the hug for the sake of appearances.

‘Matilda.’ He turned to her, arms outstretched. ‘Can I have a hug from you too?’

‘I’d rather not. I’m still sore from all the surgeries.’

‘All right, but you let me know the minute you feel better. You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you.’

Matilda nodded with a smile that signalled nothing more than tolerance.

‘Imagine, back home again,’ he went on, feeling as though he was trying to accelerate with the clutch engaged. ‘It’s almost hard to believe you’re really here and we’re all together again.’

‘Yes, isn’t it incredible,’ Sonja agreed. ‘And speaking of which – where’s Theodor?’

‘In his room. I’ll go get him. Sonja, would you mind toasting the bread? It’s all set up. And, right, Matilda, guess what we’re having for starters?’

He’d been hoping it had been something temporary connected to her waking up in the hospital. But apparently it hadn’t been, because there it was again. That strange, distant look. As though it wasn’t his own daughter standing there, looking up at him with a stony expression.

‘Toast Skagen!’ He squeezed out a smile and wished the ground would swallow him up. ‘You know. Your favourite, with hand-peeled prawns, mayonnaise and the whole shebang.’