Ingvar had really bowled her over that time, when in the middle of making dinner he’d asked her to come with him to the car, where a packed bag and plane tickets had been waiting for them. It certainly wasn’t the norm for him to surprise her with a getaway. Or anything, for that matter. The few times he’d remembered to buy her flowers on their anniversary could be counted on one hand. Consequently, it was with a sense of wonder and anticipation that she’d sat down in the seafood bar at Copenhagen Airport and ordered a glass of champagne.

The weekend had been lovely. Not only had they eaten well and seen too many attractions to count. They’d also had time to take lots of pictures, something they normally never did. And for once, Ingvar had even developed them and put them in an album.

And yet there was something that chafed at her when she thought about that Berlin trip. An unsettling dissonance she’d never been able to put her finger on, which had made her almost repress the memory of that weekend. In the past few years, she actually hadn’t given it a thought, until this afternoon, when Fabian Risk stopped by with his ambiguous questions.

Looking back, it was so hazy. She had suddenly felt ill, that much she remembered. She had suspected that apfelstrudel at Café Einstein, and after that they’d been forced to go back to their hotel where she had gone to bed, trembling and clammy.

She’d felt so stupid; anxiety at being ill when they were travelling and were supposed to be having a nice time had completely overwhelmed her. But Ingvar had been so understanding and lovely, reassuring her that she probably only needed a lie-down and that she would be back on her feet in no time.

Afterwards, she’d pondered the strangeness of his behaviour. It had been so unlike him. He, who was usually anything but gracious about her being ill. He, who always behaved like it was his world falling apart, not hers. As though she had deliberately come down with something or was just too lazy to get up.

In Berlin, he’d been completely different. He’d been tender and kind and not annoyed in the slightest. He’d helped her get undressed, tucked her in and brought her water. As though he wasn’t really surprised.

She hadn’t realized she’d dozed off until she woke up. In fact, she’d been so out of it, she was confused about where she was at first. Her memories hadn’t started drifting back until Ingvar had come and sat down on the edge of the bed and told her she was in a hotel room in Berlin. It had taken her several minutes to accept that she’d been ‘out’ for over ten hours.