Her legs wouldn’t carry her; she collapsed in the sand. She couldn’t even answer Harald when he called out he was going to look outside the playground to make sure she wasn’t hiding behind a tree.

There were, of course, any number of places to rule out before they could be absolutely sure. Then the police would be called and an alert would be sent out. But it was mostly for appearances’ sake. So they could clear their own names and claim they’d done everything. Whatever that was supposed to accomplish when what must never happen had just happened.

Again.

64

They were looking. She could tell they were all looking, almost staring, even though they were doing everything they could to hide it. She had to admit it wasn’t exactly surprising, given that she normally never wore make-up, other than maybe a hint of lipstick if she was going to a wedding or some such. Today, she’d attempted a proper pancake.

But no one said anything. They all just sat there, waiting for the meeting to start, slurping their coffee like they were on a hike and the lukewarm liquid scalding hot. And she could see why. What were they supposed to say? Even if they did suspect what was hidden underneath the layers of concealer and powder, they could hardly do anything other than keep their mouths shut.

It was the first time Hampus had ever hit her. But it wasn’t the first time he’d raised his hand in anger, though until now he’d always chosen to take out his frustration on the nearest piece of furniture instead, or whatever else happened to be within arm’s reach.

But this time, his fist had completed its trajectory through the air without interruption, and in some twisted way, she felt relief, some kind of gratitude, that he’d finally crossed the line and nothing in the world could make it undone.

She’d left him more times than she could count. But he’d never accepted it was more than empty threats, which in some ways it had been. Because despite all the problems and ugliness, there had still been a part of her that loved him. But that was then. Everything was different now.

As expected, he’d launched into extravagant apologies and promises it would never happen again. Not to mention his pathetic justifications about his blood sugar being low after working on the lawn all day, or how terrible he’d been feeling recently because she made him feel so rejected. Which somehow made her complicit. After all, it took two to tango and yada, yada, yada.

He could say whatever he wanted. It made no difference. It was over. So incredibly fucking over.

‘Irene?’

Lilja looked up at Tuvesson, who had turned to her.

‘Are you okay?’