‘Klippan, we don’t have all day.’ She’d managed to prevent him from entering the bedroom, but all she could do out here was hope he wouldn’t notice the swastika behind the reclining chairs and wheelbarrow she’d brought out and strategically arranged to hide it. ‘Please, Hampus could be back any minute.’

‘I don’t see any moss.’

‘Right, I think it was dandelions, now you mention it.’

‘I don’t see any dandelions either.’

‘Well, no, he got rid of them.’ She sighed, hoping it was loud enough for Klippan to hear. ‘That was the whole point. What does it have to do with my moving, anyway?’

Klippan turned around and looked her in the eyes. ‘Irene. How are you really doing?’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean? Seriously, what’s this in aid of?’ She didn’t have it in her. There was no time for this right now. ‘Can’t we just get the stuff out and—’

‘You’re not yourself,’ Klippan cut in. ‘You’ve been withdrawn and weird all week, and in the meetings you’ve stared at your phone the whole time. What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing’s the matter! I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about. Did you come here to help me carry things or to play therapist?’

‘I came to help you, which is why I’m asking you what’s wrong. I’m not allowed to go into your bedroom. Hampus can’t even know you’re moving out today, and now this.’ Klippan walked towards the chairs. ‘Whatever this is, it has nothing to do with moss or dandelions.’

‘He hit me. Hampus hit me. Happy now?’

‘What? What are you talking about?’ Klippan stopped and turned to her. ‘Are you serious? Hampus?’

Lilja nodded and wiped some of the make-up off her cheek. Klippan walked up to her and inspected the big bruise, which had turned every colour of the rainbow.

‘Jesus Christ…’ He hugged her. ‘Aren’t you going to report him?’

Lilja shook her head.

‘Okay.’ Klippan nodded as though to persuade himself. ‘I assume you’ve thought it through. I guess we’d better get started before that prick comes back.’ He turned around and started walking towards the house. ‘Right, I keep forgetting to ask. Where are you moving to?’

‘To a flat on Carl Krooks Gata in town. I came across it when I was looking for Assar Skanås. By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know who P. Milwokh is, would you?’

‘Milwokh?’ Klippan stopped and turned to Lilja.

‘Yes, my flat’s right next door.’

‘Did you say Milwokh?’

‘Yes. Didn’t I tell you I was ringing his door and he refused to open it?’

Klippan shook his head. ‘Not that I recall.’

‘Well, do you know who it is?’

Klippan pondered that. ‘No. I thought the name sounded familiar for a second, but I probably just imagined it.’

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