It was cold. So cold it was hard to breathe. Snot froze to icicles. We were taking the shortcut across the lake. The springice was up. Thick floes were drifting colliding and leaving gaps with open water. Death waits for you in the gaps mother said. Careful when you jump. I jumped and landed on a floe. Mother jumped and landed on another floe. Mine was floating away or maybe it was hers. I was freezing cold. Wanted to slide into the water to warm up. I put my finger in it. Thirtyseven degrees. I didn’t even bother with undressing. Just sank in the lovely warm water.

But like everything else it grew cooler with time. Like dough left for too long. I felt cold now. Treading water was tiring. My clothes clung to my body. Pulled me down towards the gap mother called the sea of fire. No resurrection exists down there. Nor forgiveness. 262

I didn’t have the strength. Couldn’t fight. Tumbled towards the bottom. Father was down there caught in a net. He stared at me looking just like the horse on his way to slaughter. Save me his eyes begged. Do something to save me.

I tugged and tore but nothing I did could get him out of the tightly tied fishing net. When my lungs were almost out of oxygen I swam upwards and left him down there to drown.

263

FORTYFIVE

A sound woke me.

At first I couldn’t work out where it came from. Then I did. It was my ringtone. My mobile lay next to me on the floor. I pressed a key.

It’s göran. We were meeting. I’m outside your house but the door is locked. Are you in.

I think so I said. I wasn’t sure who he might be or where I was.

What’s up he asked. Aren’t you well. Mum said they had sent someone today who wasn’t you.

My mind grew a little less dim. My body was hurting all over. The pain in my lungs made speaking seem too hard. Or was it in my stomach my back my throat.

I think I’m dying I said. Please can you help me. I’m aching everywhere. Especially my back.

I heard him pull at the door handle.

Is there a spare key he asked. I didn’t know. Fatigue took over. The phone slipped out of my hand.

I was wandering in the valley of waste with worms crawling around my ankles. Allanberg was crying on top of a heap of goldwire with a photograph in his hand. It had faded. But her lips were red.