Heloise felt she ought to get up and hug her or something, but she stayed put. She understood Ellen Mossing’s open, raw emotions, but what could she say to a woman who had lost her child, lost the person closest to her?

Everything will be all right?

No, it damn well wouldn’t. Nothing would ever be all right again.

Heloise reached out her hand and placed it on top of Mrs. Mossing’s. “Did you know her? Did you know Anna Kiel?”

Ellen shook her head and withdrew her hand. She got up and walked up to a small chest of drawers in the corner of the conservatory and found an old, yellowing handkerchief from the top drawer.

“No.” She dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief. “But I think that—”

“Ellen? What’s going on?”

Mrs. Mossing was so startled that she dropped the handkerchief, and Heloise turned in the direction of the voice.

Johannes Mossing was standing in the doorway. He was carrying a fig tree in a terra-cotta pot, which he put on the floor, and he looked anxiously at his wife. “Are you crying?”

“No, it’s nothing.” Ellen walked up to her husband and let him embrace her. “I was just going down memory lane, and that makes me sentimental, as you know.”

He looked at her quizzically. “You’re all right, then?”

“Yes, yes. I’m just being silly.” She dismissed the question as though it were an insect that had flown too close to her face. “Come, I want you to meet my guest.”

Heloise got up.

“Hello,” Mr. Mossing said, holding out his hand. “I’m Ellen’s husband. I apologize for interrupting the girl talk, but I thought something serious had happened.”

Heloise shook his hand and nodded politely. “Heloise Kaldan.”

“Kaldan?” He smiled and looked at her through narrowed eyes without letting go of her hand. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you a local girl?”

“No, I’m from Copenhagen.”

“Heloise is a journalist,” Ellen said. “She has come to talk about Christoffer.”

The smile disappeared from Johannes Mossing’s face, and he let go of Heloise’s hand as if he had burned himself on it.

“A journalist,” he echoed. He looked like someone who had just sucked a lemon.

Ellen came to Heloise’s rescue.

“I invited her in, Johannes. I don’t mind talking about what happened.” She patted his arm softly. “You should try it. It might make you feel better.”

Mr. Mossing looked at his wife for a moment without saying anything. Then he turned to Heloise and said, in a neutral voice, “Please leave.”

The housekeeper appeared in the doorway as if by magic.

“I’ll see you out,” she announced with mechanical solemnity.

Heloise didn’t budge.

She and Johannes looked hard at one another.