For a long time Fredrika had been convinced that people could just as easily live alone or as part of a couple, and therefore she had never compromised when it came to love and relationships. Love was a bonus, not an essential, and it definitely wasn’t something you could order up with a click of the fingers. The years with Spencer had changed her. She had begun to love being part of a couple. Not just any couple, but the two of them. The idea of replacing Spencer was as ridiculous as the thought of replacing her mother if she died. It was impossible, it couldn’t be done. Love wasn’t something to be pursued, as far as Fredrika was concerned; it simply created itself, and sometimes people were lucky enough to experience that process. She couldn’t imagine it happening more than once in a lifetime.

‘Tell me about tomorrow,’ Alex said.

‘The service is in the afternoon, then dinner. Lots of people will be at the church, but not everyone will stay around.’

‘So the apartment will be full of overnight guests?’

‘No. Some of Spencer’s friends from overseas are coming, but they’re staying in a hotel.’

Alex looked at Fredrika.

‘I’d love to visit you in London.’

‘I’d like that too. I’ll even play for you.’

They sat in silence again, then Alex just had to say what had been on his mind.

‘Peder.’

‘I think about him sometimes,’ Fredrika said.

‘We’ll never nail him.’

‘But at least Ross’s trial is due to start soon.’

‘The prosecutor is going for a custodial sentence of twelve years. I can’t see Ross being able to handle that,’ Alex said.

‘But the Johansson family – they’re okay?’

‘Not the father, obviously.’

‘No, but . . .’

‘The others are okay, but no more than that.’

Fredrika hesitated, but she had to ask.

‘What do we do if we bump into Peder? What do we say?’

Alex shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea.’

*

The funeral took place the next day. The sun shone once more, and Fredrika dressed the children in bright clothes. The church was full, and she wondered who all these people were. Alex and Berlin were in the pew behind her, and when the cantor began to play the introduction to the first hymn and Fredrika burst into tears, she felt Alex’s hand on her shoulder.

‘It will get better,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Trust me, it will get better.’

Maybe that was true, maybe not.

Two weeks later Fredrika was on a plane heading for London, with a child on either side of her.

Saga had the window seat, and pointed at the big, fluffy clouds beneath them.

‘Is that where Daddy is now?’ she asked.

Who knows.

‘Yes,’ Fredrika replied. ‘Daddy’s there now instead of with us.’

‘Let’s wave to him!’ Saga said.

So they did.

Chapter 2