She hadn’t called. And Tina, who didn’t want to be a nuisance, thought it best not to ring Malin in case she was busy. Instead she’d sent a text wishing them the best trip ever. A text that didn’t get a reply. She texted again a few days later asking for their address so that she could send them some Swedish treats the children particularly liked. No reply. They’d already found a house and were planning to move in before the school term began and they both started working full time, but hadn’t got round to passing on the address to their nearest and dearest.

If only I’d been more interested, Noah thought. If only I’d been more positive, shared their enthusiasm about the adventure.

Tina hadn’t stayed long, but they’d arranged to meet up again. Before then Noah would try to speak to Alex Recht, hoping to find a new point of access to the police.

The phone rang several times before anyone answered.

‘Alex Recht – I can’t talk right now, but if you give me your name and number I’ll call you back.’

‘Hello . . . My name is Noah Johansson and I’m a funeral director. I . . . Am I disturbing you?’

Alex was clearly surprised. When he spoke again, his voice had changed.

‘I remember you,’ he said slowly. ‘Very well, in fact. My children and I thought you were fantastic. You really helped us.’

Noah blushed, mainly because he was embarrassed at how happy Alex’s words made him; such accolades always meant too much. But also because he felt a little spark of hope, the hope that Alex would be the one who listened.

Alex was speaking quietly to another person. Noah pressed the phone to his ear, wishing he’d gone to the police station and tried to see Alex in person.

‘Listen, Noah, things are a bit tricky at the moment – can I call you later or tomorrow?’

Noah thought about all the days that had passed since his brother disappeared, and now Alex wanted to waste even more time.

‘No problem,’ he said.

He tried not to let his disappointment come through, but of course it did.

‘Has something happened?’ Alex asked.

Noah hesitated. How could he explain that the situation had been critical for weeks?

‘My brother’s gone missing.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘My brother Dan has gone missing. Together with his entire family. They’re supposed to be in Australia, but that’s not true.’

Even though he was telling the story exactly as it was, he suddenly felt doubtful. It seemed so improbable.

‘That sounds terrible,’ Alex said, but the warmth in his voice had gone. ‘It would be better if you call the main switchboard number, tell them you want to report a missing person, then someone will look into—’