Dan was in the bathroom. He’d had a shower and was standing in front of the mirror combing his hair. He’d refused to cut it ever since they arrived, and by now he looked like a hippie. It had been this long once before, over twelve years ago, when their relationship was still pretty new. Dan had lost his job, and had declared that he wasn’t going to get a haircut until he found a new post. It had taken a good six months, by which time both Dan and his hairstyle had changed beyond recognition.

Malin thought back to what she’d said when unemployment threatened to break him.

‘You can’t give up. Things don’t happen by themselves.’

The fact that he’d become so weak so quickly had terrified her. Did she really love this man? Was he the kind of person she ought to invest in? Would he be able to shoulder responsibility for their relationship, their life together? Would he want to? Then came the day when his face lit up; he had an interview. The day Malin found out she was pregnant. She’d pushed aside all her doubts; she didn’t have time to worry about their future, it would have to take care of itself. On the whole it had gone pretty well. Their careers had flourished, their life had been so perfect that she’d sometimes wondered how one family could be granted so much happiness.

With hindsight, she knew better. Life was like any bank. If you withdrew too much, one day you would discover that the account was empty.

‘Why don’t you answer when I call you?’

Dan blinked at his reflection.

‘I didn’t hear you.’

‘Nonsense – of course you did.’

Malin wanted to cry, to sit down on the cold tiles and let the tears flow, but she couldn’t do it. Her legs refused to bend and her eyes were dry.

Dan walked past her into their room. He dropped the towel on the bed and pulled on a pair of underpants. Malin had no idea when they’d last had sex. Or when she’d last reminded him not to drop his wet towel on the bed.

Things that had once been important no longer seemed to matter. She followed him and closed the bedroom door behind them.

‘We need to talk,’ she said.

He stiffened, then began to pick out the clothes he wanted to wear. Shirt and trousers. No socks. His feet were just as white as hers. They didn’t look as if they belonged to a living person. That was why Malin always wore socks – so she didn’t have to see what their stay in this house was costing them.

She searched for the right words. It didn’t go too well.

‘We . . . we have to start doing something.’

Dan stared at her.

‘Like what?’

‘Something. Anything.’