‘Shhh,’ Klara says and pulls back, freeing herself from Gabriella’s arms. She puts a finger on Gabriella’s lips and cradles her cheek; her palm still caked with cold, stiff mud.

‘You came,’ she says quietly. ‘You’re here now. You’re always here, Gabi, even when you’re not.’

Gabriella turns her face to Klara. ‘He was like a father, your grandfather,’ she says.

Klara nods. ‘Perhaps more,’ she says. ‘Grandpa and Grandma. I didn’t get to have any parents, but what they gave me…’ Klara shakes her head and closes her eyes. ‘I can’t even say what I mean,’ she says. ‘And now he’s gone…’

She turns to Gabriella again, opening her eyes.

‘But there’s relief as well. He wasn’t made for the life he led in his final month. He was meant for wind and boats and seabirds. Not for hospitals. He hated it all so much, Gabi. So damn much.’

Gabriella nods. ‘Your grandma seemed to be doing well when I saw her?’ she says. ‘Like you. I mean, under the circumstances. Composed.’

Klara nods. ‘They’ve known about it since last spring,’ she says. ‘She’s grieving, but I think she’s also relieved.’

‘They knew about the cancer? But didn’t they tell you?’

Klara nods, feels snowflakes melting and flowing down her cheeks. ‘They always knew there was no cure,’ she says quietly, barely more than a whisper. ‘But, well, you know.’

She turns to Gabi again.

‘They didn’t want to burden me. They probably thought I wouldn’t be able to bear it. And maybe they were right. I wasn’t doing so well. As you know. Last summer. Or before that.’

She shakes her head, and Gabriella pushes Klara’s long black bangs to the side and tucks them behind an ear. ‘I like this new, shorter hair on you,’ she whispers. ‘If I wore my hair like that I’d look like an old lady. But you look so glamorous, like a movie star. Very Natalie Portman.’

They stand in silence after that, facing the stone fences and grey fields, the bare trees, and in the distance not visible from the church, but somehow ever-present, the sea. Eventually, Klara turns back to Gabriella again and lays her head on her shoulder, her nose brushing against the cold skin just below her ear. ‘I’m feeling better now,’ she whispers. ‘Despite Grandpa. Despite the grief, I feel better than I have in years. Everything that happened in the summer with the riots and the Russians and Säpo. I thought I was going to collapse, Gabi.’

‘But you didn’t,’ Gabriella says, leaning her head against Klara’s.

‘I didn’t because you stepped in,’ Klara said. ‘Because you took care of everything. The journalists and morning shows and all that attention. That’s why I didn’t collapse.’