She told him she had been in an accident and asked if she could borrow a phone. A round-eyed woman in a knee-length nightgown was moving about in the background. She thought they were going to hand her a phone, but they invited her in. Then they sat in silence, watching her, while she tried to remember Håkan’s phone number. It took a while for it to come back to her.

He answered with his full name and when he heard her voice, he broke off. Then he said hi. No joy whatsoever. Just a quiet hi, followed by static. No questions, nothing. At first, she was confused, didn’t he understand it was her calling? Was he in shock? The thought made her angry. He had no right to be shocked, that right was reserved for her. But she didn’t want to yell and she wasn’t sure what kind of insane accusations might slip out if she did. The only thing she could think of to say was: What’s the matter? An absurd question given what she had just been through. As though their roles had been reversed.

‘Nothing. Where are you?’

‘I’m in Norway. I think.’

The man and the woman nodded confirmation.

‘But I’m on my way home.’

‘Why are you in Norway?’

There was a stabbing pain in her jaw when she chuckled.

‘I don’t know.’

Strangely enough, that reply seemed to satisfy him. Because he asked no further questions.

‘When will you be home?’ he said.

‘As soon as I can.’

‘Good.’

She gave the phone back to the man. Call ended, it said. She tried to collect her thoughts and after a while, she had to sit down. They wanted to know what had happened to her and if they should call the police. Had someone attacked her, did she want something to drink?

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much.’

Smiling was painful, but she did it anyway. She felt they may not have let her go otherwise. She staggered out of the motorhome, climbed into her car and drove away.

She hadn’t gone far before she pulled over. She was in the middle of nowhere. Moorland, infinite in its emptiness. As though the sky were projecting a green image of itself on Earth.

She stepped out of the car, opened the back door, crawled in and lay down on the seat. Then she sat back up and lay down the other way, with the battered side of her face up. She wiggled around until she found the least uncomfortable position.

When her body started to relax, it was as if all her energy was redirected to her face. She could feel it growing, rising like proving dough. The moment she drifted off, she slipped into a dream, which she woke from immediately. Then she fell asleep once more.

Ipa was more or less constantly…