‘You can’t dwell on that, Gudrun. The statute of limitation on that passed a long time ago. Conscience-wise. That’s what we agreed. That you should let it go. You told the police what happened and no one thought you or Susso had done anything wrong. If you had, you would have been charged, and you weren’t.’

‘I didn’t tell them about the squirrel. The police.’

He leaned back and crossed his arms.

‘No, because then the nice men in white coats would have come for you.’

‘I’ve come to the conclusion – lying awake, going over everything again and again, like I’ve been doing almost every night for ten years now – that it was all the squirrel’s fault. He’s who made Susso do what she did. It’s the squirrel’s fault Susso’s become what she’s become.’

‘Here we go again.’

‘I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s a monster.’

‘I know.’

‘But it’s actually not that simple.’

My coffee had gone cold, so I put it in the microwave and while the cup rotated in there, I contemplated whether I should tell him what happened or continue to keep my mouth shut. I added a splash of milk and sat down and realised I’d passed the point of no return.

‘When we got to Susso’s yesterday, there was someone there. A man, a young man. He was sitting in her bed, saying he was going to live there; it was very unsettling. And Håkan, he strangled that man.’

‘Now hold on.’

‘He strangled him. Like this. And I watched.’

Roland took off his glasses and put them down on the table. He watched me without speaking. Picked up one of the temples of his glasses and tapped it against the table, and he did it thoughtfully. Like a tentative signaller.

‘Then we buried him the garden.’

Without a word, he stood up and walked over to the pantry; I heard him take down a bottle and put his cup on the counter and fill it up and knock it back. Then he came back and sat down with the bottle. It was whisky. He poured me a slug and then another for himself.

‘Håkan thought he’d done something to Diana at first. Something terrible. Because he just sat there on the bed, not speaking. Like he was ashamed of something. And he had tattoos. A spiderweb tattoo on his elbow and snakes and whatever else. He didn’t exactly look innocent.’

‘But he was.’

‘Apparently. And that’s why I didn’t jump for joy when I got that text from Håkan this morning, which said they were fine and on their way back. If they had been in trouble and he had been involved somehow, maybe I could have lived with it. That’s going to be much harder now.’

‘It’s not like you killed him.’