‘He needs to know he can trust us,’ she continued. ‘This is our chance to prove ourselves.’

Stava opened the refrigerator. It was empty apart from four cans of beer at the very back.

‘What I did to that child,’ he said, ‘it wasn’t me doing it. I wasn’t myself. And now that Ransu doesn’t exist any more, I don’t think I’m capable of kidnapping someone.’

‘We’re not kidnapping her. We’re just fetching her.’

‘Fetching?’

‘We’re fetching her. It’s our child now.’

‘Do you realise how many police officers are going to be looking for her? And her mum, she’s been to the village. It’s the first place they’re going to look, can’t you see that?’

‘No one’s going to look for her.’

‘Children going missing, that’s a big deal.’

Stava closed the box and pushed it against the wall with her foot.

‘We’re going to make sure she knows how it’s going to be. If she lets the girl go, she will have a long and not too miserable life. If she doesn’t let her go, it won’t be very long at all. It’s that simple. A no-brainer.’

Anders said nothing. Then he got up and left the kitchen. There was a sofa in the living room; he sat down on it.

The sun was on the TV, reflecting a cold, dark version of the sparsely furnished room where he was sitting like the morose subject of an achromatic painting.

After a while, the front door slammed again.

Näcken stepped into the hallway. He shot Anders a disapproving look before walking out into the kitchen with heavy steps.

He had brought food. Tin-foil containers with greasy paper lids that he took out of a paper bag and lined up on the kitchen counter. Anders stood watching him like a hungry dog.

Näcken sat down at the table and dug in. The new smells piqued the interest of the little ones, who slunk into the kitchen, one after the other. One of the smallest ones was completely hairless and one of the shrews had ugly bald patches on its back. By kicking his boot gently and stamping his feet on the floor, Näcken kept the mice gathering around the table legs at bay.

‘Be careful,’ said Stava, who was standing with her back against the fridge.

Näcken glanced in under the table and when he spotted the deathly pale munchkin moving with a peculiarly hobbled gait, he stopped chewing instantly and just sat there with his mouth open. Then he bent down and offered the palm of his hand as a lift.

He let the little one down on the table top. Its face was wrinkled like a mummified mouse foetus.

‘Have any more …’ he said, making a circling motion with his index finger.

‘Not that I know.’

‘We’ll give it a few more hours.’