‘Quite a bit then.’

‘I know Susso helped find that boy who was kidnapped. That she took some kind of photograph that helped the police.’

‘I know what you think, Diana. About us. About our family.’

‘What do you mean?’

Gudrun sighed.

‘I suppose you could say Susso was damaged by what happened.’

‘What do you mean, damaged?’

‘She’s not herself. To put it succinctly.’

‘But what is she doing, is she on sick leave or is she working …’

Gudrun shook her head.

‘She does nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Yeah.’

‘But how does she get by?’

‘Would that I knew. She lives in Vittangi.’

‘In Vittangi! Why?’

‘She wants to be left alone. The last time I went out there, I couldn’t believe my eyes when she opened the door. She had lost so much weight I barely recognised her. Her clothes were hanging off her. And her eyes were so black; she looked like when she was little and woke up from the anaesthesia after they took her tonsils out. She looked at me with those big eyes, but it was as though she didn’t see me, or know what dimension she was in.’

‘Could it be drugs?’

‘Drugs. If only.’

Diana raised her eyebrows.

‘She let me into the kitchen and we sat there staring at one another like two strangers. I felt about as welcome as a vacuum salesman. It was obvious she wanted to know why I’d come, but I also had the distinct feeling she wasn’t entirely clear on who I was, and that was deeply unsettling.’

‘My God.’

‘She’s a different person, Diana. It’s not Susso.’

‘Is she living with someone?’

Gudrun didn’t answer straight away. She sipped her coffee and stared off into the distance. The wind soughed through the birch trees and a flock of cumulus clouds drifted into view, spreading a black blanket over the mining mountain.

‘It depends on how you see it.’

‘Does she have a boyfriend?’

‘I have a hard time picturing that.’

‘Is she not in touch with Tobe at all any more?’

‘She’s not in touch with anyone. She doesn’t even have a phone.’

A toddler was trying to climb up the slide, her shoes squeaking against the metal. Kiruna was sitting at the top, patiently waiting to go. And then she went. Straight into the toddler. Diana put her cup down on the bench. But she stopped when she realised there was no crying, and none of the other adults sitting on the benches by the playground reacted.

Gudrun watched the children.

‘Don’t blink, Diana,’ she said. ‘Because when you open your eyes again, she’ll be gone. That’s how fast it happens.’

‘Do you want me to go out there?’