She also gave her a greyish-white frieze jacket of the type the patients had to drape over themselves when they were led from one wing to another, and some pinafores, which Ingrid didn’t think she would have any use for, but accepted all the same, and a jumper, four pairs of socks, five headscarves, a sou’wester and some underwear, which Eva Sofie said she didn’t need any more, even though it looked brand new, and she cried when Ingrid dressed on Friday morning and appeared wearing an outfit of ordinary clothes, which neither she herself nor the others thought suited her, with the exception of Ada and Signy, who had also come to say goodbye. Ingrid asked Eva Sofie:

“What are you howling at?”

“I don’t know,” Eva Sofie said, handing her a round tin with children’s drawings on the lid of a Christmas tree and a number of rocking horses, it contained cakes and didn’t fit into the suitcase, she had to carry it under her arm.

5

The initial part of the journey was by a combination of bus and truck, it was the first time Ingrid had been in a motorised vehicle, unless she had arrived at the hospital by the same means, this is the question she is asking herself now, with three other women, whom she can’t remember, nor can she remember what clothes she was wearing.

The town had been bombed to pieces and burned down and was in such a dire state of recovery beneath half a metre of fresh snow that it looked like a rugged mountain landscape. They waded through what had once been a main street, Ingrid, two carers and Erik Falc, who had to collect a patient from the same boat that Ingrid would take, she knew he didn’t usually do this himself.

He was carrying her suitcase, holding on to his hat and complaining about the weather, while Ingrid held her face up to the dry snow and felt it on her skin again. Around her head she had two scarves with the sou’wester she had been given by Eva Sofie on top, while the sturdy boots on her feet had enough room for three pairs of socks.

They were standing on the edge of the quay on the lookout for the boat in the misty harbour when Erik Falc suddenly said they should have their photographs taken.

Ingrid stared at him, both of their faces were bright red in the cold, so there was not a great deal she could read from the expression on his face, and the two carers were looking elsewhere.

“In these?” Ingrid said, indicating her clothes.

He nodded and said there was a photographer’s on the corner, they were waiting for them, he wanted a souvenir.

“Of me?” Ingrid said.

He was unable to bring himself to say yes.