‘Bollocks,’ Karl says after three interminable seconds and slams his glass down so hard it spills. ‘I wasn’t thinking . . . all I meant was . . . I’m sorry.’

‘It’s OK,’ Sigrid says. ‘It’s not your fault Mum died.’

Karen says nothing. Her pulse is thudding in her ears, and she feels like she’s under water, has carelessly stepped out onto thin ice and immediately plunged into the frigid depths below. As if from a great distance, she can hear the sound of the TV and voices, Karl’s saying something contrite and Sigrid replying reassuringly. They are so close, yet so infinitely far away.

Not daring to breathe, she sits stock-still while she sinks toward the bottom. She’s afraid to reach out and grab her glass, afraid to move, because she would break if she did. Any movement right now and she will dissolve, wither and blow away like flakes of ash on the wind.

Through the chaos she can hear a voice murmuring about lines that must not be crossed, reminding her about the invisible barbed wire encircling her existence. Inside it, Mathis and John still exist. Outside it, there’s nothing. Nothing that’s yours, the voice tells her.

Even though she had known better, she had lowered her guard when Sigrid unexpectedly marched into her life, broken, angry and full of pain. And without a thought to the consequences, she had once again allowed herself to take care of someone, to blow on the injured places and make it all better.

She’s not your daughter, don’t ever forget that.

And now Karl’s voice cuts through the noise. He’s leaning forward, trying to catch her eye.

‘Are you OK, Karen?’

She slowly rises back up toward the surface, breaks through and takes a panting breath. She has done this before, knows how to quickly put on a reassuring smile.

‘I’m just tired,’ she says. ‘It’s been a long day; I actually think I’m going to turn in.’

And with that, she stands up, avoiding Sigrid’s worried eyes, and retreats to her room. Takes off all her clothes and gets in the shower. The tears don’t come until after she has opened the toiletry bag Sigrid has packed for her and squeezed out a dollop of toothpaste, when she catches sight of her own face in the bathroom mirror.

Chapter 41

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