Julienne picked up the newspaper and peered at the pictures on the front.

What would happen if she was pregnant? How would Jack react? When they first met he had said he wanted four children. But once they had Julienne he didn’t seem very interested in having any more. They hadn’t even talked about it. So what about her, then? Did she want more children? Yes, she did. Especially now. A little brother or sister for Julienne could be the catalyst that brought her and Jack back together again, and finally put an end to the strange limbo they were in.

And it would do Julienne good to have a brother or sister. They could become best friends. She had always wished she’d had a sister. An ally.

Faye quickly brushed the thought away. She had learned to shut down such thoughts, not to let her mind wander. It did no good at all to think about things she couldn’t do anything about.

—

When they got back to the apartment Julienne dropped the newspaper and her coat on the hall floor. Faye hung the coat on its hook, carried the bags into the kitchen, and started to unpack. From the corner of her eye she saw Julienne come out from her room with her iPad, then throw herself on the sofa, still with her boots on.

“Take your shoes off before you get on the sofa,” Faye said.

No answer. She put the frying pan down and went into the living room. She started to remove Julienne’s wet, dirty winter boots.

“I don’t want to!”

Julienne kicked out, hitting the sofa with her boots and making dirty, muddy marks. Shit, now she’d have to wash and dry the covers before Jack got home. She grew more heavy-handed. There was mud on the rug as well.

“Don’t want to! Don’t want to! Don’t want to!”

Julienne carried on screaming and kicking out wildly.

Faye managed to get the boots off and lifted Julienne down from the sofa, but she threw herself back on it, still shouting. Faye went into the kitchen and came back with a dishcloth. Maybe she’d be able to wipe the dirt off the fabric if she was quick. She ignored Julienne. To her great relief she managed to get the worst of it off the sofa, and bent down to try to get the carpet clean. Julienne kicked out at her and she managed to catch her leg.

“You don’t do that!”

“I do!”

The darkness rolled in. It was simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar. Faye swallowed hard. Clenched her hands several times.

Julienne must have noticed the difference because she was staring at Faye, sniffing.

Faye wiped the rug with the dishcloth again. Pushed her hair back and turned away from Julienne.

“You’re fat,” Julienne said.

Faye turned round.

“What did you say?”

Julienne stared at her defiantly.

“Fatty.” She pointed at her. “You’re a fatty.”

Faye took a step toward her. “No, I’m not. You don’t say things like that!”

“Yes, you are! Daddy says so!”

“Has Daddy said I’m fat?”

Her voice had become so thin. All of a sudden she didn’t know what to do, just stood helpless in the middle of the room. Julienne seemed to realize that she’d gone too far and started to cry.

Faye stumbled away. Everything was spinning. She hardly knew where she was. Behind her she heard Julienne calling to her in between sobs.

She shut herself in the bathroom. Locked the door and leaned her forehead against the door for a few seconds. Let the cool wood soothe her. She took out the pregnancy test. Julienne was standing outside the door, banging and screaming. Faye pulled her trousers and panties down to her ankles. Sat down on the toilet and opened the packet with her teeth. She held the stick between her legs, relaxed, and let the warm urine flow over the stick, not bothered that it was splashing her fingers. Julienne went on shouting outside the door.

STOCKHOLM, AUGUST 2001

I SAT ON THE BUS, watching the cars rushing past outside. The air was humid and warm. The driver had opened the window in the roof to let more air in, but it made very little difference, just a slight breeze on my shoulder. Beside me sat a large, sweaty woman with a crying child on her lap.

We passed Humleg?rden. Where Jack and I had walked. I had replayed that night in my mind hundreds of times.

Since then I had taken every chance I could get to go to Chinatown—the district between the School of Economics and Norra Real School—in the hope of bumping into Jack. But he hadn’t shown up.

Apart from that, life was fun, exciting for the first time. Studying was easy, but it always had been. Ever since I first started school that had been my refuge, the place where I could excel without effort. The professors were full of praise. The courses were enjoyable and interesting, I was having a great time.

Chris and I spent almost all our free time together. Neither of us needed to study particularly hard. Chris because she was happy to just pass. And in my case because ever since childhood I had only had to read a text a couple of times to remember it in its entirety.

Viktor’s starring role in my life had dwindled to a walk-on part. I couldn’t quite put my finger on exactly what had changed, but after my encounter with Jack my feelings for Viktor had grown cooler. I kept my distance. Invented nonexistent tests to justify why I didn’t have time to see him. I avoided his calls and let days pass before answering them. I delayed the idea of moving in with him until he stopped talking about it.

My coldness changed Viktor, it made him pathetic and insecure. He became more desperate, clingy, as I grew colder. Our relationship was dying, but he clung to me as if he were drowning. He called me at all hours, showered me with gifts and declarations of love, constantly asked where I was and what I was doing. He suddenly started to ask me about my past, my family, my life before him. I refused to answer. What could I say? But my coldness, my reluctance to tell him anything about myself only made him more desperate. I became a code for him to crack. It was as if he thought I’d love him again if only he could break the code.

The worst of it was that there wasn’t really anything wrong with Viktor. He was handsome, kind, and ambitious. He treated me like a princess. He was faithful and reliable—unusual qualities in Stockholm’s jungle.

But he wasn’t Jack Adelheim. And I realized that I was going to have to dump him. I had been putting it off. But I couldn’t postpone it any longer.

By the time the bus pulled in at Tessin Park I was in no doubt. Hurting him wasn’t going to be pleasant, but I had to put an end to it.

“Excuse me, this is my stop,” I said.

The woman with the child stood up with an effort to let me past. She looked tired and fed up. Rolls of fat were clearly visible under her tight white T-shirt, spilling over her jeans. The child was dribbling. Green snot was hanging like bunches of grapes from its nose. Dear God. I was never going to be a mother like that. And my child would always be perfect. Jack’s and my child. I flinched, blushing with shame at my embarrassing daydreams. But all my dreams were about Jack these days. Both while I was asleep and when I was awake. There was no longer any space left for someone like Viktor.

The doors opened with a sigh and I was hit by the blazing sun. Viktor was going to meet me in the middle of Tessin Park, like he usually did. I imagined him walking out of his apartment. Happy, thinking we were going to get pizza together. Then go home and have sex. Watch a film, more sex, then fall asleep together. None of that was going to happen.

I felt sorry for him on an intellectual level, but I didn’t feel anything. My desire for Jack overshadowed everything else, making me indifferent. And the new version of Viktor irritated me. He had grown up in his protected little bubble, everything had been so easy for him. His na?veté had been the first thing that attracted me to him, but now it just annoyed me. He knew nothing about life, whereas I knew far too much. Viktor had no idea of who I was. Or what I was.

He was wearing a denim shirt and pale chinos. He grinned, then leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, putting his arm around me. “You’re taking your studies far too seriously. Which pizzeria do you feel like? Valhalla or Theodoras?”

“I need to talk to you,” I said. “Let’s go and sit down.”

I pulled him over to a green bench. Viktor turned to face me and took his sunglasses off. He folded them carefully and put them in his top pocket. His eyes were darting about.

“Has anything happened? Are you okay?” he asked, acting as if he didn’t know what I was about to say.

A short distance away a group of alcoholics were playing bocce and drinking wine. Happy, hoarse voices.

“I don’t want to go out with you anymore. It’s over.”

I heard how cold I sounded, and made an effort to seem sad. Viktor was staring blankly ahead of him.

“Okay . . . Is it something I’ve done?”

He shuffled uncomfortably on the bench. Avoided my gaze. Swallowed. Then swallowed again.