Faye was fiddling with her mobile, looking at pictures of her and Jack’s wedding. Their tanned, hopeful faces. The stylish, radiant guests. Expressen had sent a photographer; he had taken a picture from one of the hotel balconies. She would have preferred a smaller wedding, in Sweden. She would even have considered a registry office. But Jack had insisted on a big wedding in Italy. In a house overlooking Lake Como. Four hundred guests, only a handful of whom she knew. Strangers congratulating and air-kissing her behind her veil.

Jack had chosen her dress. A meringue fantasy in silk and toile, specially made for her by Lars Wallin. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t her. If the choice had been left to her, she would have picked something much simpler. But when she saw the look on Jack’s face as she walked toward him she was happy she hadn’t gone against his wishes.

She put her mobile down. Jack was going to be there any minute. He would run a hand through his hair, sit down, put his arm around her, and apologize for being late. For letting her sit here alone, waiting.

“We will bear happiness and unhappiness together,” as he had said in his beautiful speech at the wedding, a speech that made the female guests cry and look enviously at Faye.

She was the oldest of the women waiting, and the only one without a man by her side. Apart from a young girl who looked no older than sixteen at most, who had her mother with her. Boyfriends held their girlfriends, lovingly stroking the backs of their hands. Talking in low voices with sombre, attentive expressions. Everyone felt that something extremely private was being exposed to public scrutiny. Wanted to be alone. Without anyone looking on. Without anyone wondering. Every so often a nurse would come out and call someone’s name. The rest of them would watch as she walked off.

Faye’s name was called and she glanced quickly at her phone again. No text from Jack. No missed call. She did a double-check that she actually had coverage.

She stood up and followed the nurse into a room. As she answered the introductory questions, she wondered if the nurse recognized her. Not that it made any difference. Faye assumed she was under an oath of confidentiality.

“Is anyone coming to pick you up later?” the nurse said.

Faye looked down at the table. She felt embarrassed, without knowing why.

“Yes. My husband.”

The fluorescent lights in the ceiling cast a cold light on the paper-covered bed.

“Okay. Some people like to walk around the corridors a bit to speed the process up and keep the pain under control. Just let me know if you need anything and I’ll keep an extra eye on you.”

“Thanks,” Faye said.

She still couldn’t look the nurse in the eye. But how could she explain why she was there on her own? She didn’t even understand why herself.

“You took the tablet yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Good, here’s the second one.”

A pill in a plastic cup and a warm hand on her shoulder. She fought against the urge to lay her head in the nurse’s lap and cry. Instead she popped the pill into her mouth without looking at it.

“Take these as well,” the nurse said, putting some painkillers in front of her.

Faye swallowed them. She was used to swallowing.

—

Faye was lying down on a large yellow piece of furniture that resembled an armchair, looking up at the ceiling. At least she hadn’t had to lie on the green table and was grateful for the chance to lie undisturbed behind a screen. They had put a pair of diaper-like padded pants on her to catch the blood, and she could already feel herself bleeding. At the ultrasound the nurse had told her how old the embryo was, but she hadn’t paid attention to how many weeks, she didn’t want to know.

Where are you? she texted Jack.

No answer.

Something must have happened. Had he had an accident? She called the babysitter and asked how Julienne was.

“She’s fine, we’re watching a film.”

“And Jack?” Faye tried to sound unconcerned. Blood was seeping out between her legs as she talked. Soaked up by the diaper. “Has he been in touch?”

“No. I thought he was with you?”

She tried calling Henrik. He didn’t answer either. Thoughts were bouncing about in her head. She imagined two stony-faced police officers knocking on the door and apologetically informing her that Jack was dead. What would she do then? A feeling of déjà vu. The same anxiety as when Julienne was born.

Julienne had been expected to arrive in early June. Jack had been very loving throughout the pregnancy, even if he didn’t always have enough time for all the checkups and practical matters involved in a pregnancy. Compare had reached a crucial stage of development and Faye understood that the company had to come first now that they were expecting a child and he was determined to build something up for his family.

Jack had been at the office when the first contractions came. At first Faye hadn’t realized that was what they were, she assumed they were more of the vague preliminary aches that had come and gone during the previous month or so. But then they became so strong that she had to hold onto the kitchen counter to stop herself from collapsing.

Bent almost double, she had called Jack. The phone rang and rang until eventually she got his voicemail. She sent a text telling him to come at once, guessing that he was in a meeting. When she called Danderyd Hospital they told her she had to come in, but she didn’t want to go without Jack. She had imagined him helping her into their car, then nervously swearing at the traffic as they rushed to the maternity unit. Toward their first encounter with their longed-for child.

The contractions got worse with each passing minute but her phone remained silent. Neither Jack nor Henrik were answering her calls or texts. In the end she called Chris and asked if she could go with her and stay until Jack arrived.

Quarter of an hour later Chris rushed into the apartment, out of breath, in high heels and wearing a leopard-print coat. She half-dragged, half-carried Faye down the stairs. When they were sitting in the taxi on the way to Danderyd, Faye realized that she had forgotten the carefully packed bag that had been standing ready for the past two months. She ordered the driver to turn back, but Chris snapped at him to ignore Faye and just drive as fast as he could. You can always buy replacements for whatever was in that bag, she said, pointing out that children were born all the time without great long lists of equipment.

Chris had taken over the job of chasing Jack, and she called and texted him frantically. As the taxi pulled up outside the hospital she put the phone back in her bag.

“He knows where we are,” she said. “He knows what’s happening. Now we need to focus on getting you into the maternity ward before you give birth here in this taxi, okay?”

Faye nodded numbly. Pain was washing over her like an immense wave, and she couldn’t concentrate on anything beyond breathing.

She felt oddly detached as she got out of the car, clutching Chris’s arm tightly. In the distance she could hear Chris shouting and ordering the staff around as they entered a corridor. She’d probably have to apologize afterward, but right now Chris’s shrill falsetto was the only source of comfort she had.

Julienne arrived five hours later. Five hours of pain that left Faye alternately fearing and longing for death. Chris stayed by her side the whole time. Wiping the sweat from her brow, asking for pain relief, yelling at the midwife, massaging her back, helping her with the gown and keeping track of the contractions. And when Julienne appeared Chris cut the umbilical cord, carefully passed her to Faye, and made sure she was in the right position to suckle. It was the only time Faye had ever seen Chris cry.

Two hours later a shamefaced Jack arrived at the hospital. He was carrying the biggest bouquet of roses Faye had ever seen. One hundred perfect red roses, so many that the staff couldn’t find a vase large enough. He stared at his shoes, his bangs fell across his face, and Faye felt all her anger and disappointment drain away.

Jack mumbled something about meetings, his phone running out of battery, a whole series of unfortunate circumstances. He seemed crushed, and Faye couldn’t help thinking that he was the one who had lost out, when it came down to it. He had missed the birth of the most beautiful baby the world had ever seen.

Very carefully, she handed Julienne over. She was wrapped in a blanket, and was snuffling happily after her first meal outside the womb. Jack sobbed so hard that his shoulders shook, but Chris stood behind him with her arms folded. Faye quickly looked away from her friend and watched her husband instead as he held their newborn daughter in his arms. It was obvious he loved her. No one was perfect.