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fine. How’s the book coming?’

      ‘It’s a little up and down. But it’s progressing, at least. Everything all right with the kids?’ Erica decided to throw her a sop, at least.

      ‘Emma has a bad cold, but Adrian’s colic seems to be improving. So now I get to sleep an hour a night anyway.’

      Anna laughed but Erica thought she heard an undertone of bitterness.

      There was a moment of silence.

      ‘You know, we have to talk about this thing with the house.’

      ‘Yes, I think so too.’ Now it was Erica’s turn to sound bitter.

      ‘We have to sell it, Erica. If you can’t buy us out then we’ll have to sell it.’

      When Erica didn’t reply, Anna babbled on nervously. ‘Lucas has talked to the estate agent, and he thinks we should set the asking price at three million. Three million, Erica, can you imagine that? With a million and a half as your share you could write in peace and quiet without having to worry about finances. It can’t be easy for you to make a living as a writer. What sort of printings do you have for each book? Two thousand? Three thousand? And you probably don’t make too many kronor per book, do you? Don’t you understand, Erica, this is your big chance too. You’ve always talked about wanting to write a novel. With this money you can take the time. The agent thinks we should wait to show the house until at least April or May to get the most interest, but once we list it the house should sell in a couple of weeks. You understand that we have to do this, don’t you?’

      Anna’s voice sounded imploring, but Erica wasn’t in a sympathetic mood. Her discovery from the day before had kept her awake and worrying half the night. She felt betrayed and grumpy in general.

      ‘No, I don’t understand it, Anna. This is our parents’ home. We grew up here. Mamma and Pappa bought this house when they were newlyweds. They loved this house. And I do too, Anna. You can’t do this.’

      ‘But the money –’

      ‘I don’t give a shit about the money! I’ve managed fine so far, and I intend to continue doing so.’ Erica was so angry now that her voice was shaking.

      ‘But Erica, you must understand that you can’t make me keep the house if I don’t want to. Half of it is mine, after all.’

      ‘If you were the one who wanted to do this, I’d think it was very, very sad, but I would accept your point of view. The problem is that I know that it’s somebody else’s opinions I’m hearing. Lucas is the one who wants to do this, not you. The question is whether you even know what you want. Do you?’

      Erica didn’t bother waiting for Anna’s reply. ‘And I refuse to let my life be controlled by Lucas Maxwell. Your husband is a big fucking shithead! And you bloody well ought to come over here and help me go through Mamma and Pappa’s things. I’ve been at it for weeks, trying to organize everything, and I’m only halfway done. It’s not fair that I have to do it all by myself! If you’re so tied to the stove that you aren’t even allowed to help with your parents’ estate, then you ought to give serious thought to whether this is how you want to live the rest of your life.’

      Erica slammed down the phone so hard that it almost flew off the nightstand. She was so furious she was shaking.

      In Stockholm Anna was sitting on the floor with the phone in her hand. Lucas was at work and the children were asleep, so she had taken the opportunity to ring Erica now that she had some time to herself. It was a conversation she’d been putting off for several days, but Lucas had been nagging her to ring Erica about the house. Finally she gave in.

      Anna felt torn into a thousand pieces, all being pulled in different directions. She loved Erica and she also loved the house in Fjällbacka. What Erica didn’t understand was that she had to put her own family first. There was nothing she was not prepared to do or sacrifice for her children, and if that meant keeping Lucas happy at the cost of her relationship with her big sister, then so be it. Emma and Adrian were the only reason she got up in the morning, the only reason to continue living in this world. If she could only make Lucas happy, everything would work out. She knew that. It was because she was so difficult and didn’t do what he wanted that he was forced to be so hard on her. If she could give him this gift, sacrifice her parents’ home for him, then he would understand how much she was prepared to do for him and her family. And everything would be good again.

      But somewhere deep inside her a voice was saying something entirely different. Anna hung her head and wept, and with her tears she drowned out that faint voice. She left the phone lying on the floor.

      Erica kicked off the covers in annoyance and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She regretted her hard words to Anna, but she was already in a bad mood, and lack of sleep had made her lose her head completely. She tried ringing Anna back to try and patch things up, but got a busy signal.

      ‘Shit!’

      She gave the stool in front of the vanity table an undeserved kick, but instead of feeling better Erica stubbed her toe so badly that she hopped about howling on one foot, holding her sore toe. She was very doubtful that even childbirth could be this painful. When the pain finally ebbed away she got onto the scale against her better judgement.

      She knew that she shouldn’t, but the masochist inside her forced her to find out for sure. She took off the T-shirt she slept in. It always added a few extra ounces, and she even wondered whether her knickers would make any difference. Probably not. She stepped on with her right foot first but kept some of her weight on the left foot that was still on the floor. Gradually she transferred her weight to the right foot, and when the needle reached sixty kilos she wished she could let it stay there. But no. When she finally put all her weight on the scale, it mercilessly read seventy-three. Okay. As she had feared, over one kilo worse. She had guessed about one, but the scale showed over two kilos more than the last time she weighed herself, which was on the morning she found Alex.

      Since then, she had felt it was very, very unnecessary to weigh herself. Not because she hadn’t noticed from her waistband that she had gained weight, but up until the moment when she saw it in black and white, denial was a welcome companion. Dampness in the closet or shrinkage due to excessive washing temperature had served her well as excuses countless times in the past. Right now it merely felt hopeless, and she had a good mind to cancel dinner that evening with Patrik. When she saw him she wanted to feel sexy and pretty and thin, not bloated and fat. She gloomily looked at her stomach and tried sucking it in as far as she could. Useless. She looked at herself in profile in the full-length mirror and tried instead to pooch out her stomach as much as she could. There, that’s the image that matched how she felt right now.

      With a sigh, she pulled on a pair of loose jogging trousers with a forgiving stretch waistband and put on the same T-shirt she’d slept in. She promised herself that on Monday, she’d do something about her weight again. Starting now was no good, she’d already planned to serve a three-course dinner tonight and she had to admit: if you want to dazzle a man with your cooking, then cream and butter are essential ingredients. Besides, Monday was a good day to start a new life. For the hundred-thousandth time she made a solemn promise to herself that on Monday she would start exercising and stay on her Weight Watchers diet. But not today.

      A bigger problem was the reason why she’d almost worried herself sick since yesterday. She had turned over all the options, pondering what she should do, but without coming up with any solution. She suddenly knew something that she sincerely wished she had never found out.

      The coffee began to smell good from the coffeemaker, and life seemed a shade brighter. Amazing what a little of that hot beverage could do. She poured a cup and drank it black with great enjoyment as she stood by the kitchen worktop. She had never been much for breakfast; that would save her a few calories for this evening.

      When the doorbell rang she was so startled that she spilled a little coffee on her T-shirt. She swore out loud, wondering who it could be at this hour of the morning. She glanced at the kitchen clock. Eight-thirty. She set down the cup and opened the door. There on the porch stood Julia

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