She fell asleep right away that night. The exhaustion took its toll, but at the same time she felt secure again. In complete control. Nothing could touch her. Everything was already destroyed.

Plan A had gone to hell despite all her struggles in recent years. Now it was Plan B that mattered. She only needed to rethink it a bit. It was up to her if he succeeded in crushing her or not, her own choice. Not that she would ever give him the satisfaction. On the contrary, she would see to it that he paid for his betrayal, both financially and emotionally. She would crush him instead, and then when he was fully aware of what had happened it would be too late. Then he would be left standing there.

Alone.

She woke up when the phone rang. Automatically her eyes looked at the clock radio. Who the hell called people at 6.07 on Saturday morning? Didn't she have any manners?

She reached out for the cordless phone and answered before the second ring.

'Hello.'

Henrik turned over on his side with his back to her and slept on.

Someone was breathing in her ear.

'Hello?'

No answer.

She threw off the covers, got up and left the bedroom. In the office she closed the door behind her.

'Did you want something? If so, it's probably better to say what it is now that you've called and woken us up.'

Utter silence. Yet she could hear that she was still on the other end.

There was so much she had wanted to say. So many words screaming inside in the dark that wanted to get out. But she was forced to restrain herself, not reveal that she knew, otherwise she'd lose her advantage. Plan B would be ruined.

'You can go to hell!'

She hung up.

It was impossible to go back to sleep. She crept in under the covers again and lay for a while staring at the ceiling. Axel cuddled up to her, moving his warm body closer. She turned over on her side and looked at his beautiful, peaceful face. The sudden pressure over her ribcage caught her unaware. She took a few breaths to try and relieve the pain, but the air refused to stay in her lungs. It forced its way out as if unable to stand being inside.

She turned over on her back but the pain increased, radiating out into her left arm and forcing her to grimace. Don't cry, steel yourself now! Think of something, try to concentrate on something else.

Home. Metre by metre she moved through her childhood home, remembering every step on the stairs, the creak of each floorboard. The way the curved handle on the front door felt in her hand, the sound of Mamma's and Pappa's calm voices filtering up through the wooden floor in her room when she went to bed, the way the Bakelite light switch in the old servant's bedroom always slipped back if you didn't turn it round twice.

And then the annihilating knowledge that her own son would never be able to quell his anxiety as an adult by remembering his safe childhood home. She had put so much energy into trying to create a home for him.

He would scarcely remember that once they had been a complete family.

Her failure was unforgivable.

The punishment eternal.

But she had no intention of carrying the blame alone.

Eva.

Her name was Eva.

Why had she lied?

Why had she gone home with him, given him access to her body, made him completely and without reservation admit her into his life, allowed him to reveal himself to her?

He lay on his back in bed and stared up at the ceiling, lay in the bed where they had made love. Where he had made love to her and she had used him, consumed him like an object. Utterly without consideration she had forced her way into his world, knocked over everything, stolen all the desire he had managed to preserve so long and with such great effort.

She was one of them.

One of the women who ruined his family and took his mother away from him.

The strength he thought she had given him had in three letters been transformed into a place vulnerable to attack, an undefended hole leading straight into his deepest fear. The fear whose only equal opponent was the control. His own means of defence.

Like a physical attack he felt the compulsion boring into him. There was nothing left that could withstand it.

He had been so strong only a few hours ago.

Who was this woman, who had claimed the right to inflict this on him?

He had already looked up the phone number in the book.

She lived in Nacka.

A ten-minute drive.

But it was impossible for him to leave the flat.

The first time he dialled the number it was 11.44 at night. He was sitting naked on the bed and the phone stood at a right angle to the right corner of the rug. It rang twice. And then her voice gave sound to the lie.

'Eva.'

So she confessed.

He hung up and felt the rage rising. And then a quick push of the redial button.

'Yes.'

He hung up again. Why had she answered 'Yes' when he called? Her voice cut through him, awakened the devastating longing to live. The memory of her nakedness forced all the blood to his groin, where his desire grew. He lay back on the bed, unable to move. The urge was again an enemy that rose up to mock him and laugh at him.

You are not worthy. No one wants you.

Maybe he slept for a few hours, maybe not.

The next time he called, it was seven minutes past six.

He had to hear her voice.

'Hello.'

He had to.

'Hello?'

No one was going to take this away from him.

'Did you want something? If so, it's probably better to say what it is now that you've called and woken us up.'

He stopped breathing.

Woken us up.

Now that you've called and woken us up.

'You can go to hell!'

On the other end she hung up. She, who the night before had slept with her skin against his, she who had opened the world to a possibility, turned everything into anticipation.

Last night she had slept with someone else who was called us.

Who?

Who was the one who was worthy?

She stayed in bed all morning. When Axel woke up, Henrik followed him out to the living room and turned on the children's programme, but he hadn't come back to bed to steal another hour of sleep as he usually did. Instead she heard the door to the office close and the sound of the computer booting up.

The pain in her chest had subsided, only a vague ache was left.

When the digital numbers on the clock radio had progressed to a quarter to twelve, he suddenly stood in the doorway.

'I'm going out tonight. Micke wanted us to go out for a beer.'

She didn't answer. Just confirmed that his inability to lie was astounding, a pure insult.

'You do that.'

Then he was gone.

She got up, reached for her robe, and went into the kitchen. Axel was sitting on the floor rolling his rubber balls down an invisible course, and Henrik was sitting at the table reading the newspaper.

'I promised Annika I'd call round so we can have a meeting at the day-care tomorrow evening.'

He looked up at her.

'Why's that?'

'Well, what's the alternative?'

He ignored the question and went back to his paper.

She continued.

'If I were Linda, I'd want a chance to explain myself. Wouldn't you?'

If I were Linda.

She silently scoffed.

That was just it.

He turned the page even though he hadn't read a word.

'I just don't understand what you have to do with all this. Why do you have to organise a meeting? You didn't get an email, did you?'

No. But there's a gun cabinet in my cellar full of disgusting love letters to you.

'Because it's Axel's day-care teacher we're talking about. You must realise that it will affect the situation at the day-care centre when this all comes out. If it's true that she sent all those emails, would you have any confidence in her?'

'It's her own business, isn't it?'

'Her own business? Sending unwanted love letters to the children's fathers?'

'Did my day-care teacher do that?' Axel was sitting still on the floor and weighing a light-green rubber ball in his hand.

Henrik gave her a look full of contempt. Or was it pure hatred she saw?

'Great. Just great.'

He got up and left the room. By now she had learned how many steps it took. Eleven from his place at the table to his office, twelve if he took time to close the door behind him.

This time it was twelve.

'What about my day-care teacher?'

She went over and sat down with Axel. Absentmindedly she took a red rubber ball from the floor and made it come out of his ear by magic.

'Wow! And I thought you only had green balls in your ears!'

He smiled.

'Do I have any in the other ear?'

She glanced quickly to the side to find another ball.

'No. The one in there hasn't finished growing yet. The green ones take a little longer to grow.'

She took the cordless phone and the day-care list out on to the balcony and sat there making her calls. She had pulled a cardigan over her shoulders. It was warm for March, and after she had sat there a while she took off the cardigan and put it on the bench. She looked at the pylons that stuck up a few hundred metres away like futuristic steel wonders from the nature preserve. Nicke and Nocke, Axel had dubbed them as soon as he learned to talk. Although they were a conspicuous contrast to the woods, she had always liked them; they were always a landmark for home. She remembered a business flight from orebro. The meeting that was the reason for the trip had raised insoluble problems, and she had climbed aboard the plane full of stress and tension. It was past ten at night, and soon after they took off she could see the masts far off in the distance. And she remembered the feeling of being so far away but still able to see home, to Henrik and Axel and everything that was safe. It was a moment of clarity about what was really important in life.

But then the years had passed.