In bo he had changed ferries; as sheer punishment he was given a windowless cabin on a lower deck below the water level, and that's where he had continued his isolation. Just after midnight there was an urgent knock on his door. She was drunk. Furiously she screamed at him, using all the obscene words he could remember ever hearing, and when he didn't defend himself the air went out of her. In tears she collapsed on the floor inside the cabin door. But he was unable to console her. For the life of him he couldn't come up with anything to say. And when she realised his total inability to handle all that had happened, her wrath was reawakened and with a new onslaught of vituperation she left the cabin, slamming the door, leaving him to the confined space with her words hanging in the air. And he realised that he deserved every one of them. He remained sitting among them and spent the next few hours in soul-searching until he could stand it no longer. Because he had been betrayed as well. A judge ought to come down on his side, weighing the punishment he deserved for what he had done to Linda against the sympathy to which he was entitled after Eva's betrayal.

It would have been so much easier if everything were black or white. The tightrope he would have been forced to walk with a furious need to accuse her without any of his own guilt. Silence her with her guilty conscience and rob her of every possibility of defending herself. Force her to admit her wretchedness and thereby finally take the power from her. Gain superiority over her.

Instead he would obsequiously have to attempt to win back her love, persuade her in an ingratiating way, try to convince her to stay with him. Choose his words well and not give her the slightest opportunity of minimising her crime by dumping part of the guilt onto him, by saying that he had behaved no better himself.

It would have been so much easier if he had told her the truth from the beginning. If he had confessed his secret love or passion or whatever it was he felt or had felt. Then they could have continued from the point they were at now, with all their cards on the table. Now it was too late. Now his admission that he had lied cast him into the underworld and from there he could never become her equal. Even if she had done the same thing to him, her verbal prowess would quickly shift all right and truth to her side.

There was something about Eva that made him feel superfluous. She was so unbelievably strong. Adversity seemed to have the opposite effect on her that it did on other people. She didn't react normally. For her adversity was a reason, and fuel to become even stronger. In some unfathomable way she always managed to convert a crisis into an opportunity. As he stood by and kept silent and realised that she didn't need him, that she could solve everything on her own with no need for his help or support. Bit by bit she had stripped him of all responsibility until finally he hadn't known whether he could handle anything at all. Good God, he wasn't even allowed to open his own window envelopes!

With Linda everything had been different. She had openly admitted that she needed him; it was a fantastic feeling to be indispensable. She made him feel like a man. Straight off she admitted that there were things that she couldn't do or hadn't mastered, and unlike Eva there was nothing shameful in it for her. On the contrary, she used it to come closer to him, to make them dependent on each other, to help them create an essential togetherness. And he had enjoyed their solidarity. He had fantasised about their life together and how different everything would be. How different he would be. Now he realised how naive he had been, how simple everything had seemed as long as it was merely a fantasy. He had imagined that he would be able to cut Eva out of his life and his future like an old wart he finally got around to doing something about. That everything would be clean and pure and full of possibilities. An unblemished new start, completely unaffected by everything that had gone before, all the choices he had once made. He realised now with devastating clarity that it could never be that way; he and Eva belonged together forever, whether they wanted it or not. The choices he had already made would follow him for the rest of his life. Axel was one of the consequences. He had only seen the advantages, forgotten to imagine Eva and Axel together with a new man, a man who would spend as much time with Axel as he did. Influence him and the grown man he would one day become. Now that he had got a look at that bastard, the thought was intolerable.

But the thought of losing Linda was intolerable as well.

Or of being rejected by Eva.

Or that she may never have loved him.

Bloody hell.

He needed time. Time to understand what it was he actually felt.

What it was he actually wanted.

He got up and found the key card. He had to try and get hold of Linda. Whether it was out of consideration or because the walls of the cabin were threatening to suffocate him, he didn't know. He got her cabin number from the reception, but there was no answer when he knocked. No one was answering her phone either. Methodically he searched through the bars and restaurants on board. What was it he wanted from her? He didn't know. All he knew was that he had to talk to her. Try to make her understand. She wasn't on any of the flashing disco floors or in the loud karaoke bars. He stopped in front of a large panoramic window, having lost his orientation, and in all the pitch blackness outside the window it was impossible to discern the direction they were sailing, whether he was closer to the bow or the stern. He found a wall map and made his way back to her cabin. This time she opened the door, squinting at the sharp light in the corridor. She didn't say a word, just left the cabin door open and backed into the darkness inside. He took a deep breath before he followed her, still not knowing what he wanted to say. Then he closed the door behind him and stood there in the dark.

'Don't turn on the light.'

He heard her voice a few metres away and pulled back his hand that had automatically been searching the wall for a light switch.

'I can't see a thing.'

She didn't answer. He heard the sound of a glass being set down on a table. A faint light from the porthole began to materialise and then the contours of a chair. He stood there trying to let his eyes adjust. Didn't want to risk tripping over something on the floor. But he had to figure out what to say.

'How are you feeling?'

She didn't answer this time either. Only a faint snort broke through the throbbing engine noise.

He stood in silence a long time. The initiative was his but he didn't know what to say, what words he could use to make her understand.

'Do you have anything to drink?'

'No.'

He heard her pick up the glass and take a few gulps.

This was not going to be easy.

'Linda, I . . .'

He had palpitations now. He felt so much and could explain none of it. She who had been his closest friend. Who had understood him so well. Who had made him feel so good. Who had made him dare.

He heard her change position. Maybe she was sitting up.

'What do you want?'

Four words.

Each by itself or in some other context completely harmless. Utterly without gravity in themselves. Merely a question about what he wanted.

But at this moment the words coming from her lips were a threat to his entire existence. Now he would be forced to make the choice he would have to live with for the rest of his life. Open the way towards the future he would freely choose, here and now. Now he had a chance. Or did he? That was precisely what he didn't know any longer, whether he actually had any other choice. And that's what made it all so hard. He no longer knew. Maybe this was the only alternative. Maybe the decision had already been made, over his head.

By Eva.

Again.

Shit.

Surely Linda realised that everything had changed, didn't she? That it wasn't so easy any more? She couldn't ask him to make such a big decision without giving him a chance to think or figure out what was going on.

'If you still don't have anything to say then you might as well leave.'

There was a coldness in her voice that scared him. He was on his way to losing everything. Both what he had and what he dreamed of having. Both. What would he do then? If he was left all alone.

'Please, can't we just turn on the light so I can see you?'

'Why should you see me? It doesn't seem to be anything you want.'

He felt the rage building. It was such a shame for her! She was lying there so pitiful and refused to make the slightest effort to try and understand or meet him halfway.

She was the one who spoke.

'I just want to hear your answer to my question. That's all I ask and it doesn't matter if it's in the dark. What is it you want, anyway?'

He could see her contours now. She was sitting up in bed. A single cabin the same as his.

'It's not that fucking simple!'

'What isn't simple?'

'Everything has changed.'

'What has changed?'

Now he could also make out the floor, and he went over to the chair, picked up her jacket that was hanging over the back and placed it in his lap as he sat down.

He gave a heavy sigh.

'I don't know how to explain.'

'Try.'

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

'It's not as if my feelings for you have changed, that's not it.'

She sat in silence. It was harder to make out her contours from this angle. Maybe it was true that it was easier to say what he had to say without being able to see her.

'It just feels like . . . I know it sounds strange, but . . . Eva and I lived together for almost fifteen years. Even though I don't love her . . . I just can't fathom that she has been with another man for a whole year. Without saying a word. I just feel so stupid.'

The darkness was working in his favour. He didn't need to see her or show his shame. And he didn't want her questions and accusations. He wanted her support. Her understanding.

'I've never told you about this. I don't think I've ever told anyone, not even Eva. It's a long time ago now, back in Katrineholm before I moved to Stockholm.'

A girl he had loved. Unconditionally and to distraction. At least he had thought so. Twenty years ago, with no frame of reference. Everything new and untested. Untried. No limits.

'There was a girl there, Maria was her name. She was a year younger than me. We moved in together in a little bed-sit in the city right after high school. I was really in love with her . . .'

The price had been high. He had risked everything but not for a second had he felt secure. It had been a crazy balancing act from the beginning; he had loved her more than she did him. Every waking moment was a struggle to regain balance. Every day a paralysing fear of losing her, a fear that in the end controlled his whole life. And he had good reason to be afraid. He never succeeded in trusting her, in spite of her protestations that everything was as it should be. She had lulled him into a false sense of security which he finally had to believe in because he had no other choice. Until his suspicions had been confirmed by the testimony of others.

'She went behind my back. I had a suspicion about it the whole time, but she assured me that it wasn't true. But in the end she admitted that she had met someone else.'

Never again will anyone do me so wrong. Never be able to fool me like that. I will never again let anyone all the way in.

Twenty years later and the wound was still there. He had kept his promise. Until he met Linda. She had forced him to dare.

Now Eva had sabotaged everything by picking the wound open again.

He heard her drinking from the glass. Sensed her movements as shadows in the dark.

'I have only one question. What is it you want?'

He closed his eyes. Gave an honest answer.

'I don't know.'

'Then I want you to leave.'

'Linda, please.'

'I know what I want, I've known it for a long time, and I've told you about it. You told me what you wanted too, but I realise now that you didn't mean a word of it.'

'Yes I did.'

'You most certainly did not!'

'Yes I did, it's just that everything is different now.'

'Well, so be it. Then there wasn't any more to it than that. You find out that your wife is doing it with someone else and suddenly we don't mean shit any more. Bloody hell!'

She lay back on the bed again.

'Linda, that's not what this is about.'

'Then what is it that has changed so much? If it's not your feelings for me? Just a few days ago we went and looked at a flat together!'

Give me a year on a desert island.

With all my choices intact.

'Can't you wait for me?'

'Wait for what? For you to see if you can get her back?'

'No!'

'What am I supposed to wait for, then? For you to make up your mind whether I'm good enough as a replacement?'

'Cut it out, Linda. I just feel that everything's moving too fast. I do realise that because I'm reacting this way that . . . that . . .'

He broke off. What was it he had actually realised?

'That you actually love your wife?'

'No, that's not true. I really don't.'

Or did he?

'It's not that. I just realise that . . . that I'm not ready yet . . . it wouldn't be fair to you to . . .'

Please, get me out of this!

'I'm just not ready. It wouldn't be fair to you if we started a life together when I'm feeling this way.'

'So you think I should sit and wait for you? In case you ever happen to be ready?'

'Everything is so much easier for you! You're not risking anything.'

She sat up again.

'I'm not risking anything! I'm a day-care teacher who's having an affair with the father of one of the children! What do you think will happen to me when this gets out? And those emails that somebody sent? How do you think it feels to have someone go into my computer and find my private letters and then send them off? Don't you get it? Somebody knows. Somebody who has seen us. Who's trying to punish me!'

'It wasn't Eva. I know you think so, but she's not like that. And why in hell would she do it? She must be satisfied by now. It gives her a free hand, after all.'

Linda was silent, and he saw that she was shaking her head, slowly shaking it back and forth in disgust.