She had nothing.

'I have some pear cider at my place. Won't you come in and have a glass? To be honest, you look like you could use it. Then I can drive you wherever you like later.'

Wherever you like. Where was that? Was there such a place?

If only she hadn't.

The whole past chain of events was linked by the 'if only she hadn't's.

But the first link in the chain was Henrik's. The betrayal. His cowardice. The rage he had directed at her. His lack of consideration.

Kerstin's judgement echoed in her mind. One must always take responsibility for one's actions. What did Kerstin know about how Henrik had acted towards her? What he had done to provoke her crime. The impotence she felt. But she would never get the chance to defend herself. Not before any of those who thought they had the right to judge her. The verdict had been handed down and the sentence passed.

Pariah.

But what about Henrik? Didn't any part of the blame fall on him? Because he was the one who had prompted the whole chain of 'what if she hadn't's.

He got out of the car and she saw through the windscreen that he was walking towards her open door. When he got there he held out his hand to her.

'Come on now. Just a glass of pear cider. That's all.'

So tired, through and through. All the way into her marrow. If only she could just follow along, not have to make any decisions.

'Just a glass of pear cider?'

He smiled and nodded.

'Just a glass of pear cider.'

She refused his outstretched hand and got out of the car, moving past him. He let his arm hover in the air a bit too long before he slowly let it drop, closed her door and fetched a plastic bag from the boot.

'Come on.'

He started towards the door of his building. Maybe she was angry when she refused his hand; she didn't mean to seem unpleasant, she just didn't want to give him any ideas, not a single hope of anything more than what they had agreed. A glass of pear cider. Nothing more. That's what he had said and she had accepted.

He turned on the light in the stairwell and showed her in with a gentlemanly gesture, inviting her to go first. He followed a few steps behind. She was filled by a slight uneasiness at his presence, well aware that he had her rear end in his view. She felt exposed and open to his eyes, which could look at whatever they liked. She leaned her back against the wall as he unlocked the door. Four locks.

The last time. The nervousness she felt and how she had pressed herself against him to conceal it. How the images of Henrik and Linda had made her conquer her distaste.

Five days ago.

She stopped inside the door, heard him stick a key in one of the locks and turn it. And then the rattle of the keyring to lock the others and the rustle of the plastic bag he had taken out of the boot.

And she suddenly recalled that he thought her name was Linda. That her camouflage back then had made her brave enough to fulfil her intentions.

If only she hadn't.

Yet another one.

But now there was no reason why she should reveal her real name. It would just provoke questions that she didn't want to answer.

'Welcome. Welcome back, I should say.'

She wasn't back. The woman who stood before him was here for the first time.

She looked down at her shoes as if it were an impossible task to bend down and take them off. He followed her gaze, knelt down and carefully pulled down the zippers on the inside of her ankles. He placed her hand on his shoulder so she could lean on him as he pulled off her shoes. He held her right foot in his hand for a moment too long, and she could suddenly hear his breathing. She couldn't put up any resistance, just stood there with her hand on his shoulder and let him hold her right foot. She shouldn't be here. She ought to leave. But where could she go? And how could she find the energy?

He stood up, gently touched her elbow, led her into the little kitchen and sat her down on one of the chairs. She watched him take two steps over to the refrigerator and caught a glimpse of its contents when he opened it. All three shelves filled with recumbent cider bottles. He took out two, pulled his key chain out of his pocket, and opened them with a red bottle opener squeezed in between the keys. Then he stood with the bottles in his hands, cocked his head to one side and looked at her.

'How are you doing, anyway?'

She couldn't say a word.

'I don't have a sofa, but you can sit on the bed in there instead. I mean if you want to be a bit more comfortable, that's all. You look like you need a rest. I can sit on the floor.'

'I'm fine here.'

He sat down on the chair on the other side of the fold-down table, leaned forward and handed her one of the bottles of cider.

'Cheers. Once again.'

He smiled and she raised the bottle and drank.

'That's the kind you like, isn't it?'

She read the label on the bottle. Couldn't tell if this one tasted either better or worse than those she had tasted before.

'Sure.'

'Imagine running into each other again like this. It's really too wild to be just a coincidence, it almost feels like it means something, as if it was fate.'

She couldn't come up with any good answer but smiled a little so she wouldn't seem rude.

For a while they sat in silence. Then he got up and went over to the small kitchen counter, picked up the dishrag and wiped off the stainless steel surface. He rubbed it intently and kept checking to see whether the spot was gone.

'Can you tell me what happened?'

He rinsed out the dishrag and wrung it out, rinsed it again and repeated the procedure one more time before he folded it in thirds and hung it over the tap.

'Why you're out walking without a jacket, for example, and where you were going?'

He straightened the dishrag and moved it a few centimetres out on the tap.

She took a gulp from the bottle.

'If you don't mind, I just can't talk about it.'

She had no obligations to him. No duty to share anything with him. On the contrary. If she told him, the free zone she had found would be eradicated, he would join the jury and judge her.

Linda in intensive care. If she pulls through we're going to ask her to keep working here.

If she pulls through.

She took another drink, looking for respite in intoxication.

He stood completely still with his back to her. Then he suddenly turned around.

'You can take a bath if you like.'

She didn't answer, but felt her suspicions awaken at once.

He put down the bottle on the table.

'You don't have to be afraid. I'll run the bath for you and sit out here and relax. I think it would be nice for you to take a bath; you of all people certainly deserve to rest a little.'

Then he was gone, and she heard the sound of running water.

She had no intention of taking off her clothes in the flat, but in the bathroom she could lock herself in and then she wouldn't have to answer any questions. Wouldn't have to talk at all. And she'd have a chance to think. Maybe she could ring Sara or Gerd at work and ask if she could stay overnight, figure out some plausible explanation.

His voice from the bathroom and then suddenly the familiar aroma.

'I've bought new bubble bath too. Eucalyptus.'

The same that she had in her bathroom at home. Which was a present from Axel. She took it as a sign, gave up struggling and allowed herself to relax.

He had good intentions.

And that's what she needed right now.

She took the last gulp from the bottle and heard the water turned off in the bathtub. Then he appeared in the doorway.

'Your bath is ready.'

He smiled and gestured towards the bathroom, but noticed that her bottle was empty. At once he was at the refrigerator to fetch a new one. She stood up, and he made a move to touch her forearm to lead her once again, but he caught himself and withdrew. Perhaps out of consideration, perhaps he wanted to show that she was safe, that he had no ulterior motives.

She took the new bottle and went into the hall towards the open bathroom door. The bathtub was filled to the brim and the white bubbles were crackling invitingly. Her mood was improving. She could use a little rest.

'Here's a towel for you.'

He handed her a light-blue bath towel. Carefully folded, edge to edge, to the last centimetre. She took it and put it on the toilet seat. The towel reluctantly unfolded but the creases left deep traces in the terrycloth. She turned to him. He was standing in the doorway. She made no move to start undressing, and he clearly understood her unspoken demand.

'Enjoy yourself now, and don't hurry. Take all the time you want.'

'Thank you.'

He backed out and pulled the door shut; she turned the lock until the white half-moon turned to red. Then she slowly took off her clothes and sank down through the foam with the bottle on the edge of the tub. A calm began to spread over her. The cider had done its job.

It was Nacka that was the problem. She had to get away. She could already sense how she felt free having left the boundaries of the town. Here she could breathe again. She could think clearly enough to realise that even if she had done wrong, the guilt was not hers alone. There was a reason for her actions. What if they sold the house and she moved into the city, let Axel start at a new pre-school where no one knew them?

She took another gulp.

Things would work out. There was still a future.

'Is the bath nice?'

His voice just outside the door.

'Yes, it is. Thanks.'

Just when she thought he had left, he said something else. He sounded even closer now, as if his mouth were right next to the crack in the door.

'I don't mean you any harm, on the contrary. You know that, don't you?'

A pang of uneasiness in the midst of the soothing bath foam.

'Yes.'

'Good.'

She had just settled back again and closed her eyes when she heard the sound. She turned her head and saw the red half-moon turn until it was white, and the next moment he was standing in the open doorway. She sank down as deep as she could to cover herself with the bubbles.

'I would like to be left in peace in here, please.'

He smiled at her.

'You are at peace in here.'

He picked up the bath towel and placed it on his lap as he sat down on the toilet seat.

'I mean alone.'

He smiled again, sadly this time, as if she didn't know what was good for her.

'Haven't you been alone long enough?'

She suddenly felt afraid. Wanted to get up and leave the flat. But not as long as he could see her.

'Why do you look so scared? I already know how beautiful you are. You've already showed me once, and how could I ever forget?'

'I said that we were just going to drink a pear cider.'

'That's right. And now we've drunk two of them. And you can have just as many as you like. I bought them for you.'

There was nothing threatening about him, he radiated nothing but genuine goodwill. And yet there was something that told her she ought to get out of here, get away as fast as she could.

'Wait a minute and I'll give you something beautiful to wear after you're done with your bath.'

He stood up.