football shirts – or maybe they were ice-hockey shirts – were laughing and shouting at a nearby table. She felt an urge to tell them about Henrik and ask them to be quiet. Then she started crying. A potbellied lorry driver stared at her. Louise shook her head and he looked away. She saw that he was carefully filling in some kind of betting slip or football coupon, and she hoped he would win.
It was evening by the time she came to the neverending forests. She thought she caught a glimpse of an elk in a clear-felled patch. She stopped and got out of the car. She thought hard in an attempt to find something she had overlooked.
Henrik did not die a natural death. Somebody killed him. The red soil under his shoes, the memory books, his sudden happiness. What is it that I can't see? Perhaps the shards fit together, even if I can't see how.
She stopped again in Noppikoski, when she felt so tired, she could not possibly drive any further.
She dreamed about Greece again, but this time Vassilis only appeared as a shadowy figure on the periphery. She was at the site of a dig when there was a sudden landslide. She was buried underneath the rubble, she was terrified and just as she found herself unable to breathe any more, she woke up.
She carried on driving north. This last dream had an obvious explanation.
It was late at night by the time she reached Sveg. She could see a light in the kitchen as she turned into the forecourt. Her father was still up, as usual. As she had done so many times before, she wondered how he had managed to survive all these years despite having so little sleep.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, greasing some of his carving tools. He did not seem surprised at her coming home in the middle of the night.
'Are you hungry?'
'I had a meal in Orsa.'
'That's a long way away.'
'I'm not hungry.'
'OK, I won't mention it again.'
She sat down on her usual chair, smoothed out the tablecloth and reported on what had happened. When she had finished, neither spoke for a long time.
'Perhaps Wrath is right,' he said eventually. 'Let's see if they can come up with an explanation.'
'I don't think they're doing everything they could do. They're not really interested in Henrik. One young man among thousands who's suddenly discovered dead in his bed.'
'You're being unfair.'
'I know I'm being unfair. But that's how I feel.'
'I suppose we'll have to wait and see what they say, anyway.'
Louise knew he was right. The truth about what had happened, about what had caused Henrik's death, would never be discovered if they refused to consider the postmortem examination.
Louise was tired. She was about to stand up and go to bed when Artur held her back.
'I've had another go at finding Aron.'
'Have you traced him?'
'No. But I've made an effort, at least. I've been in touch with our embassy in Canberra again, and talked to a few people at the friendship society. But nobody has ever heard of Aron Cantor. Are you sure he's living in Australia?'
'Nobody can be sure of anything as far as Aron is concerned.'
'It would be sad if he didn't find out what had happened and hence couldn't be present at the funeral.'
'Maybe he doesn't want to be there? Maybe he doesn't want us to find him at all?'
'Surely he would want to be there?'
'You don't know Aron.'
'You could be right about that. You hardly gave me a chance to meet him.'
'What do you mean by that?'
'There's no need to get het up. You know I'm right.'
'You're not right at all. I never got in the way of you and Aron.'
'It's too late at night for an argument like this.'
'It isn't an argument. It's a pointless conversation. Thank you for taking the trouble, but Aron won't be coming to the funeral.'
'Nevertheless, I think we ought to keep on looking.'
Louise made no reply. And Artur stopped talking about Aron.
Aron was not present at the funeral of his son, Henrik Cantor, in the Lutheran church in Sveg two weeks later. After the notice of Henrik's death had appeared, a lot of people contacted Nazrin, who was a big help to Louise during those difficult weeks. Many of Henrik's friends, most of whom Louise had never heard of, had said they would like to be present at the funeral. But Härjedalen was too far away. Nazrin had suggested a memorial service in