She thought it was Gerlof, and picked up the receiver without any misgivings. It was Martin. “I just wanted to see how you were. Make sure everything’s okay.” Tilda didn’t speak; the pains in her stomach came back immediately. She gazed out at the empty quays in the harbor. “Fine,” she said eventually. “Fine, or just okay?” “Fine.” “Do you fancy having a visitor?” asked Martin. “No.” “Isn’t it lonely in northern Öland anymore?” “Yes, but I’m keeping busy.” “Good.” The conversation was not unpleasant, but it was short. Martin ended by asking if he could ring her again, and she said yes in a very small voice. The wound somewhere between her heart and her stomach started bleeding again. It isn’t Martin who’s ringing, she thought, it’s his hormones. He’s just horny and wants a change from his wife again; he can’t cope with everyday life … The worst of it was that she still wanted him to come over, preferably that very night. It was sick.
