For the past six months they’d led a normal family life with their three-year-old daughter Elin. Every other week the family expanded when Sara and Filip, Emma’s children from her first marriage, now eleven and ten, came to stay. Johan had moved into Emma’s house in Roma and sublet his flat in the Södermalm district of Stockholm.
His routine of buying fast food at the local 7-Eleven had now been replaced by major shopping expeditions at Willy’s supermarket. Takeaway pizza had been replaced by home-cooked meals served at specific times of the day. He’d become an expert at making sausage stroganoff, mincemeat sauce and pancakes. Instead of sleeping late on the weekend, he now got up to fix porridge for the kids in the kitchen. The days were filled with playing with the doll’s house and plastic cars, watching children’s programmes on TV, Parcheesi, football and sledding.
Instead of spending late nights at the pub, Johan would fall asleep by ten o’clock in front of the TV, with Emma leaning on his shoulder and sometimes one or two of the kids on his lap. His job didn’t claim all his attention the way it used to do. Sometimes in the middle of editing a story he’d find himself suddenly wondering what Elin was doing at the day-care centre. And an interview that unexpectedly ran late could make him start to fret because he’d promised to take the children swimming or to football practice, or he was supposed to attend a parents’ meeting at school. Previously he’d been the type of person who more or less lived for his job, endlessly on his computer or discussing work with colleagues. But now he was always in a rush to get home. His family was waiting for him. They needed him. And he loved that.
It was dark by the time he parked outside the house, but there were lights on in all the windows. Emma was awake.
‘Hello,’ he called as he went in, pushing aside ten pairs of shoes and some little rubber boots decorated with flowers.
‘Hi,’ he heard her reply from the kitchen. She was sitting there, clad in her usual grey jogging suit, with her long, sandy-coloured hair hanging loose down her back. Her eyes looked tired.
He gave her a hug.
‘Hi, sweetheart. How are things?’
‘OK. Elin’s cough is better. She’s asleep now, thank God.’
Johan went upstairs and opened the door to Sara’s room. Her breathing was slow and regular; she always slept so soundly. He gently touched her cheek, and then turned off the light next to her bed, which was shining right in her face.
In the next bedroom Filip was asleep with his arms stretched over his head and his mouth wide open. He had kicked off the covers. Johan stood there looking at the boy for a moment. He almost thought of Filip as his own son. Lately they’d had such good times together. They shared a passion for football and a week ago Johan had gone to watch Filip play in a match. The boy had scored his first goal and they’d celebrated afterwards with hamburgers for dinner.
Then he went to look in on Elin. Her room was next to the bedroom he shared with Emma. All of her stuffed animals were lined up in her bed, barely leaving any room for the little girl. There she lay, squeezed in between the dolls, rabbits, teddy bears and shaggy dogs, a monkey with long arms and a cuddly elephant. All of them had names, and whenever Johan or Emma kissed their daughter goodnight, they also had to kiss all the animals, one after the other, and in the proper order. He smiled and kissed Elin on the forehead, prompting a little sigh. She turned on to her side and hugged one of the rabbits even closer.
AFTER COMPLETING THE interviews with Sofia and Fredrik Algård, Knutas felt utterly confused. Never had he met two children from the same family who had such vastly different attitudes towards their father. While Fredrik’s feelings bordered on hatred, his sister Sofia had praised her father to the skies. She said that he’d been her best friend, always available and ready to help. She was devastated by her father’s death, completely undone, and she burst into tears several times during the interview. According to her, Viktor had been the best father in the world.
Knutas yawned, rubbing his tired eyes, and went to get a cup of coffee. He also bought a dry sandwich from the vending machine. He hadn’t made it home for dinner today either. He was lucky that Lina was so understanding. After all these years she had become used to his erratic schedule, and she almost never complained. Besides, as a midwife, she often had to work late herself. Things were easier now that the kids were older. Knutas suddenly pictured his son’s face. He would just gather up a few documents and then head for home before Nils went to bed.