At first she felt simply angry. So angry that she started towards the door, picking up her rucksack in the passing. She stopped with her hand reaching for the door handle, suddenly uncertain. She didn’t dare step outside yet.

She put the rucksack down and sighed.

‘Patrik, don’t be silly. This isn’t some kind of exciting game.’

‘I know. It’s just – well, do you have any better ideas?’

She turned to face him, but he was picking up the papers she had thrown down. She went to help him and when the papers were stacked in order again, she sat down on the bed.

‘What chances do you think we’ve got?’

He leaned forward, speaking in an eager whisper.

‘Sylla, listen. The police are looking for you. No one else. It gives us space. We know that there must be another person who’s the killer.’

‘So what can we do? We’ve no information.’

He looked up and met her eyes.

‘Please promise not to be angry.’

‘What? I mean, how can I promise?’

He hesitated. By now she was truly curious about what it was that he thought might make her angry.

‘Ah … my Mum’s in the police.’

She was transfixed. He met her eyes. When the full significance of what he had said dawned on her, her blood seemed to pump faster through her body and she rose.

‘I’ve got to get out of here. Check the hall, please.’

‘Cool it.’

‘Now. Please, Patrik.’

She had raised her voice to a dangerous pitch and he obeyed, sighing. After peering outside, he opened the door wide. She got hold of her rucksack and walked swiftly past him.

‘Please, Sylla. Please listen!’

She was walking quickly, but he was only a few steps behind her. When she’d turned the corner and started down Folkunga Street, she hoped she’d lose him. Not one word more from Patrik. ‘My Mum’s in the police.’ Fancy that. He had invited her straight into a hornets’ nest. She stopped abruptly. He was unprepared and crashed straight into her.

‘So what do you think would’ve happened if your Mum had come home unexpectedly. Fucking what, exactly?’

The adrenaline was still rushing through her veins.

‘Come off it. She’s on a course!’

She looked at him, shaking her head. He was too young to understand. Maybe she wasn’t being fair on him.

‘Patrik, it’s my life we’re discussing here. Say she’d caught the ’flu or something and returned a day early or whatever. Anything. There I would’ve been, in her son’s bedroom. Was that what you had in mind?’

He took a few steps back. He looked angry.

‘Right. Fine. You don’t trust me. Why don’t you go and get pissed then? That’s the best you can do, isn’t it?’

Suddenly her anger melted away. He was her only real friend and here she was, ditching him. It was a chilly day and he hadn’t had time to fetch a jacket. He was wrapping his arms round his chest to keep warm.

It seemed impossible to think of a way forward. It wasn’t as if it hadn’t been hard before, but now she felt responsible for this youngster as well. Of course there was no telling what he might do as soon as he got out of sight, but she had only herself to blame. She had dragged him into this mess. She sighed, really deeply this time.

‘Go home. Find yourself a thick jacket.’

He looked suspicious.

‘Yeah? Why?’

‘Simple. You’re feeling the cold.’

‘Aha. Don’t you think I get your cunning plan? Like, when I come back you’ll be gone.’

‘Then what?’

Their eyes met.

He thought of something, pulled his wallet from his jeans and put it in the pocket of her anorak.

‘Look after it until I come back.’

In seconds he had disappeared round the corner. That was a clever move. The kid wasn’t stupid. He’d do well. She got hold of his wallet, weighing it in her hand.

Then she closed her eyes and couldn’t help smiling.