Alone in the double bed she was sorry that she had let Axel sleep over at her parents' house. She would have given anything to have him here now, hear his breathing, reach out her hand and feel the warm back of his pyjamas.

At four o'clock she couldn't stand it any more. With her face red and swollen and her eyes watering, she pulled on her robe and went out to the living room. It was still dark outside, but in the pale moonlight she could see that he was lying on his back with his arms behind his head. His knees a bit bent, the sofa too short to permit him to stretch out his legs. She wondered briefly why he didn't go and sleep in Axel's bed. A kid's bed, of course, but surely better than the sofa.

She sat down in the armchair, at the very edge.

'Are you asleep?'

He didn't answer.

She pulled her robe tighter around her and shivered. The mullioned windows in the room needed to be puttied again. The electric heater couldn't keep the room warm when most of the heat went straight out through the draughty cracks. It would be a time-consuming job, eight small panes in each window. Maybe they could hire someone and avoid wasting their time during their badly needed holiday. But maybe that was no longer so important.

She swallowed.

'Henrik?'

Not a sound.

'Henrik, dear, can't we just talk a little? Can't you explain to me what's happening?'

He didn't stir.

'Can't you at least explain why you're so angry? What is it I've done?'

He turned over on his side and pulled up the covers. He must have heard from her voice that she had been sad, that she was still sad, but she realised that he was not going to answer even if he did hear her. He intended to shut her out and her questions as if she had never uttered them. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to stifle the sound of desperation that was lodged like a scream in her throat, demanding to be released. A cornered animal whose every instinct was signalling her to fight, but she didn't know what to defend herself against. For a good while she sat there, unable to get up, but finally she managed to persuade her legs to take her back to the empty double bed.

She had just lain down when she heard him go into the bathroom.

He left her alone.

She didn't fall asleep until after five o'clock. At seven she woke up when the front door closed. She presumed he was going to collect Axel and take him to the day-care centre.

She lay there staring at the second-hand on her wristwatch, unable to move. Step by step it was leading her farther away from reason. How was she going to resolve this?

The sudden ring of the telephone made her gasp. The only reason she decided to pick it up was that it might be him.

'Eva speaking.'

'Hi, it's me.'

'Oh, hi Mamma.'

She lay back down.

'How did it go yesterday?'

'Oh, fine, thanks. Was it all right with Axel?'

'Yes, but he woke up at half past one and was sad and absolutely wanted to ring you even though we told him it was much too late. We tried your mobiles but they were turned off, and your home phone kept giving a busy signal. Were you having a good time?'

Kept giving a busy signal?

'Yes, it was very nice.'

Who had he called so late? Because she hadn't heard the phone ring. And if he was on the line, the call waiting signals should still have gone through.

'Pappa and I thought we'd ask if you two would like to come over for dinner on Sunday. I've got a moose steak left over from this autumn that I thought I'd do something with. I forgot to ask Henrik when he was here to fetch Axel, but you're usually the one who takes care of the social calendar. By the way, Henrik is certainly slimmer. He must have lost a few kilos, eh?'

She sat up in bed again. It was suddenly hard to breathe.

'Hello?'

'Yes.'

'Are you still there?'

'Yes.'

'So what do you say to dinner on Sunday?'

Sunday? Dinner?

'I don't think we can make it. Listen, I have to run off to work now, I was just going out the door, I'll ring you in a day or two.'

She hung up and sat there holding the receiver to her ear. How could she have been so blind? So damned gullible. Like in a magnetic puzzle, all the bits suddenly fell into place. Late meetings. A sudden conference trip to land with lecturers she didn't know. Phonecalls abruptly terminated when she came in the door.

She got up, pulled on her robe, and went into the office. There had to be something. A note, a letter, a phone number.

She started with the desk drawers. Searched methodically through both sides, one drawer after another, half her mind determined, the other terrified of finding confirmation of what she really already knew.

Never in her life had she believed that she would ever end up in a situation like this. Never.

She found nothing. Only evidence of their family's validity. Life insurance policies, passports, bank statements, Axel's vaccination card, the key to the safe deposit box. She went on to the bookshelf. Where? Where would he hide something that she could never be allowed to find? Was there any single place in this house where she never looked? Where he knew that his secret would be safe?

Suddenly she heard the front door open.

Trapped like a thief she hurried out of the room and back to the bedroom. She had to think, had to find out. Who was she? Who was the other woman who was taking her husband from her? Destroying her life. The threat pulsed through her body.

Just as she heard his steps coming up the stairs, she opened the bedroom door and stepped out.

They stood eye to eye, two metres from each other.

An eternity between them.

He looked surprised when he saw her.

'Aren't you at work?'

He kept going, heading for his place at the kitchen table, the everyday sound of the chair legs scraping on the wooden floor. Then he grabbed the newspaper and she lost all self-control. Without hesitation she went over to him, tore the paper out of his hands, and flung it across the room. He stared at her.

'Are you crazy?'

He still had the coldness in his eyes. An indifference that was just as effective as a police barrier. She was no longer welcome. Armed with his secret he sat safely ensconced, shielded from her attacks, while she stood naked and unprotected, with no effective weapon to use.

Rage flooded through her. She wanted to strike, wound, crush. Do harm in return. Regain the balance. She hated the weakness he was creating inside her.

'I only want you to answer one question. How long has this been going on?'

She saw him swallow.

'What's that?'

He must have sensed the danger, because he no longer dared meet her gaze. That reassured her, almost made her smile. Slowly but surely she was regaining the upper hand. She was the one who had right on her side. He had lied and cheated and would have to answer for his betrayal, would be put to shame.

She sat down on the chair across from him.

'All right, maybe you have several going at once, but I was thinking of the woman you were talking to on the phone last night.'

He stood up, went over to the sink, and drank straight out of the tap. She restrained herself from showering him with all the words that were clamouring to come out. The best torture would be to sit quietly; the worst thing she could do to him would be to force him to speak.

He straightened up again and turned to her.

'It was just a friend.'

'I see. Anybody I know?'

'No.'

Short and to the point. He looked straight at her and it made her waver. For the first time in a long while he was looking her in the eye with a steady gaze. Where was he getting the strength, if not from the fact that he was unjustly accused?

'What's the friend's name then? And where did you meet her? Because I assume it's a she.'

'Does that make any difference?'

'Yes. If my husband has such a good friend that he can call her in the middle of the night and wants to talk when I'm in bed in the next room, then I'd like to know about it.'

She could see that he hesitated, taking an unwashed coffee cup from the counter and putting it in the dishwasher. Then he came back and sat down at the table.

Husband and wife, face to face across their familiar kitchen table.

A sudden calm.

It was now that they should talk. A businesslike pause in the hurricane that permitted them to approach each other, as if they were going to talk about some other couple. All the questions would finally be answered, all the lies admitted. Reality would be unveiled and the truth would stand there raw and naked. What would happen afterwards was like an unspoken agreement and unimportant right now.

As long as the truth was finally told.

'Her name is Maria.'

Maria.

'And where did you meet her?'

'She's a graphic designer at Widman's.'

'How long have you known her?'

He shrugged.

'Maybe six months.'

'Why haven't you told me about her?'

No reply.

'Why did you call her last night?'

'How do you know I did?'

'Does that really matter? You did call, didn't you?'

'Yes. I rang her up last night. She's . . .'

He broke off and shifted position on the chair, looking as if he would like nothing better than to get up and leave.

'I don't know. She's nice to talk to.'

'About what?'

'Everything.'

'About us?'

'Yes, that has probably come up.'

She felt sick again.

'So what did you say?'

'Well, I suppose I've told her the truth.'

'Which is?'

He took a deep breath, revealing his reluctance.

'I've said that we, well, that I, what the hell, she's nice to talk to, that's all. She's a fun girl.'

A fun girl.

We don't have fun any more.