‘How are you doing?’ asked Paula, giving Martin a searching look as they drove.

      He wondered how long everyone was going to keep worrying about him.

      ‘Things are good,’ he said, surprised to hear that he actually meant it.

      His grief at losing Pia would never disappear completely. He would always wonder what their life together might have been, and he’d see her like a shadowy presence at all the important occasions in Tuva’s life. Even at the less important occasions, for that matter. After Pia died, people told him a time would come when he’d be able to enjoy life again. That one day he would feel happy and find himself laughing. That his grief would never go away, but he’d learn to live with it, to walk side by side with his sorrow. At the time, when he was wandering in darkness, it had seemed impossible. In the beginning he frequently seemed to be taking one step forward and two steps back, but after a while it became two steps forward and one step back. Until gradually all movement was forward.

      Martin’s thoughts turned to the mother he’d met at the playground yesterday. To be honest, he’d been thinking about her a lot. He realized he should have asked for her phone number. Or at least found out her name. But it was easy to think of things after the event. He’d felt flustered when he realized he’d like to see her again. As luck would have it, they lived in a small community, and he’d been hoping to see her at the playground today. That was his plan, anyway, until Nea was found murdered, and he’d been forced to end his holiday and go back to work.

      Guilt flooded over him. How could he be thinking about a woman at a time like this?

      ‘You look happy, but also a little worried,’ said Paula, as if she’d read his thoughts.

      Before he could stop himself, he told her about the woman at the playground. He nearly missed the exit and had to turn the wheel hard to the left.

      ‘Aha,’ said Paula. ‘She’s so cute you can’t even drive when you think about her!’ She reached for the grab-handle above the car window.

      ‘You probably think I’m a real idiot,’ Martin said, blushing so much that his freckles were even more noticeable against his pale skin.

      ‘I think it’s great,’ said Paula, patting his leg. ‘And don’t feel guilty. Life has to go on. And if you’re feeling good, then you’ll do a better job. So find out who she is and give her a call. We’re not going to be able to work round the clock. If we get too tired we’ll only make mistakes.’

      ‘You’re probably right,’ said Martin, wondering how he should go about finding her.

      He knew the name of her son. That was always a start. Tanumshede wasn’t a big place, so he should be able to find her. Provided she wasn’t a tourist just passing through. What if she didn’t even live in the area?

      ‘Aren’t we going to stop somewhere?’ said Paula as he drove past the first house they’d seen since turning on to the gravel road.

      ‘What? Oh, sorry,’ he said, blushing again.

      ‘I’ll help you track her down later,’ Paula told him with a grin.

      Martin pulled into the driveway of an old, red-painted house with white trim and lots of gingerbread details. He found himself sighing from sheer envy. This was exactly the sort of house he’d dreamed of owning. He and Pia had been saving up for a house, and had almost scraped together enough for a down payment. Every evening they would search the property websites, and they’d even gone to their