Page 155 of The Sleepwalker

He had been working at his computer in the kitchen for six hours straight – without anything but a cold meatball sandwich to eat – when he pulled on his winter coat and headed out.

Bernard is now almost back at the house. He walks through the gate, down the driveway, opens the front door and turns on the light in the hall. After kicking off his boots, he hangs up his coat and goes through to the kitchen.

He opens the lid of his computer, logs on and reads through the last few paragraphs he wrote before going out.

The pink Post-it note stuck to the top corner of the screen reminds him that he needs to finish his next column forExpressen. That type of work always seems so meaningless whenever the idea for a new book takes hold of him, all the interviews and public appearances like obstacles in the way of what he really wants to be doing.

Bernard lifts his hands to the keys, but just as he is about to start typing he hears a series of loud bangs above him.

As though someone is rolling a microwave oven across the floor.

He glances down at his phone, because Agneta promised to send him a message when she was on her way back, but he doesn’t have any notifications.

Bernard shudders and gets up. He walks through to the library and pauses at the foot of the stairs. He can hear a sweeping sound from somewhere above, like loose sheets of paper blowing in the breeze.

‘Agneta?’ he shouts as he starts to climb the stairs.

When he reaches the landing, he peers through the glass door at the end of the hallway to Hugo’s old room, where he slept before moving into the guest room.

Bernard turns in the other direction and sees that the narrow door to the stairs leading up to his office in the attic is ajar.

The house is now quiet.

Bernard moves towards the main bedroom, opens the door and goes in. The yellow glow of the lampshade illuminates the bed he shares with Agneta.

She isn’t there.

He has just started to turn back towards the hallway when he hears a rustling sound, like a crane fly hitting a window.

From the corner of one eye, he sees something lunge towards him, and he feels a crack on the side of his head.

As though he has just been hit by a golf ball.

Bernard’s legs give way, and he takes the bedside lamp with him as he crashes to the floor. The bulb flickers and goes out.

Five empty cans tied to the back of the happy couple’s car rattle along the hallway and down the stairs.

He closes his eyes and feels his heart pounding in fear.

The side of his head is throbbing, and he reaches up andtouches his temple. It doesn’t seem to be bleeding.

Bernard tries to sit up, but is too dazed to manage it.

What just happened? Someone was rolling a microwave, cracked him over the head and then ran away.

His thoughts are confused, he realises.

Five empty cans on strings hanging around a grey woman’s neck.

A golf ball hits his temple.

Two black dogs race through the room and down the stairs.

Bernard isn’t sure whether he dozed off or passed out when he wakes to the sound of Agneta shouting his name. He may as well stay where he is on the floor, he thinks with a smile. For the drama of it, if nothing else.

‘Bernard?’ she shouts as she climbs the stairs.

‘I’m OK,’ he whispers.