Page 158 of The Sleepwalker

It’ll be lonely, but I’ve got myself a dog – a Siberian husky, because his eyes remind me of yours.

Bluer than robin eggs.

I’ll always love you, and I think of you every day.Câlins et bisous, puss och kram.

Your mum,

Claire

Agneta folds the sheet of paper, pulls the elastic band back around the stack and gets to her feet. She is thinking about the last letter and the conversation she had with Hugo in the car. He clearly hasn’t read it, because it sounds like his mother is genuinely trying to stay clean.

Agneta feels guilty for having often looked down on Claire and her addiction. She leaves the letters on the desk and turns to the window out onto the water.

A shiver passes down her spine when she sees a light come on in the lake house.

55

Hugo has sent six messages to Olga over the course of the day, telling her about the hypnosis session and life at the lab, that he is looking forward to spending more time with her over Christmas, but she hasn’t replied.

He has just helped himself to a plate of chickpea stew, and he exchanges a few words with the woman who works in the kitchen before heading into the dining room and sitting down opposite Bo, who is tucking into a hearty portion of meatballs, potatoes, lingonberry jam and sauce.

‘Haven’t seen you in a few days,’ says Bo.

‘No, I know, I had to go home .?.?.’

‘To chat to that journalist, yeah.’

‘Seems like everyone saw that, huh?’ Hugo sighs, spreading his paper napkin on his lap.

‘You looked good. The bags under your eyes werejustdark enough, and—’

‘I was an idiot,’ Hugo cuts him off with a laugh.

‘Nah, man. Sleepwalking and sleepwalkers don’t get nearly enough press these days.’

‘We’re a bit slow, kind of dozy and have trouble communicating, but other than that .?.?.’

‘What’s not to love?’

A slim young woman approaches their table carrying a tray.She looks to be around twenty, her face covered in freckles, and she is wearing a clip with an enamel ladybird on it in her straight red hair.

‘When I told Bo my name was Svanhildur, he asked if that’s why I scream at night,’ she says with a smile, lowering her tray to the table.

‘It’s enough to make your blood run cold,’ Bo quips, using his foot to push a chair towards her.

‘Seriously .?.?. It does sound pretty creepy,’ says Hugo.

‘Sorry. I have night terrors,’ Svanhildur explains as she sits down.

She pulls a pill organiser from her pink corduroy bag, takes out three tablets and pops them in her mouth.

‘I’m Hugo,’ he says.

‘Ah, the famous Hugo.’ She smiles and pulls on her fingers, making the joints crack.

A thin young man with slicked-back hair comes into the dining room. His tics are plain to see as he stands by the trays of hot food and the sliced bread. He has incredibly pale skin and dark circles beneath his eyes, and is wearing a faded sailor’s uniform that seems much too small for him, plus a pair of strange shoes with separate big toes.

Bo jokingly crosses himself as the young man walks past their table and sits down at another with his back to them.