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while my imagination ran wild. Miranda’s head lolled back and she opened her mouth. I could see her large front teeth, big as sugar lumps. Her feet in their white trainers were turned inwards, a wide belt held her in the wheelchair. It was fastened with a shiny buckle.
    I glanced at the path. Lill Anita wasn’t in sight. So I quickly dived into my pocket where I had a packet of lozenges. I opened the packet and took one out, weighing it in my hand. It was a Fisherman’s Friend. Small, sand-coloured and oval, and so strong it brought tears to the eyes. And, seeing as Miranda was sitting there gaping like a baby thrush, I popped it into her mouth. At first nothing happened. The lozenge lay on her tongue where it slowly but surely began to melt, and to wreak its overpowering havoc. Then, the first tears appeared. Some saliva ran down her chin and on to the front of her dress, while I kept an eye out for Lill Anita who would shortly appear on the paved path. Miranda struggled desperately with the strong lozenge. She attempted to expel it with her tongue, but this proved too much for her limited powers of co-ordination, she couldn’t manage it. There’s something about drooling. It makes people appear moronic, but for all I knew this gasping little girl might be as sharp as the scythe I had at home. A sudden light in her eyes told me that her mother was coming at last. I rose from the bench and smiled soothingly. Assured her that everything was fine. Lill Anita ran the final few steps across the parterre.
    ‘Have you given her something to eat?’
    She rummaged in the net at the back of the chair for some tissue, tore off a large piece and wiped Miranda’s mouth.
    ‘Only a sweet,’ I said in my defence.
    Her cheeks turned a bright red. Presumably caused by a mixture of annoyance and shame, because she’d left her helpless child in the care of an unknown man who looked like a pike.
    ‘You mustn’t give her anything,’ she said angrily, ‘or it could stick in her throat. Good God! You mustn’t give her things, are you crazy or what?’
    So that’s the thanks you get, I thought, and stared at the object she’d deposited on the bench. A DVD. Presumably she was going to watch it when evening finally arrived and Miranda was asleep. Those few, precious night-time hours without responsibility. I returned to my own bench, and they began making rapid preparations to leave. Lill Anita put the film in the net, released the brake, spun the wheelchair round and set off down the paved path.
    Serves you right for leaving your child with a stranger, I said to myself. You wicked, slovenly woman.

Chapter 13
    ONE NIGHT SOON after I dreamt about the man in the red ski-suit.
    I was standing on the shore of the lake and saw him fall through, I tried to shout, but I was mute, no sound came from me. It was terrible to watch his furious battle in the water, his constant thrashing and clawing attempts to pull himself out. Yet I also felt a strange thrill, as if I were full of good adrenalin, pumping my blood at tremendous speed through my veins. They’ve searched the lake for him without success. The rescue services and some volunteers. It must be hard for his relatives, I thought, knowing that he’s lying at the bottom of the lake, decomposing. His skin becoming porous, the flesh loosening from his bones, fish eating their way in through his eye sockets.
    After the episode with Miranda and the Fisherman’s Friend, Lill Anita has been somewhat reserved. But she still comes to the park. She occupies the bench as if it belongs to her. She’s on her mobile phone for much of the time, always keeping an eye on the girl in the wheelchair. For Miranda is there the whole time, every moment needy and dependent. Ebba has been over a few times and patted her on the cheek. As if that were of any use. But old ladies are like that, they always make a fuss about petty things.
    Often, when I’m at work and have a bit of time to spare, I’ll go out