Free Babylon by Camilla Ceder Page A

been thinking of dropping out of uni altogether.He wasn’t really keeping up, but at the same time he was doing his own research, going beyond the syllabus. It was . . . I don’t know. He didn’t do anything he didn’t want to do, if you know what I mean. He was a free spirit.’
    ‘So you don’t recall Henrik being worried about anything specific? What was the situation with Karpov’s ex-husband, for example?’
    Donner shrugged. ‘What situation? She’d been divorced for years, hadn’t she? I don’t really think I can help you in terms of evidence or anything . . . But if you want my opinion, I think you should concentrate on Ann-Marie Karpov more than Henrik. She was an important figure, a person who commanded respect. Henrik was . . . Henrik was a good friend, but . . . I mean, he was a nobody in the grand scheme of things, just like me.’
    Donner took a deep breath. ‘And maybe that’s a good thing. No one bothers to murder a nobody. Unless he falls in with the wrong crowd.’
    Half an hour later, Tell was standing in his living room with the lights off, looking down at the deserted street. He suddenly realised how tired he was; he couldn’t even think straight. Even his plan to make himself something to eat – he was definitely in need of food – seemed completely beyond him, so he made do with a few spoonfuls of yoghurt and a slice of crispbread.
    Seja was fast asleep, her breathing deep and even. He didn’t know where she’d spent the evening, but if she’d been really angry she would have gone back to the cottage. The thought cheered him up.
    He slid in carefully beside her. Close, so he could smell the scent of her hair. The morning would give him the chance to explain what had happened, and she would understand. She usually did, but he really wished he didn’t have to catch a glimpse of that expression, that unspoken disappointment. Let her be angry instead, absolutely furious for ten minutes. Then she would point out what a depressing sight he was, and they would laugh together and everything would be all right.
    The following morning he overslept. When Seja stretched like a cat in the tangled sheets, he pushed aside thoughts of work. Instead he devoted his attention to re-establishing his position as a VeryImportant Person in Seja Lundberg’s life, a person who deserved her love and care. An hour later, he had almost convinced her. He had even agreed to join her for dinner – her elderly neighbours had invited her round. He promised in a particularly weak moment.
    Seja was resting on his arm. Her breath smelled faintly of the previous evening’s outing, and her dark hair fanned out messily on the pillow. She reached up to the shelf above the bed for her tin of chewing tobacco, which lay on top of his. He felt a rush of warmth, just like when he found a moisturiser in the bathroom cabinet and realised she hadn’t bothered to take it home. Or when she dropped her loose change in his box above the stove, as though they were saving towards a common goal, a holiday, perhaps. These everyday signs of closeness amazed Tell. He didn’t want the sense of amazement to disappear, to be replaced by a familiar feeling of entrapment. For the first time in many years he felt . . . yes, a kind of harmony, but that very feeling brought with it the fear of losing what he had.
    It was ironic, he thought; It’s as if I can’t allow myself to be happy .
    ‘Do you know what would make this morning even more perfect?’
    She kicked the covers down to the bottom of the bed and turned her back to him. He lifted her thick mane of hair and blew on the nape of her neck, which was slightly damp; she pulled him close, moving the palm of his hand up to her cheek.
    ‘No, what would make this morning even more perfect?’
    ‘A strong espresso with hot milk. Freshly squeezed orange juice. Croissants, the ones with chocolate inside . . . No, actually, that would be excessive. Plain croissants, but fresh and dripping