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"Is Britt-Marie still here?" she says, with a nod towards the door.

Elsa has a thousand questions about what Alf just said, but doesn't ask any of them because Mum is so tired once they've gone up into the flat that she and Halfie have to go straight to bed. Mum gets like that these days, tired as if someone pulled the plug. It's Halfie's fault, apparently. George says that to compensate for Halfie keeping them awake for the next eighteen years, Halfie is making Mum fall asleep all the time for the first nine months. Elsa sits on the edge of the bed stroking her hair; Mum kisses her hands, whispering, "It will get better, darling. It will be fine." Like Granny used to say. And Elsa wants so, so much to believe that. Mum smiles sleepily.

Britt-Marie's nagging voice emanates from the kitchen, so the question immediately becomes rhetorical. She's demanding "a decision" from George on Renault, which is still parked in Britt-Marie's slot in the garage. ("We can't live without rules, George! Even Ulrika has to understand that!") George answers cheerfully that he can understand that well enough, because George can understand everyone's point of view. It's one of the annoying things about him, and, sure enough, seems to be getting Britt-Marie into a huff. And then George offers her some eggs, which she ignores, insisting instead that all tenants "submit to a full investigation" regarding the stroller, which is still locked up at the bottom of the stairs.

Elsa laughs. But only a little. And she thinks that the mystery of the locked stroller is like the opening of an insanely awful Agatha Christie novel. Elsa knows that because almost all of Agatha Christie's novels can be read on the iPad, and Agatha Christie has never had such a stereotypical villain as Britt-Marie. More likely she'd be a victim, because Elsa can imagine a murder mystery in which someone has bludgeoned Britt-Marie to death with a candlestick in the library, and then everyone who knew her would be a suspect because everyone would have a motive: "The hag was a nightmare!" And then Elsa feels a bit ashamed for thinking along these lines. But only a little.

"Don't worry, darling, we'll find a better hiding place for your friend tomorrow," Mum mumbles half in her sleep, and then adds with a smile: "Maybe we can hide it in the stroller?"

"She's still just a nagging old busybody," Elsa mutters.

Mum smiles. And then she gets comfortable on the pillows and Elsa helps her push one of them under her back, and Mum strokes her cheek and whispers: "I want to hear the stories now, if that's all right. I want to hear the fairy tales from Miamas."

"Britt-Marie doesn't mean any harm, she just needs to feel important," Mum tries to explain.

Mum's hand fumbles for her as she's standing up, and just as Elsa is about to go, Mum whispers in a half-asleep state: "All the photos on the ceiling in your grandmother's bedroom, darling. All the children in the photos. They were the ones who came to the funeral today. They're grown-up now. They were allowed to grow up because your granny saved their lives…"

And Elsa still has a thousand questions but does not ask any of them. She just covers Mum and Halfie with the blanket and kisses Mum on the cheek and forces herself to be brave. Because she has to do what Granny made her promise to do: protect the castle, protect her family, protect her friends.

And then Elsa whispers calmly that Mum has to close her eyes but only halfway, and then Mum does as she says, and Elsa has a thousand questions but does not ask any of them. Instead she talks about the cloud animals and the enphants and the regretters and lions and trolls and knights and the Noween and Wolfheart and the snow-angels and the sea-angel and the dream hunters, and she starts talking about the Princess of Miploris and the two princelings who fought for her love, and the witch who stole the princess's treasure, but by then Mum and Halfie are asleep.

"No shit, Sherlock," whispers Elsa as she switches off the lamp. Because it wasn't so hard working out who the strangers were. It was forgiving them that was hard.

And then Mum is asleep again. Elsa is not entirely sure that she even woke up.

Mum sleeps with a smile on her lips. Elsa carefully shuts the door.

She goes out the door, into the stairwell, thinking to herself that she'll go back to the wurse in the garage. But instead, she sinks listlessly onto the floor. Sits there forever. Tries to think but only finds emptiness and silence where usually there are thoughts.

The flat smells of dishcloth, and George is collecting used coffee cups. The strangers were all here today drinking coffee after the funeral. They smiled sympathetically at Elsa and Elsa hates them for it. Hates that they knew Granny before she did. She goes into Granny's flat and lies on Granny's bed. The streetlight outside plays against the photos on the ceiling, and, as she watches, Elsa still doesn't know if she can forgive Granny for leaving Mum on her own so she could save other children. She doesn't know if Mum can forgive it either. Even if she seems to be trying.

"You were at the funeral?"

She looks small. Sounds tired, but it's a different kind of tiredness than usual. A better tiredness, this time. And she smells of neither mint nor wine. Just shampoo.

"Hello," says Elsa.

"I don't know."

She can hear the footsteps coming from a couple floors down -- soft, padding gently, as if they're lost. Not at all the self-assured, energetic pacing the woman in the black skirt used to have when she was still smelling of mint and talking into a white cable. She wears jeans now. And no white cable. She stops about ten steps below Elsa.

The woman's lips disappear.

"Hi," says the woman.

The woman shakes her head apologetically. "I wasn't there. Sorry. I… I couldn't. But I…" She swallows the words. Looks down at her hands. "I went to my… my boys' graves. I haven't been there in a very long time."

"I went to the churchyard today," says the woman slowly.

"Did it help?" asks Elsa.

Elsa nods. The lights in the stairwell go out. She waits for her eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness. Finally the woman seems to gather all her strength into a smile, and the skin around her mouth doesn't crack quite as much anymore.

"How was the funeral?" she asks.

Elsa doesn't respond. The woman seems to become ill at ease.

Elsa lets her hair fall over her face. The woman scratches her neck.

"You look angry."

"It's… I understand it's hard. To know that your granny left home to help strangers somewhere else… Me, for instance."

The woman looks slightly confused and glances down at what she's holding in her hands. Her fingers drum against it.

Elsa looks slightly suspicious. It's as if the woman read her thoughts.

Elsa shrugs. "Like a normal funeral. Far too many people."

"Sometimes it's hard to share one's sorrow with people one doesn't know. But I think… there were many people who were very fond of your grandmother."

"I'm not angry at you. I'm just angry at stupid Britt-Marie," she decides to say in the end.

"It's known as 'the trolley problem.' In ethics. I mean, for students. At university. It's… it's the discussion of whether it's morally right to sacrifice one person in order to save many others. You can probably read about it on Wikipedia."

Elsa shrugs and tries to decide what she's most angry about. There's a fairly long list.

"What are you talking about?" Elsa bursts out, secretly pleased that the woman speaks to her as if Elsa is not a child.

"Sorry, that's… that was Nietzsche. He was a German philosopher. It's… ah, I'm probably misquoting him. But I think it could mean that if you hate the one who hates, you could risk becoming like the one you hate."

"Don't fight with monsters, for you can become one. If you look into the abyss for long enough, the abyss looks into you."

Elsa's shoulders shoot up to her ears.

"Yes, yes, that's probably a better way of putting it."

"Granny always said: 'Don't kick the shit, it'll go all over the place!' "

"This was on my boys'… on their… it was on their headstone. I don't… don't know who put it there. But your granny -- maybe she figured out that I'd come…"

And that's the first time Elsa hears the woman in the black skirt, who now wears jeans, really burst out laughing.

She's beautiful when she laughs. It suits her. And then she takes two steps towards Elsa and reaches out as far as she can to give her the envelope that she's holding, without having to move too close.

Lennart is holding a coffee cup in his hand when he opens the door. Maud and Samantha are behind him, both looking very sweet. They smell of cookies.

"I have a letter for you," Elsa declares.

Elsa takes the envelope. The woman in jeans has disappeared down the stairs before she has time to look up from the envelope. On it, it says, "To Elsa! Give this to Lennart and Maud!"

And that is how Elsa finds Granny's third letter.

Lennart takes it and is just about to say something, but Elsa goes on: "It's from my granny! She's probably sending her regards and saying sorry, because that's what she's doing in all the letters."

Lennart nods meekly. Maud nods even more meekly.

Samantha barks. Even her bark sounds friendly. Elsa takes a dream from the proffered tin, filled to the top. She smiles cooperatively at Maud.

"I have a friend who likes dreams very much. And he's been on his own all day. Do you think it would be all right to bring him up?"

Maud and Lennart nod as if it goes without saying.

"We're so terribly sad about this whole thing with your grandmother, dear Elsa. But it was such a wonderfully beautiful funeral, we thought. We're so glad that we were invited. Come in and have a dream -- and Alf brought over some of that chocolate drink as well." Maud beams.