And one day she was lying there in a hospital and holding his hand and telling him not to worry. Everything was going to be all right. Easy for her to say, thought Ove, his breast pulsating with anger and sorrow. But she just whispered, ‘Everything will be fine, darling Ove,’ and leaned her arm against his arm. And then gently pushed her index finger into the palm of his hand. And then closed her eyes and died.
