A big young man came out of the plane with a short, thin, grey-haired one – Harald and Carl. Helen could see that Carl’s face was very white and there was blood on his mouth, but he could walk all right.
Carl saw her coming, a small strong figure walking through the rain, with a crowd of police and photographers around her. ‘Harald, my friend,’ he said. ‘I think we’re in the news again. You’re going to have another photo to show your little son on his birthday.’
Carl and Helen Sandberg met at the bottom of the steps in the darkness and the rain. And Carl was right; there was a photo of it in every newspaper in the world the next day.
