The Girl in the Woods (Patrik Hedstrom and Erica Falck, Book 10) Page 29

  She wondered what Preben had said to Britta. After carrying Märta inside the house, he’d allowed the child to stay for two nights in his own bed while he slept in the room meant for guests. And Britta had not once dared look Elin in the eye. They simply went about their usual routines. Nothing changed in terms of practical matters, and their conversation was confined to discussing the tasks Britta wished her to do, as it had been ever since Elin and Märta came to the vicarage. But Britta carefully avoided looking at Elin. Only once, when Elin turned around after shaking out Britta’s feather bed, did she catch her sister staring at her. And the hatred in Britta’s eyes nearly knocked her over. She realized her sister had now become an even bigger enemy. But it was better if Britta directed her loathing at her instead of at Märta. She had Preben to thank for that. Whatever he had said to his wife, it had worked. Britta would not dare go after Märta again. But he could not mend the anguish the girl’s soul had suffered. A child’s trust was one of God’s most fragile gifts, and it was this gift that Britta had stolen.

  ‘Elin?’

  Preben’s voice from the kitchen doorway nearly made her drop the vessel she was washing.

  ‘Yes?’ she said, turning around as she dried her hands on her apron.

  They had not spoken all week, and she suddenly pictured how he had looked when he ran ahead of her through the woods: his white shirt visible among the trees, his desperate expression when Märta’s face slowly slipped beneath the dark surface of the water, and the tenderness in his eyes as he carried the little girl home. Elin suddenly found it hard to breathe. Her hands were shaking so much she hid them under her apron.

  ‘Come with me, please,’ he said eagerly. ‘Is Märta in the servant quarters?’

  Elin frowned, wondering what he might want. A lock of blond hair had fallen over his forehead, and she had to clasp her hands so as not to step forward to brush the hair out of his eyes.

  She nodded.

  ‘Yes, she is,’ she replied. ‘At least, she was when I last saw her. She does not go out as she used to.’

  She immediately regretted her words, which were a much too blunt reminder of what had happened. A reminder of the dark water and Britta’s malicious actions. His wife’s malicious actions.

  ‘Well, come along. What are you waiting for?’

  Reluctantly Elin followed him out of the house.

  ‘Lill-Jan? Where are you?’ he called when they entered the farmyard. His face lit up when he saw the farmhand coming towards him, carrying something in his arms.

  ‘What is it?’ Elin asked.

  She looked around uneasily. The last thing she wanted was for Britta to see her out here in the middle of the yard talking to her husband. But it was impossible to ignore Preben’s joy as he carefully took something from Lill-Jan.

  ‘I understand that Märta is missing Viola. So when Pärla had puppies last night, I thought Märta might like to have one of them.’

  ‘That is much too dear a gift,’ said Elin sternly, hastily turning away to hide her tears.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Preben, holding out a white puppy with brown spots.

  The tiny creature was so adorable, Elin could not resist reaching out her hand to gently scratch behind the dog’s long, soft ears.

  ‘I need help raising this little rascal to become a good herding dog, and I thought Märta might lend a hand. Pärla will not be able to protect the sheep for many more years, so we will need another dog to take over. I believe this pup will make a good shepherd’s dog. What do you think, Elin?’

  Again he held out the puppy, and she knew she could not object. The dog’s brown eyes looked at her with such trust as it stuck out a paw towards her.

  ‘Yes, as long as Märta learns what is needed to raise the dog, I suppose it will be fine,’ she said, trying to maintain her stern tone though her heart was melting.

  ‘Then I humbly thank Märta’s mother for permission,’ said Preben with a teasing smile. He started towards the servants’ quarters.

  After a few metres he turned and gave her an encouraging nod.

  ‘Come. I thought you would like to see the child receive the puppy.’

  He briskly set off again, and Elin hurried after him. This was not something she wanted to miss.

  They found Märta lying in bed. Her eyes were open as she stared up at the ceiling. Not until Preben knelt down next to the bed did she turn to look at him.

  ‘May I ask a favour of you, Märta?’ said Preben gently.

  The girl nodded, her expression solemn.

  ‘I need your help taking care of this little creature. She is weaker than the other puppies, and her mother refuses to accept her. If she does not find another mother, she will starve to death. And I thought to myself, who would be better able to help her than Mistress Märta. If you have the time and inclination, of course. It will be a hard job, I cannot lie. She will need food at all hours of the day and night, and all sorts of care. And she needs a name, too. The poor thing does not even have a name.’

  ‘I can do it!’ said Märta, immediately sitting up with her eyes fixed on the puppy, who was struggling to get out of the cloth wrapped around her.

  Preben loosened the cloth and placed the dog on the bed next to Märta, who instantly burrowed her face in the animal’s soft fur. The puppy began licking her face, its tail wagging from side to side.

  Elin felt herself smiling, and she had not done that in a long time. And when she felt Preben’s hand clasp hers, she did not pull away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The pillow felt lumpy under her head, but Eva didn’t feel like changing position. Another sleepless night. She couldn’t remember when she’d last slept. A fog had settled over her life. Her meaningless life. What was the point of getting out of bed? Or talking to each other? Or breathing? Peter couldn’t give her any answers. His eyes were as empty as hers, his touch just as cold. During those first hours they had tried to comfort one another, but Peter was now a stranger. They moved about in the same house without touching, each wrapped in their own grief.

  Peter’s parents were doing what they could, making sure she and Peter ate something and went to bed when they should. The few times she’d looked out the window, Eva was surprised to see the flowers still looking so lovely. The sun was shining as it had before, the carrots were flourishing in the garden, and the tomatoes were gleaming red on their stalks.

  Peter sighed next to her. She’d heard him quietly crying in the night, but she couldn’t bring herself to reach out and take his hand.

  She heard Bengt’s heavy footsteps nearing the stairs down below.

  ‘Someone’s coming,’ he called.

  Eva nodded to herself. With an effort she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

  ‘Your father says someone is coming,’ she said, looking at her feet.

  ‘Okay,’ said Peter in a low voice.

  The bed creaked behind her as he sat up. For a moment they sat there in silence, their backs to each other and a shattered world between them.

  Slowly she got up and went downstairs. She’d slept in her clothes, the same clothes she’d worn on the day Nea disappeared. Ulla had tried many times to get her to change, but these were the clothes she’d had on the last time she thought everything was normal, the clothes she’d imagined herself wearing when she hugged Nea, played with Nea, made dinner for her.

  Bengt was standing at the kitchen window.

  ‘I can see two police cars,’ he said, craning his neck. ‘Maybe they’ve made a breakthrough.’

  Eva merely nodded. She pulled out a chair and sat down. What did it matter now? Nothing in the world would give her Nea back.

  Bengt went to the front door to let the police in. They spoke quietly in the hall, and she could hear Gösta’s voice. Thank goodness they’d sent him.

  Gösta was the first to enter the kitchen. He looked from her to Peter, who had come downstairs and was sitting at the table. She could see at once that something was trou
bling him.

  Bengt was standing next to the cooker. Ulla stood behind Peter with her hands on his shoulders.

  ‘Have you found out anything?’ asked Bengt.

  Gösta shook his head, still with the same troubled expression on his face.

  ‘No, I’m afraid there’s nothing new to tell you at the moment,’ he said. ‘But we’re going to have to search your house.’

  Bengt turned red with fury and took a few steps towards Gösta.

  ‘You must be joking. Isn’t it enough that their lives have been completely destroyed?’

  Ulla went over to him and put her hand on his arm. He pulled his arm away, but didn’t say anything more.

  ‘Let them do it,’ said Eva.

  Then she got up and went back upstairs. She could hear angry voices in the kitchen, but none of it mattered to her any more.

  ‘Are we going to get a lot of visits from the police?’

  Jörgen was leaning against a bench in the make-up area. Marie frowned as she looked at him in the mirror. Her make-up was done, and her hair had been styled. She was just doing a few touch-ups of her own.

  ‘How would I know?’ she asked, wiping off a bit of eyeliner that had gathered at the corner of her right eye.

  Jörgen snorted and turned away. ‘I should never have got involved with you.’

  ‘What’s this all about? Is it because you found it unpleasant when the police asked you about my alibi? Or are you thinking about your wife and kids back home?’

  Jörgen’s expression darkened.

  ‘My family has nothing to do with this.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  She smiled at him in the mirror.

  Jörgen stared at her without speaking, then he stormed out, leaving her alone.

  Men! They were so predictable. Much as they wanted to sleep with her, they never wanted to deal with the consequences of their actions. She’d seen how her father had treated her mother. The bruises left by his blows when he didn’t get what he wanted. In the first family Marie was placed with, the father of the house had shown her exactly what he thought she was good for.

  Helen hadn’t been placed with strangers. She’d been allowed to return home to her parents because they offered ‘a stable home environment’. But Marie wasn’t envious. She knew the sort of pressure Helen was subjected to at home.

  She realized that people had viewed her and Helen as an odd pair, but in reality they belonged together like two puzzle pieces. Each had found in the other the thing that they were lacking, and it had given them a reason to live. They had shared their worries, making them so much easier to bear.

  When they were forbidden to see each other, they hadn’t let that stop them. It had turned into an exciting game, finding ways to meet in secret. It was the two of them against the world. How naive they had been. Neither of them had understood how serious the situation was. Not even on that day in the police interrogation room. She’d been surrounded by an armour she thought would protect her and keep anything from happening to them.

  But then it had all fallen apart. And Marie had ended up in the foster-home circus.

  A few months after she turned eighteen, Marie packed a suitcase and never looked back. At long last she was free. From her parents. From her siblings. And from the long series of foster families.

  Her brothers had tried to contact her several times – when her parents died and when she got her first role in a Hollywood film. A minor role, but it was still big enough news to make the Swedish papers. According to her brothers, they were family after all, and she was no longer merely a shitty brat. Via her attorney she let them know she wanted nothing to do with them. They were as good as dead to her.

  She heard Jörgen swearing loudly somewhere. Let him sulk. Thanks to her and all the articles in the papers over the past few days, the financial backers no longer had any doubts, and any questions about whether the film would get made had now been resolved. She had no reason to worry about his misgivings. She also knew that this wasn’t the first time he’d been unfaithful to his wife while on location; it had happened on every movie he’d ever made. That had nothing to do with her. Keeping his trousers zipped was his problem.

  Again she pictured Helen’s face.

  She had seen her at the Hedemyr supermarket yesterday afternoon. Marie had gone there after the day’s filming ended. She turned a corner, and there was Helen, holding a grocery list in her hand. Marie quickly backed away. She didn’t think Helen saw her.

  The sneer on Marie’s bright lips slowly faded. Helen had looked so old. That was probably the most difficult thing for her to accept. Marie didn’t dare even think about the fortune she’d spent over the years on beauty treatments and plastic surgery, while Helen had simply let the years take their toll.

  Marie looked at herself in the mirror. For the first time in a long while, she truly saw herself. But she didn’t dare meet her gaze when it was no longer protected by the security of caring only about herself. Slowly she turned away. She no longer knew who the woman in the mirror was.

  ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ asked Anna, placing her hands on her belly. ‘How do we keep a straight face if the dress turns out to be awful?’

  ‘I’m mentally preparing myself for something salmon-coloured,’ said Erica, driving towards Grebbestad.

  ‘For us too?’ said Anna, horrified.

  ‘Well, probably not for you. I’m sure they’ll find some kind of eight-man tent and rework it to fit you. You’d better be prepared to see the Fjällräven logo somewhere on your dress.’

  ‘Ha, ha. That’s so funny. I didn’t know my big sister was a comedian.’

  ‘Yup. Think how lucky you are!’ said Erica, smiling.

  She got out of the car and slammed the door.

  ‘Hey, wait a minute,’ she said. ‘I forgot to ask you. Wasn’t that you I saw yesterday when I was driving home from Marstrand?’

  ‘What? No.’

  Anna groaned. How stupid could she be? She’d thought up a good explanation, but the impulse to deny the encounter had come faster than her ability to spout the story she’d made up.

  ‘But I’m sure it was your car. And I saw a woman behind the wheel. Did you lend the car to someone?’

  Anna felt her sister giving her a searching look as they entered the main shopping street. The wedding gown boutique was a few hundred metres away. They had agreed to meet Kristina there.

  ‘Oh, how stupid of me. Sorry. It’s the pregnancy and the heat and all of this …’ Anna managed a smile. ‘I went to see a new client yesterday. I simply couldn’t stand sitting at home any longer.’

  It was the best explanation she could come up with, but Erica looked sceptical.

  ‘A new client? Now? When the baby is just about to pop out? How will you find the energy?’

  ‘Oh, it’s not a big assignment. Only a little something to keep me busy while I’m waiting for the birth.’

  Erica looked at her suspiciously but decided to drop the subject. Anna gave a sigh of relief.

  ‘Here it is,’ said Erica, pointing at a shop with wedding gowns on display in the window.

  Through the glass they could see that Kristina had already arrived and was in full swing, discussing her wants and needs.

  ‘Does it have to be so low-cut?’ they heard her say shrilly as they went inside. ‘I don’t remember it looking like that the last time I saw it. I can’t possibly wear that! Good lord, I’d look like the madam of a brothel! You must have redone the neckline!’

  ‘We haven’t touched it,’ said the shop clerk.

  The woman looked stressed, and Anna gave her a sympathetic smile. She liked Erica’s mother-in-law. Anna didn’t believe Kristina had a mean bone in her body, but it was true she could be somewhat … overwhelming at times. Especially if you weren’t used to her.

  ‘Maybe you should try it on again, Kristina,’ said Erica. ‘Sometimes clothes look different on than they do hanging up.’

  ‘Why would they d
o that?’ said Kristina impatiently as she kissed first Erica and then Anna on the cheek. ‘Good heavens, you’re big!’

  For a second Anna wondered how best to reply, then decided not to say anything at all. When it came to Kristina, you had to choose your battles.

  ‘I don’t see why a dress should look different on a hanger,’ said Kristina. ‘But I’ll try it on to prove I’m right. Something must have been done to the neckline.’

  She turned on her heel and went into the dressing room.

  ‘I hope you’re not planning to stay in here while I change,’ Kristina told the shop assistant, who had hung the dress in the room. ‘I don’t get undressed for anyone but my husband, thank you very much.’

  She shooed the woman out and pulled the curtain closed with a magisterial gesture.

  Anna was fighting so hard to hold back the laughter that her eyes filled with tears. When she glanced at Erica, she saw her sister was struggling too.

  ‘Sorry,’ Erica whispered to the shop assistant.

  The woman gave a shrug and whispered back:

  ‘I work in a shop selling wedding gowns. Believe me, I’ve seen worse.’

  ‘How on earth does anyone expect me to pull up the zipper?’ Kristina hissed, shoving the curtain aside.

  She had put on the dress and was holding it up by clutching the front to her chest. With the patience of an angel, the assistant stepped behind her and pulled up the zipper. Then she took a few steps away and allowed the future bride to look at herself in the mirror.

  For a few seconds Kristina didn’t say a word. Then she murmured in surprise:

  ‘It’s … it’s actually wonderful.’