The Lost Boy (Patrick Hedstrom and Erica Falck, Book 7) Page 3

  ‘Wouldn’t you like some more?’ she ventured as Matte put down his fork. Half of the huge portion of food was still left on his plate.

  ‘That’s enough, Signe,’ said Gunnar. ‘Leave the boy alone.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Matte, giving them a wan smile.

  Mamma’s boy. He didn’t want her to suffer a scolding for his sake, even though after forty years with her husband, she knew that Gunnar’s bark was worse than his bite. In fact, it would be hard to find a kinder man. She knew that the problem was hers, that she worried too much.

  ‘I’m sorry, Matte. Of course you don’t have to eat any more.’

  She called him by the nickname that he’d had since he first learned to talk but couldn’t say his name properly. He’d called himself Matte, and everybody else had done the same.

  ‘Guess who’s home for a visit,’ she went on, cheerfully, reaching for the plates so she could clear the table.

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Nathalie.’

  Matte gave a start and looked at her.

  ‘Nathalie? My Nathalie?’

  Gunnar chuckled. ‘I knew that would wake you up. You’ve always had a bit of a crush on her.’

  ‘Hey, knock it off.’

  Signe suddenly pictured in her mind the teenage boy, a lock of hair falling into his eyes, as he told her with a stammer that he had a girlfriend.

  ‘I took some groceries over to her today,’ said Gunnar. ‘She’s over on Ghost Isle.’

  ‘Oh, don’t call it that.’ Signe shuddered. ‘Its name is Gråskär.’

  ‘When did she arrive?’ asked Matte.

  ‘Yesterday, I think. And she has the boy with her.’

  ‘How long is she staying?’

  ‘She said she doesn’t know.’ Gunnar stuck a wad of snuff under his upper lip and contentedly leaned back in his chair.

  ‘Was she … was she the same?’

  Gunnar nodded. ‘Sure, of course she was just the same, our little Nathalie. Exactly the same. Although I thought she had a slightly sad look in her eyes, but maybe that’s my imagination. Maybe they had a quarrel back home. What do I know?’

  ‘Don’t go speculating about such matters,’ Signe scolded him. ‘Did you see the boy?’

  ‘No. Nathalie met me down at the dock, and I didn’t stay long. Why don’t you go out there and say hello?’ Gunnar said, turning to Matte. ‘I’m sure she’d be happy to have a visitor out there on Ghost Isle. Sorry. I mean, Gråskär,’ he added, giving his wife an annoyed look.

  ‘That’s all a bunch of nonsense and old superstitions. I don’t think we should be encouraging that sort of thing,’ said Signe, a deep furrow appearing between her brows.

  ‘Nathalie believes it,’ said Matte quietly. ‘She always said that she knew they were there.’

  ‘What do you mean by “they”?’ Much as Signe would have preferred to change the subject, she was curious to hear what Matte would say.

  ‘The dead. Nathalie said that she sometimes she saw them and heard them, but they didn’t mean any harm. They just ended up staying there.’

  ‘That’s awful. Now I think it’s time for dessert. I’ve made rhubarb pudding.’ Signe stood up abruptly. ‘Pappa’s right about one thing, though, even if he does talk a lot of drivel. It would make her happy to have you visit.’

  Matte didn’t reply. He looked as if he were far away in his thoughts.

  FJÄLLBACKA 1870

  Emelie was terrified. She had never even seen the sea, let alone sailed on it in what seemed to be a very unstable boat. She had a tight grip on the railing. It felt as if she was being tossed forward and backward by the waves, with no chance of putting up any resistance or governing her own body. She sought Karl’s eye, but he was standing there with a resolute expression, staring out at what awaited them far ahead.

  The words were still ringing in her ears. They were probably nothing more than the superstitious ramblings of an old woman, but she couldn’t help thinking about them. The woman had asked where they were headed when they loaded their belongings on to the small sailboat down at the Fjällbacka harbour.

  ‘Gråskär,’ Emelie had answered happily. ‘My husband Karl is the new lighthouse keeper on the island.’

  The woman didn’t seem impressed. Instead, she had snorted and with a strange little smile she said, ‘Gråskär? Oh, I see. In these parts nobody calls it Gråskär.’

  ‘Is that right?’ Emelie had the feeling that she really shouldn’t ask, but her curiosity got the better of her. ‘So what do you call it then?’

  At first the old woman didn’t reply. Then she lowered her voice and said, ‘In these parts we call it Ghost Isle.’

  ‘Ghost Isle?’ Emelie’s nervous laughter had carried over the water in the early morning haze. ‘How strange. Why?’

  The old woman’s eyes glittered when she spoke. ‘Because it’s said that those who die out there never leave the island.’ Then she turned on her heel and left Emelie standing there among all the bags and suitcases, with an awful lump in her stomach instead of the joy and anticipation that had filled her only a few moments ago.

  And now it felt as if she might meet death at any second. The sea was so vast, so untamed, and it seemed to be drawing her towards it. She couldn’t swim. If any of the waves, which looked so big even though Karl said they were only small swells, should capsize the boat, she was convinced that she would be pulled down into the deep. She gripped the railing harder, fixing her eyes on the floor, or the deck as Karl claimed it was called.

  ‘Over there is Gråskär.’

  Karl’s voice demanded that she look, so she took a deep breath and raised her eyes to stare in the direction he was pointing. Her first thought was that the island was so beautiful. The cottage, though small, seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, and the grey rocks gleamed. She saw hollyhocks growing at one end of the house, and she was amazed that they could thrive in such a barren setting. To the west the island shoreline was very steep, as if the cliffs had been sheared in half. But in the other directions the rocks sloped gradually towards the water.

  Suddenly the waves didn’t seem so rough. She still longed to feel solid ground under her feet, but Gråskär had already enchanted her. And she pushed the old woman’s words about Ghost Isle to the very back of her mind. Something that was so beautiful couldn’t possibly conceal anything bad.

  2

  She had heard them in the night. The same whispering, the same voices that she recalled from when she was a child. Her watch told her that it was three a.m. when she awoke. At first she didn’t know what had caused her to wake up. Then she heard them. They were talking downstairs. A chair scraped. What did the dead talk about with each other? About things that had happened before they died? Or about what was taking place now, many years later?

  Nathalie had been aware of their presence on the island for as long as she could remember. Her mother had said that, even as a baby, Nathalie would suddenly start laughing and waving her arms, as if she saw things that no one else could see. As she grew older, she became more and more conscious of them. A voice, something flitting past, the feeling that somebody else was in the room. But they didn’t mean her any harm. She knew that back then, and she knew that now. For a long time she lay awake, listening to them until the voices finally lulled her back to sleep.

  When morning arrived, she remembered the sounds as nothing more than a far-away dream. She made breakfast for herself and Sam, but he refused to eat his favourite cereal.

  ‘Please, sweetie. Just one spoonful. Just a teeny bit?’ she coaxed him but was unable to get him to take a single bite. With a sigh she put down the spoon. ‘You have to eat, you know.’ She stroked his cheek.

  He hadn’t uttered a word since everything happened. But Nathalie pushed her concern to a far corner of her mind. She needed to allow him time and not try to pressure him; she simply had to be available to him as he processed the memories, putting them away and replacing them with others. And there
was no better place to do that than here on Gråskär, far away from everything else, near the cliffs, the sun, and the salty sea.

  ‘You know what, let’s skip breakfast and go out for a swim instead.’ When she received no answer, she simply picked him up and carried him outside into the sun. Tenderly she took off his clothes and carried him down to the water, as if he were only a year old and not a big boy of five. The water wasn’t very warm, but he offered no objections as she sank down, immersing both of them while pressing his head protectively to her chest. This was the best medicine. They would stay here until the storm subsided. Until everything was back to normal.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d come in until Monday,’ said Annika, peering over the tops of her computer glasses to look at Patrik. He had stopped in the doorway to her office, which was also the station’s reception area.

  ‘Erica threw me out. She claimed she was sick and tired of seeing my ugly mug at home.’ He attempted a laugh, but thoughts of the previous day were still with him, so the laugh didn’t reach his eyes.

  ‘I know exactly what she means,’ said Annika, but her expression was as melancholy as Patrik’s. The death of a child affected everyone. Since Annika and her husband Lennart had learned that they would soon be able to bring home their long-awaited adoptive child from China, she was even more sensitive when it came to children who were hurt or harmed in some way.

  ‘Is there anything going on?’ asked Patrik.

  ‘No, I wouldn’t say that. Just the usual. Old Mrs Strömberg has called for the third time this week to say that her son-in-law is trying to kill her. And a few kids were picked up for shoplifting at Hedemyr’s.’

  ‘Super busy, in other words.’

  ‘Right. The big topic of conversation at the moment is that we’ve received an invitation to come and sample all the wonders on offer at that new place – Badis.’

  ‘That sounds tempting. I reckon I should volunteer for that particular job.’

  ‘At any rate, it’s good to see the transformation Badis has undergone,’ said Annika. ‘The building used to look as if it might fall apart at any moment.’

  ‘Yes, it’s great. But I doubt it’s going to be profitable. It must have cost a fortune to restore the place. And do you think people will really want to go to a spa there?’

  ‘If not, Erling’s going to be in hot water. I have a friend who works for the local council, and she told me that they’ve invested a large part of their budget in the project.’

  ‘I can well imagine. And there’s a lot of buzz in Fjällbacka about the opening festivities that they’re planning. That’s not going to be cheap either.’

  ‘The whole police force is invited, in case you hadn’t heard. So we’re all going to have to put on our best clothes.’

  ‘Is everyone out?’ asked Patrik, changing the subject. He wasn’t particularly keen on getting dressed up for a fancy party.

  ‘Yes, except Mellberg. He’s probably in his office, as usual. Nothing has changed, even though he claims that he came back to work before his leave was over because the station was on the verge of falling apart without him. From what Paula told me, they were forced to find another childcare solution before Leo started on a career as a sumo wrestler. Apparently the last straw was when Rita came home early one day and found Bertil stuffing a load of hamburger into the blender for Leo. She went straight back to her job and asked her boss to let her work part-time for the next few months.’

  ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘No, it’s the gospel truth. So now we’re going to have to deal with him on a full-time basis. At least Ernst is happy about it. Mellberg left him here at the station while he was home with Leo, and the poor dog looked like he was pining away. He just lay in his basket and whined.’

  ‘Well, I suppose it’s good to know that nothing has changed,’ said Patrik. He headed for his office, taking a deep breath before he stepped inside. Maybe work would make him forget the sad events of the previous day.

  She was never going to get up again. She would just lie here in bed and stare out of the window at the sky, which was sometimes blue, sometimes grey. For a moment she even wished that she was back in the hospital. Things had been so much simpler there. So calm and peaceful. Everyone had been so caring and considerate, speaking in low voices and helping her to eat and wash. Here at home there were too many noises disturbing her. She could hear the children playing, and their shouts reverberated through the house. Every once in a while they would come in to peer at her, their eyes big. It felt as if they were demanding something from her, as if they wanted something that she couldn’t give.

  ‘Anna, are you asleep?’

  Dan’s voice. She would have liked to pretend that she was sleeping, but she knew he wouldn’t be fooled.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’ve made you some food. Tomato soup with toast and goat’s cheese. I thought you might want to come downstairs to eat with us. The kids are asking for you.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No, you don’t want to eat? Or no, you won’t come downstairs?’

  Anna could hear the frustration in his voice, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything any more. There was nothing but a huge empty space inside of her. No tears, no sorrow, no anger.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You have to eat. You have to …’ His voice broke, and he set the tray down on her bedside table with a bang, making some of the tomato soup slosh over the side of the bowl.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I lost a child too, Anna. And the kids lost a brother. We need you. We …’

  She heard him searching for words. But in her head, there was room for only one word. A single word that had lodged inside of the emptiness. She looked away.

  ‘No.’

  After a moment she heard Dan leave the room. She turned to look out of the window again.

  It worried her that he seemed so distant.

  ‘My dear Sam.’ She cradled him in her arms, stroking his hair. He still hadn’t made a sound. It occurred to her that maybe she should have taken him to a doctor, but she quickly dismissed the idea. She wasn’t ready to let anyone else into their world yet. If he just had some peace and quiet, he would soon be himself again.

  ‘Do you want to take a little afternoon nap, sweetie?’

  He didn’t answer, but she carried him to his bed and tucked him in. Then she made herself a pot of coffee, poured some into a cup along with some milk and went outside to sit on the dock, savouring the warmth of the sun on her face. Fredrik had loved the sun; in fact, he had worshipped it. He was always complaining about how cold it was in Sweden and how seldom the sun shone.

  Why was she suddenly thinking about him? She had pushed all such thoughts to the back of her mind. He no longer had any place in their lives. Fredrik, with his constant demands and his need to have control over everything and everyone. Mostly over her – and Sam.

  Out here on Gråskär there was no trace of him. He’d never been to the island; it was all hers. He had never wanted to come here. ‘I’ll be damned if I’m going to park myself on some fucking rock,’ he’d said the few times that she’d asked him. She was glad that he’d refused to come. The island hadn’t been sullied by his presence. It was a pure place that belonged only to her and Sam.

  She wrapped her hands tightly around the coffee cup. The years had passed so swiftly. Time had flown by so fast, and in the end she was stuck. There was no escape, no possibility of fleeing. She had no one other than Fredrik and Sam. Where was she supposed to have gone?

  At least now they were finally free. She felt the salt breeze brush her face. They had done it. She and Sam. After he recovered, they could live their own life.

  Nathalie was home. He had thought about her all evening after having dinner with his parents. Nathalie with the long blond hair and the freckles on her nose and arms. Nathalie who smelled of the sea and summer. After all these years he could still feel her warmth in his embrace. It was true what they said: you neve
r forget your first love. And those three summers on Gråskär could only be described as magical. He had gone over to see her as often as he could, and together they had made the small island their own.

  But occasionally she had scared him. Her clear laughter would suddenly come to an abrupt halt, and then she seemed to disappear into a darkness where he couldn’t reach her. She was never able to put words to the feeling that came over her, and eventually he learned to leave her alone whenever it happened. During that last summer the darkness had come more and more often, and she had slowly slipped away from him. In August, when he waved goodbye to her as she boarded the train for Stockholm with her luggage, he knew that it was over.

  Since then, they hadn’t been in touch at all. The following year he had tried to phone her when her parents passed away, one dying very soon after the other, but he got through only to her voicemail. She never called him back. And the cottage on Gråskär stood empty. He knew that his mother and father went out there once in a while to look after the place, and that Nathalie occasionally sent money to pay them for their efforts. But she had never come back, and over time his memories of her had faded.

  Now Nathalie had returned. Matte stared into space as he sat at his desk. His suspicions about the spa project funding were getting stronger, and there were things he needed to tend to. But thoughts of Nathalie kept intruding. When the afternoon sun began sinking over the Tanumshede council building, he gathered up all the documents lying in front of him. He had to see Nathalie. With resolute steps he left his office, pausing to exchange a few words with Erling before he headed out to his car. His hand was shaking as he put the key in the ignition and started up the engine.

  ‘You’re home so early, darling!’

  Vivianne came to greet Erling, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. He couldn’t resist catching hold of her, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her close.