Authors: Camilla Läckberg
‘Darling, of course I do! We’re going to have a fantastic day on Saturday, the best of our lives, except for the day Maja was born, of course. And I promise to be happy and upbeat and completely focused on you and our day. Don’t worry. I’m longing to marry you.’
Erica gave him a searching look, but she saw nothing but honesty in his eyes.
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’ Patrik smiled. ‘And don’t think that I don’t know what an enormous effort you and Anna have put into planning everything.’
‘I know you’ve had plenty on your mind. Besides, it’s done Anna some good,’ Erica said, glancing into the living room where Anna had settled down on the sofa with Emma and Adrian to watch kiddie TV. Maja was still asleep, and despite Patrik’s gloomy mood it felt luxurious to have him to herself for a while.
‘I just wish . . .’ Erica broke off.
Patrik seemed to read her thoughts. ‘You just wish that your parents could have been here.’
‘Yes, or no . . . To be completely honest I wish that Pappa could have been here. Mamma probably would have been as uninterested as she always was in whatever Anna and I do.’
‘Have you and Anna talked anymore about Elsy? About why she was like that?’
‘No,’ said Erica pensively. ‘But I’ve thought a lot about it. It’s strange that we know so little about Mamma’s life before she met Pappa. The only thing she ever said was that her parents had been dead a long time – that’s all that Anna and I know. We’ve never even seen any photos of them. Isn’t that odd?’
Patrik nodded. ‘Yes, it does sound strange. Maybe you should do some research into your genealogy? You’re good at rooting around in such things, digging up facts. It’s just a matter of getting started as soon as the wedding is over with.’
‘Over with?’ said Erica in an ominous tone. ‘Do you regard our wedding as something we need to “get over with” . . .’
‘No,’ Patrik said, and then couldn’t think of anything better to say. Instead he dunked his crispbread in the hot chocolate. He knew when it was best to lie low. And let the food silence anything else he might say.
‘Well, today the fun comes to an end.’
Lars had wanted to meet with them under less formal conditions than usual, so he invited them for coffee and cakes at Pappa’s Lunch Café, which to no one’s surprise was located on the high street in Tanumshede.
‘It’s gonna be fucking great to get out of here,’ said Uffe, stuffing a pastry into his mouth.
Jonna looked at him in disgust, chewing instead on an apple.
‘What sort of plans have you got?’ said Lars, slurping a bit as he drank his tea. The cast members had watched in fascination as he plunked six lumps of sugar into his cup.
‘The usual,’ said Calle. ‘Go home and see my mates. Go out and booze it up. The babes at Kharma have missed me.’ He laughed, but his eyes looked dull and full of hopelessness.
Tina’s eyes flashed. ‘Isn’t that where Princess Madeleine usually hangs out?’
‘Oh yes, Maddie,’ said Calle nonchalantly. ‘She was going out with one of my mates before.’
‘She was?’ said Tina, impressed. For the first time in a month she looked at Calle with some respect.
‘Yeah, but he dumped her. Her mamma and pappa kept butting in too much.’
‘Her mamma and . . . Ohhhh,’ said Tina, and her eyes got even rounder. ‘Cool.’
‘So, what are you going to do?’ Lars asked Tina. She cracked her neck.
‘I’m going out on tour.’
‘On tour?’ Uffe scoffed, reaching for another pastry. ‘You’re going out with Boozer and maybe you’ll sing a song or two and then stand around in the bar. I’d hardly call that a tour.’
‘You know, there are a hell of a lot of clubs that have called to invite me to come and sing “I Want to Be Your Little Bunny”,’ Tina said. ‘Boozer said that a lot of record companies are going to call too.’
‘Sure, and what Boozer says is always true,’ Uffe snorted, rolling his eyes.
‘Shit, it’s going to be great to be rid of you, you’re so negative all the time!’ Tina snapped at Uffe and then demonstratively turned her back on him.
‘What about you, Mehmet?’ Everyone turned to look at Mehmet, who hadn’t said a word since they entered the café.
‘I’m going to stay here,’ he said, waiting defiantly for a reaction. He wasn’t disappointed.
Five pairs of incredulous eyes turned towards him. ‘What? You’re going to stay? Here?’ Calle looked as though Mehmet had been transformed into a frog before his very eyes.
‘Yes, I’m going to keep working at the bakery. I’ll sublet my flat for a while.’
‘And where are you going to live? With
Simon
, or what?’ Tina’s words rang out in the café, and Mehmet’s silence caused a shocked look to spread round the table.
‘You
are
? What’s the deal, are you two an item or what?’
‘No, we are not!’ Mehmet retorted. ‘Not that it’s any of your bloody business. We’re just . . . friends.’
‘Simon and Mehmet, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,’ Uffe sang, laughing so hard he almost fell off his chair.
‘Cut it out, leave Mehmet alone,’ said Jonna almost in a whisper, which oddly enough made the others quiet down. ‘I think that’s a brave decision, Mehmet. You’re better than the rest of us!’
‘What do you mean, Jonna?’ said Lars kindly, cocking his head. ‘In what way is Mehmet better?’
‘He just is,’ said Jonna, pulling down her sleeves. ‘He’s nice. Kind and considerate.’
‘Aren’t you nice?’ Lars asked. The question seemed to contain many layers.
‘No,’ Jonna said quietly. In her mind’s eye she was replaying the scene outside the community centre and the hatred she’d felt towards Barbie. How hurt she’d been by what she’d heard Barbie had said about her, how much she’d wanted to hurt her back. She’d felt true satisfaction the instant she cut Barbie’s skin with the knife. A nice person wouldn’t have done that. But she didn’t mention any of that. Instead she looked out of the window at the traffic passing by. The cameramen had already packed up and gone home. That was what she had to do now too. Go home. To a big empty flat. To notes on the kitchen table telling her not to wait up. To brochures about various training courses that were left purposely out on the coffee table. To the silence.
‘So what are
you
going to do now?’ Uffe asked Lars, with a bit of a sarcastic tone. ‘Now that you won’t have us to pamper?’
‘I’ll find a way to keep busy,’ said Lars, taking a swallow of his sweet tea. ‘I’m going to work on my book, maybe open my own practice. And what about you, Uffe? You haven’t said what you’re going to do.’
With feigned nonchalance Uffe shrugged his shoulders. ‘Oh, nothing special. There’ll probably be a bar tour for a while. I’ll no doubt have to listen to that damn “I Want to Be Your Little Bunny” song till it’s coming out my ears.’ He glared at Tina. ‘Then, well, I don’t know. It’ll work out.’ For a moment the uncertainty was visible behind his tough-guy mask. Then it was gone again, and he laughed. ‘Just check out what I can do!’ He took the coffee spoon and hung it from his nose. Damn if he intended to waste time worrying about the future. Guys that could balance spoons on their nose would always get by.
When they left the café to go out to the bus that was waiting to take them away from Tanum, Jonna stopped for a moment. For an instant she thought she’d seen Barbie sitting among them. With that long blonde hair and those press-on nails that made it nearly impossible for her to do anything. Laughing, with that soft, sweet expression of hers. They’d all regarded it as a sign of weakness, but Jonna now realized that she’d been wrong. It wasn’t just Mehmet. Barbie had also been nice. For the first time she began to think about that Friday when everything had gone so wrong. About who had actually said what. About who’d been spreading those stories that Jonna now thought were lies. About who had pulled their strings like marionettes. Something was stirring in the back of her mind, but before the thought had fully emerged, the bus drove off from Tanumshede. She stared out of the window. The seat next to her was conspicuously empty.
Towards ten in the morning Patrik had begun to regret that he hadn’t forced himself to eat more breakfast. His stomach was growling, so he went to the break room looking for something edible. He was in luck. There was one lone cinnamon bun left in a bag on the table, and he shoved it hungrily into his mouth. Not the best snack, but it would have to do. He had no sooner returned to his office, his mouth full of bun, when the phone rang. He saw that it was Annika and tried to swallow the last bite, but it stuck in his throat. ‘Hello?’ he said with a cough.
‘Patrik?’
He swallowed a couple of times and managed to get the rest of the bun down. ‘Yes, it’s me.’
‘You have a visitor,’ she said, and he could hear from her tone that it was important.
‘Who is it?’
‘Sofie Kaspersen.’
He felt a spark of interest. Marit’s daughter? What could she want?
‘Send her in,’ he said and went out into the hall to wait for Sofie. She looked haggard and pale, and he vaguely recalled that Gösta had said something about her having a stomach flu when they visited her and Ola.
‘I hear you’ve been sick. Are you feeling better now?’ he said as he showed her into his office.
She nodded. ‘Yes, I had a touch of the flu. But it’s better now. I lost a few kilos is all,’ she said with a wry smile.
‘Oh, maybe I should get the flu too,’ he said with a laugh, as a way to lighten the mood. The girl looked shocked at the idea. There was an awkward pause. Patrik waited her out.
‘Have you found out anything more . . . about Mamma?’ she said at last.
‘No, I’m afraid we’ve hit a wall.’
‘So you don’t know what the connection is between her . . . and the others?’
‘No,’ Patrik said again, wondering what she was getting at. He went on cautiously, ‘There’s obviously something we haven’t discovered yet. Something we don’t know . . . about your mother, and the others.’
‘Hmm,’ was all Sofie said.
‘It’s important that we know everything. So that we can find the person who took your mother from you.’ He could hear the entreaty in his voice, but he could see that there was something Sofie wanted to tell him. Something about her mother.
After another long pause her hand gently touched the sleeve of his jacket. With her eyes lowered she took out a sheet of paper and held it out to Patrik. She raised her eyes again when he started to read, studying him intently.
‘Where did you find this?’ Patrik said when he’d finished reading. He felt a tingling sensation in his stomach.
‘In a drawer. In Pappa’s room. But it was with Mamma’s things that she had saved. It was in with a bunch of photos and stuff.’
‘Does your pappa know that you found this?’
Sofie shook her head. Her straight dark hair danced round her face. ‘No, and he won’t be happy about it. But the officers that came by last week said to contact you if we knew anything, and I felt that I should tell you. For Mamma’s sake,’ she added, and went back to studying her cuticles.
‘You did the right thing,’ Patrik said. ‘We needed to have this information, and I do believe you may have given us the key.’ He couldn’t hide his excitement. So much now fitted together. Other pieces of the puzzle were whirling round in his head: Börje’s criminal record, Rasmus’s injuries, Elsa’s guilt – it all made sense.
‘May I take this?’ He waved the paper.
‘Could you make a copy instead?’ Sofie said. ‘Absolutely. And if your pappa makes a fuss, tell him to call me. You did the right thing.’
He made a copy on the machine out in the corridor, gave Sofie back the original, and then escorted her out. He stood watching as she trudged across the street, her head lowered and her hands stuck deep in her pockets. She seemed to be headed over to Kerstin’s. He hoped so. Those two needed each other more than they realized.
With triumph in his eyes he went back inside to set everything in motion. At long last they had their breakthrough!
The past week had been the best in Bertil Mellberg’s life. He could hardly believe this was happening. Rose-Marie had slept over two more times, and even though his nocturnal activities were beginning to leave their mark in the form of dark rings under his eyes, it was worth it. He caught himself walking about and humming, and he even made an occasional jump for joy. But only when no one was looking.
She was fantastic. He couldn’t get over what luck he’d had. It was amazing that this vision of a woman had picked him as her chosen one. No, he just couldn’t understand it. And they had already begun talking about the future. They had shyly agreed that they did have a future together. No doubt about that. Mellberg, who had always had a healthy reluctance to carry on a long-term relationship, now could hardly contain himself.
They had talked a lot about the past too. He had told her about Simon and proudly showed her a picture of his son who had come into his life so late. Rose-Marie had commented on how handsome he was, so like his father; she said that she really looked forward to meeting him. She herself had a daughter up north in Kiruna and one in the States. So far away, both of them, she’d said with sorrow in her voice, and she showed him pictures of her two grandchildren who lived in America. Maybe they could take a trip over there together next summer, Rose-Marie had suggested, and he had nodded eagerly. America – he’d never dreamed of travelling so far. To tell the truth, he’d never even been outside the borders of Sweden before. A brief trip across the bridge to Norway at Svinesund hardly counted as foreign travel. But Rose-Marie was opening a whole new world for him. She had just begun to think about buying a time-share condo in Spain, she told him as she lay in his arms one night. A white stucco house with a balcony, a view over the Mediterranean, its own pool, and bougainvillea climbing up the façade, smelling so wonderful in the warm air. Mellberg could picture it. How he and Rose-Marie would sit on the balcony on a warm summer evening with their arms round each other, sipping their ice-cold drinks. A thought had then occurred to him and refused to let go. In the darkness of the bedroom he had turned his face to hers and solemnly suggested that they buy the apartment together. He waited nervously for her reaction; at first she hadn’t been as enthusiastic as he’d hoped; she seemed a bit uneasy. Then they’d talked about having to get legal documents for everything so that it wouldn’t lead to any arguments about money. That wouldn’t do at all. He had smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. She was so cute when she was worried. But at last they’d agreed to do it.