31
T
hea shouts for Emee as soon as Arne’s car is out of sight. She walks around the little garden surrounding the coach house, but there is no sign of the dog. It’s almost eight o’clock, and Dr Andersson will be here to pick Thea up at any minute.
What if something has happened to Emee? What if she’s found her way out of the forest, run out onto a road, been hit by a car? The thought makes it difficult to breathe.
‘Emee! Emee!’ She blows the dog whistle, but to no avail.
She hears a car approaching and hopes it’s David rather than the doctor, but in fact it’s neither of them. A green Land Rover, one of the older models, pulls up outside the coach house. The sunlight is reflected on the windscreen, and she can’t see the driver until he gets out: a short man aged about fifty, in a scruffy oilskin coat, a flat cap and leather gloves. She recognises him from the night of the storm.
‘Hubert Gordon,’ he says without offering his hand. ‘We’re neighbours.’
Thea notes that he has a slight speech impediment, and seems keen to avoid eye contact.
‘Thea Lind.’
Hubert has already turned his back on her. He goes around the car, opens the boot. Emee jumps out, skips happily around Hubert’s legs then runs to Thea. She is soaking wet, her coat is dirty and full of mud. Thea lets out a long breath.
‘I found her over by the western meadow.’ Hubert points diagonally across the moat. ‘Between the forest and the main road, just by the deer enclosure.’
‘Goodness, she’d gone a long way – I let her off the lead by the bridge.’
‘It might be best if you don’t allow your dog to run loose in the future.’ His tone is brusque, verging on unfriendly. He turns away to get into the car.
‘Thanks for your help,’ Thea says. ‘I really appreciate it. Emee isn’t actually my dog. She belongs to a friend of mine who’s ill . . .’
The words unexpectedly stick in her throat. She coughs, but it comes out like a sob, which is annoying.
Hubert stops, turns back to face her again. His expression softens a little. His eyes are brown, sorrowful. For a few seconds Thea experiences that same mutual understanding she felt on the night of the storm. Hubert seems to feel the same, because although neither of them says anything, the silence between them is not uncomfortable.
The mood is broken by the sound of Dr Andersson’s car approaching.
‘I hope your friend gets better soon,’ Hubert says. He gives her a wry smile of farewell that could be interpreted as friendly.
*
Thea takes Emee indoors, fills up her food and water bowls, then changes out of her muddy boots and trousers. When she gets into the car Dr Andersson glances at the clock, but doesn’t comment on Thea’s lateness.
‘So you’ve met Hubert?’
‘Yes, my dog had run away. He found her over by the deer enclosure.’
‘Oh. As I said, Hubert is a little . . . different. He can seem . . . unfriendly.’
Dr Andersson tries to winkle out more details about their conversation, but Thea has nothing to tell. She sinks down in her seat and tries to gather her thoughts. What the hell has happened over the past few hours? What was Bertil doing out there in the forest all on his own? And why did Ingrid send Arne instead of jumping in the car herself?
Arne had asked her if Bertil had been rambling, and the other day Erik Nyberg had wondered the same thing, but why? It must have something to do with Elita Svart, but what?
You must never tell anyone. Never, never, never . . .
What was it that mustn’t be told?
*
They have a gap in consultations after lunch, and Thea nips over to the Konsum mini-market to buy cigarettes, although obviously she doesn’t share this with Dr Andersson. The morning’s sunshine has given way to a fine drizzle.
When she’s made her purchase she pauses outside the shop, looking towards the church. She suddenly remembers what Little Stefan said: that the Svart family disappeared the day after Elita’s funeral. Is Elita buried here, opposite Thea’s workplace? She crosses the street. The churchyard gate squeaks as she opens it. The air smells of box and wet shingle. She passes a number of tall monuments from the late nineteenth century. Dark metal, chains, gold lettering. Combined with the large building itself and the tall poplars, they create an impression of gloom.
She can hear organ music coming from inside the church. She tries the door; it’s unlocked. After a brief hesitation, she goes inside. The space overwhelms her: the Gothic arches, the tall stained-glass windows, the organ music winding its way around the pillars. Frescoes and statues everywhere: faces, figures, some Biblical, some not. The ceiling is so high that she has to tip back her head to see all the way up.
One of the figures right at the top is a man’s face, covered in leaves and with a gaping mouth. She is so preoccupied with staring at it that she bumps into a table and knocks a pile of hymn books onto the floor.
The music stops immediately and footsteps descend the steps from the lectern.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was anyone here.’
The voice belongs to a woman in her late twenties. She has fair hair tied back in a ponytail, a stud in one nostril, round Harry Potter glasses, dungarees and a fleece top with the emblem of the Swedish Church.
‘I’m the one who should be apologising,’ Thea says, picking up the books. ‘Do you work here?’
The woman nods. ‘I’m a member of the churchyard administrative committee. My husband Simon is the cantor; we moved here two years ago. I sneak in occasionally to play the organ – it’s hard to resist for someone who enjoys music as a hobby. My name is Tanya, by the way.’
‘Thea Lind – I moved here quite recently.’
The woman doesn’t seem to know who she is, which is a welcome change. Her accent suggests that she’s from western Sweden.
Thea’s eyes are drawn to the ceiling once more, to the face up there. Tanya follows her gaze.
‘I see you’ve discovered our Green Man. There are examples in various churches, including Lund Cathedral. I’m sure you’re aware of the local Walpurgis Night tradition? The figure by the front door of the house, and the effigy placed on top of the bonfire?’
‘Yes, I’ve heard about that.’
‘Wait until you see it for real. Where I come from, we make little straw men for 13 January – tjugonde Knut – and put them outside one another’s houses, but the Green Man is more exciting.’ She stops, as if realising that she’s taken over the conversation. ‘Sorry – is there something I can help you with?’
‘Yes, I’m looking for a grave.’
‘Have you checked our homepage? Almost all the graves are listed.’
Thea shakes her head. She feels stupid, walking into the church and expecting someone to know exactly where one grave is among the hundreds out there.
‘I have a pretty good memory, so maybe I can help you anyway. Is it a new or an old grave?’
‘Somewhere in between – 1986.’
‘OK – most graves from the Eighties are over on the eastern side. What’s the name?’
‘Elita Svart.’
Tanya smiles. ‘Aha – number 407. The mystery grave.’
‘Sorry?’
‘That’s what Simon and I call it, but maybe you can solve the mystery. The grave is tended by the church council. A couple of years ago they considered reclaiming it, because there were no relatives, but then an envelope arrived in the post. It contained a bundle of cash and an anonymous typewritten letter saying that the money was for the care of grave 407.’
‘What happened next?’
Tanya shrugs. ‘The members of the church council didn’t quite know what to do, but in the end they decided to go along with the wishes of the letter writer and retain the grave. Simon and I were curious; we did a little research and heard the story of the poor girl who was murdered by her stepbrother. We thought the idea of a secret benefactor was quit
e exciting, so we decided to keep an eye on the grave. We’ve never seen anyone there, but on more than one occasion I’ve found a memorial candle burning by the headstone, so someone must visit.’
*
The headstone is simple, a small black rectangle sunk into the grass.
ELITA SVART 12.02.1970–30.04.1986
LOVED. MISSED.
In front of the stone lies a white rose.
Thea carefully picks up the flower, turning it this way and that as if she were a detective examining a piece of evidence. It is almost fresh, the petals are damp from the drizzle.
Someone must have been here very recently. Someone who still remembers Elita Svart, in spite of the fact that most people seem to want to forget her.
But who?
32
T
hea and Dr Andersson go through a few more things on the computer together, but as the time approaches two o’clock, the doctor begins to finish off.
‘I think that’s all you need to know. Good luck, Thea. I’m sure you’ll be fine,’ she says, with a hint of sorrow in her voice.
‘So you’re done with your working life?’ Thea says.
The other woman sighs. ‘To be perfectly honest, I’d have liked to carry on for another year or so. I’m in good health, I love my job, and I like the idea of doing something important for the village.’ She straightens her spine. ‘But as Ingrid pointed out, it’s time to pass the baton to someone younger. Time for new blood.’
Thea doesn’t know what to say. She’s suspected this ever since the idea of the move was first broached. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that there just happened to be a vacant post as GP in the village; she wondered whether her mother-in-law had used her influence.
Dr Andersson gives a wry smile.
‘So – you’ve got the keys, the telephone and the computer. One last thing – we need to call at Ängsgården on the way home. Erik Nyberg’s blood sugar monitor is playing up. If necessary we’ll have to swap it for ours. And don’t forget you have to go to Lund; your security clearance has to be handed into the regional office this week. You could do that tomorrow, while the surgery’s closed. The practice car is yours now.’
‘OK.’ Thea realises she’s looking forward to being her own boss. And the doctor is right – best to get her clearance out of the way.
*
The drive to Ängsgården takes ten minutes. Once again Dr Andersson makes a big show of pressing the GPS button to register that the car is being used for work, then fills the time with a lengthy anecdote about her holiday plans. Thea is lost in thought, listening with half an ear.
Her mother-in-law clearly has a hand in most aspects of village life. The coach house, the TV interview and the renovation of the castle is one thing, but Thea is far from comfortable with the idea that poor Dr Andersson has been kicked out in order to provide a job for her. She thinks about this morning’s phone call; Ingrid didn’t even sound surprised. Didn’t ask how Bertil was. And why didn’t she come to the lodge to pick him up herself? Why send Arne?
It would be good if we could keep this little incident between us.
*
When they arrive at Ängsgården, Erik, Per and Little Stefan are standing next to an open shed. A dead deer is hanging from a butcher’s hook just inside. The men are absorbed in their conversation, and don’t look up until Thea and Dr Andersson have got out of the car.
‘Bit early for hunting deer,’ the doctor says.
None of the men laugh at her joke.
‘Killed by a predator,’ Per says. ‘We found it this morning in one of the enclosures with its throat ripped out.’
‘Oh dear!’ Dr Andersson immediately becomes serious. ‘What predator is big enough to take a fallow deer?’
Per shrugs. ‘A wolf, or maybe a lynx.’
‘A wolf?’ Thea exclaims. ‘This far south?’
‘It does happen, although it’s rare. A couple of years ago a lone wolf was hit by a car just outside Malmö, and a guy I hunt with who lives up by Vedarp found wolf tracks as recently as last winter.’
‘This is no wolf,’ Erik mutters. ‘More like a big dog.’
Thea freezes. Emee was missing all morning. Where did Hubert say he’d found her? Over by the western meadow, just by the deer enclosure.
‘Which enclosure was it?’ she asks, afraid that she already knows the answer.
Per points in the direction of the castle.
‘The one over by the western meadow. Why do you ask?’
‘No reason – I was just curious.’
Her eyes are drawn to the body. The bloodstains on the cement floor. The gaping hole in its throat.
*
They leave Per with the deer and follow Erik’s car to the house.
‘Does Per live here too?’ Thea asks, mainly in an attempt to shake off thoughts of the dead animal.
‘He does – he and Erik share the house. Per has been in relationships with various ladies, but they never last very long.’
The doctor looks as if she has a lot more to say on that subject, but they’ve already arrived.
‘One of my dogs has had puppies – would you like to see them, Thea?’ Erik asks as Dr Andersson sits down at the table and starts to check his blood sugar monitor.
‘Yes, please!’
Erik opens a door and she follows him along a short corridor to a laundry room. In a basket in one corner there is a spaniel, feeding a heap of puppies.
‘They’re six weeks old,’ he says. ‘All reserved except for one.’
He raises one eyebrow above the rim of his dark glasses. Thea laughs.
‘Thanks, but I’ve got my hands full with the dog I already have.’
The image of the dead deer comes into her mind again; her smile stiffens.
‘I thought I’d ask. By the way, I heard that Bertil was wandering around in the forest this morning. Is he OK?’
‘He’s as well as can be expected.’
‘Good to know. What was he doing out there?’
Thea doesn’t answer right away. Her first instinct is to brush him off, but this is the second time he’s asked about Bertil. Maybe this is her chance to find out what lies behind his interest.
‘I’m not sure. He was rambling about the girl who died in the stone circle – Elita Svart.’
One of Erik’s nostril’s twitches.
‘Oh? What did he say?’
Thea decides to go for a counter-question.
‘Did you know her?’
Erik purses his lips. ‘No, but her father leased the farm from the count, so it was my job to make sure that Lasse behaved himself and . . .’ Erik breaks off. ‘So what did Bertil say about Elita?’
Thea comes back at him with another question.
‘What happened to the Svart family?’
Erik shrugs. ‘God knows. When Little Stefan got there the morning after Elita’s funeral, they were gone – all three of them. No one ever heard from them again.’ He pauses, raises both eyebrows this time. ‘What did Bertil say?’
Thea wonders whether she ought to keep Bertil’s words to herself; on the other hand, she has to give Erik something if she wants more answers.
‘He said “poor girl”.’
‘Poor girl. Was that all?’
‘Mm.’
Erik holds her gaze for a few seconds.
‘Why did you board up Svartgården and destroy the track?’ she asks.
He scratches the tip of his nose. Seems to be giving his response careful consideration.
‘The count told me to do it.’
‘And you didn’t think it was strange? What if the family came back? What if they’d just gone off to do something?’
She’s been thinking about this ever since she spoke to Little Stefan.
Erik spreads his arms wide.
‘I worked for Rudolf Gordon for over thirty years. We respected each other, respected the importance of discretion. It was the count’s farm, his land, and what
he wanted done with the place was his business. Plus Lasse had already been given notice to quit.’ Erik moves a step closer. ‘Is that really all Bertil said?’
‘He just kept repeating “poor girl, poor girl”. Nothing else.’
Erik is about to say something when the doctor calls them. They head back to the kitchen.
‘I believe the land was sold to the army?’ Thea says.
Erik nods.
‘Did they demolish the farm?’
Erik stops with his hand on the doorknob. ‘Why do you want to know that?’
‘Why do you want to know what Bertil said?’
She can feel his eyes through the dark glasses; she is determined not to look away. ‘Did they demolish the farm?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
He opens the kitchen door.
‘There you are!’ Dr Andersson says cheerfully. ‘I’ve fixed the monitor; it just needed new batteries. Didn’t you try that yourself, Erik?’
He shrugs apologetically. ‘I did, but I must have had some spent batteries in the drawer. It’s not easy, getting old and absent-minded.’
Thea is watching him closely. There are two things she’s absolutely certain of when it comes to Erik Nyberg.
One: he’s anything but absent-minded.
Two: there’s something he’s not telling her about Svartgården.
*
She drops Sigbritt Andersson at her 1970s house. Once again the doctor wishes her well, draws out the leave-taking for as long as possible, but at last Thea manages to escape. The practice car is hers now, and she loves the freedom of being able to go wherever she wants, whenever she wants.
David’s car is outside the east wing when she drives past, and back at the coach house Emee is delighted to see her, behaving just as she normally does. Thea checks her grey coat carefully, searching for any trace of blood around her mouth. Nothing, which makes her feel a little less worried. She puts Emee on the lead and walks over to the castle.
David is on the phone outside the kitchen door, but ends the call as soon as he sees her.
‘Hi, darling, everything OK?’ He kisses her cheek. ‘I’ve just been talking to my new sous chef – he starts on Monday. And everything’s ready for the welcome dinner on Saturday for Nettan and Sebastian.’
Rites of Spring Page 13