by Mikaela Bley
‘Do you know something, or what?’ Agatha asked.
‘Yes. I’m down here, and I’ve got a bit to go on. If you send a photographer down, I can cover the case from here.’
‘I don’t know, Ellen. You’ll have to check that with Jimmy.’
That was the last thing she was going to do.
‘I have to hang up now,’ said Agatha, leaving Ellen with an uneasy feeling in her body.
Again, the teenage girls caught her attention with their outcries and laughter. They were talking louder and louder.
‘I can’t believe you did that. You could’ve died.’
‘Look how close you are!’
‘I dare you!’ they said in chorus, high-fiving each other.
Ellen saw the librarian send an irritated look in their direction and didn’t understand why he didn’t shush them. Didn’t he dare? Or was it just easier not to?
The girls kept on. ‘That’s so sick. You have to post it. Everyone has to do it, otherwise …’ They laughed and all talked at the same time.
‘Post the other video now, before we have to leave.’
‘Hey! Are you chickening out, or what? It’s a joke. Send — now! She deserves it.’
Ellen started to understand what they were up to and went over to them.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Nothing. Who are you?’ the girl with panda make-up and pink hair asked.
The dark-haired girl who was sitting in front of the screen turned around and stared at Ellen.
‘What’s your name?’ Ellen asked, realising in the same moment that it was the girl she’d almost run into up in Östra Villastaden.
‘Would you please chill out.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘Why are you so arrogant?’ Ellen didn’t get it.
‘Bea, tell her your name then!’ said the girl with pink hair.
‘Amen. Oh, you just said her name.’ They laughed. Everyone except Bea.
‘I’m sorry I almost ran into you earlier. Are you okay?’ Ellen held out her hand to greet her properly.
Bea stared at the hand, and Ellen didn’t really know how she should handle the situation to regain some form of respect from the girls. When she’d been that age, she never would have dared to treat an adult like this, but she couldn’t actually decide if that was good or bad. She was starting to understand why the librarian had held back. Just as she was about to take her hand back, Bea spat on it.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Ellen yelled, feeling a strong instinct to give the girl a slap.
‘It’s not okay to snoop around.’ Bea shrugged before turning back to the screen.
‘I’m not snooping, but it sounded like you were up to some nasty stuff.’ She discreetly wiped her hand on her top.
‘I recognise you. Aren’t you a blogger or something?’ one of the girls asked.
‘No, I work as a reporter at TV4. I hope you aren’t being cruel to each other on the internet. Are you thinking about the fact that someone is sitting on the other end now and probably feeling terribly sad?’
‘Get lost. Did we ask for your opinion?’
‘No, but if you don’t stop now, I’m going to report you.’ Ellen got out her phone and took a picture of them.
What pigs, she thought as she left.
ELLEN
9.30 P.M.
Margareta was sitting at the kitchen table with the day’s newspaper open in front of her when Ellen came home.
‘How did it go today?’ she asked without looking up. ‘Terrible about this murder.’ She pointed at the story in the paper. ‘So close by. You’ve been gone a long time.’
‘Yeah, it turned out that way …’
After the visit to the library Ellen had driven aimlessly around Nyköping on a kind of memory tour. She passed house after house where her old friends had lived when they were little. Everything was the same, but now there was a new generation growing up. Everyone that Ellen knew had moved away long ago, and she hadn’t had contact with any of them except on Facebook. Most were married and had children. For her part, it felt as though she was still unpacking her bag from the school trip in ninth grade. She drove past the places where they’d hung out. Västra Storgatan and Teaterparken. She tried to remember things, but only unimportant details showed up in her head. She’d managed to write down a few key words on the pad she’d gotten from Dr Hiralgo, but probably nothing that meant anything. It was hard to write — she felt like she didn’t have the energy, didn’t know what she should focus on.
Stop repressing and putting a lid on everything. Dr Hiralgo’s words echoed in her head. But it felt laboured and forced. The only things she could dredge up from her memory were the names of her friends’ dogs and where their parents worked, home phone numbers of old classmates and their birthdays. She hardly knew when Jimmy’s birthday was, but she still recalled everything about the guy she’d had a crush on in middle school. The brain was peculiar. She tried to remember things from when Elsa was alive and the day she disappeared but didn’t even know where she should start. All routes felt tough and inaccessible, and she didn’t really want to set out on any of them.
‘I’m going to bed,’ said Margareta. ‘I think there’s a thunderstorm brewing. I have a headache and I have to get up early tomorrow — it’s that gardening course in Vreta I told you about.’
‘Okay.’ Ellen nodded, but couldn’t remember that they’d talked about it. ‘You truly have become one with nature,’ she said, pouring a glass of ice-cold water for herself and drinking it slowly.
Margareta smiled. ‘You express yourself like a teenager.’ She spoke quietly and quickly, as if it made her head hurt when sounds came out of her mouth. She got up from the chair by holding onto the back support.
She looks so old, thought Ellen, and suddenly it became so real that her mother wouldn’t always be there.
Margareta went over and patted Ellen on the cheek. ‘Good night, dear,’ she said, walking to the door.
‘Mum!’ Ellen called after her. ‘What did we have for dinner the day that Elsa disappeared?’
Margareta turned around and looked at Ellen dejectedly. ‘I don’t remember, we weren’t home that evening.’
‘But you must have given us something to eat before you left for the party?’
‘Yes, we must have. But I don’t remember. Why are you asking that?’
Ellen shrugged. ‘Dr Hiralgo just asked me to think about a few little things.’
‘That’s good …’ Margareta took a long look at her before she braced herself again. ‘I remember that you were angry — angry as a hornet — but you often were, Ellen. It was actually hard for all of us when you had those outbursts. It’s good that you’re thinking and reflecting.’ She nodded several times. ‘Good night, my dear. I hope we put an end to all this soon. Even if it’s going to cause pain for all of us.’
‘Good night,’ said Ellen, feeling the past fill every corner in the big house. It was easier to focus on telephone numbers and birthdays.
Then the first rumbling came.
Ellen liked thunder; she always had. Thunder was angrier than she was. It was lovely. She could rest in that fury. At Örelo the electrical discharges were usually greater than in other places. It was as if the thunder reached its peak over the island.
She went down into the wine cellar and searched for a long time among the bottles, finally picking the bottle with the ugliest label. On her way up, she called Philip. ‘I miss you,’ she said when he answered.
‘I miss you, too. How’s it going?’
‘It’s so cramped here.’
‘Ah yes, when I think Örelo, I think teeny-tiny.’ He laughed.
‘You know what I mean. Whatever I do, she’s there and asking where I’m going, what I’ll be doing, where I’ve been, and then she spikes the whole thing with some
mean little comment, reminding me of how awful I was when I was little and how I still am. It’s too much. I get heartburn.’
‘Does it matter? Try to forget about it, even though obviously that’s easier said than done.’
‘It’s too much. She doesn’t want me here. It’s as if I disturb her entire existence and remind her of …’ She fell silent.
‘You’re going to manage fine, and to be quite honest, I think it’ll be good for you and Margareta, even if it doesn’t feel that way now. So, tell me about this Dr Hiralgo.’
‘He’s strange, or I don’t know, maybe strange isn’t the right word. You’d probably love him. He wants me to go through everything, take the whole thing from the beginning and then process it.’
‘Oh, I want to hear literally everything, but I have to go into make-up now, I’ll have to call you later.’
‘I think I’m afraid of remembering, Philip.’
‘Don’t be. What can happen? It’s like being afraid of ghosts. They can’t do anything to you. I think the guy is right. Processing the past is the only way to move on. Ellen, I love you, but I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you are a ticking little time bomb, and if you don’t deal with this now, you’re going to blow up something or someone, and you ought to be more afraid of that. In any case, that’s what I’m afraid of.’
They hung up, and a flash of lightning lit up the kitchen, closely followed by thunder.
Ellen closed the window. The rain hadn’t come yet, and because it was already dark out, it was hard to see how heavy the clouds were.
She lit a candle at the kitchen table and took out the bottle opener and an ordinary drinking glass. She didn’t have the energy to go into the dining room to get a crystal glass, and Mum would surely make a big fuss if she used one of them.
The time between the lightning flashes and the bang that followed got shorter. The thunderstorm was getting closer and closer.
One, two, three …
She was startled. Was someone knocking on the door?
The knock came again.
Who could it be? At this time of day?
More knocking.
Ellen checked the time and walked slowly to the door. First turned on the outside light, then unhooked the security chain, and then took a deep breath before she carefully opened the big oak door.
ELLEN
10.10 P.M.
‘Oh, hi,’ Ellen said with surprise.
‘Hi, I heard you were here, so I came as soon as I could. Can I come in before it starts raining?’
It was Didrik from the neighbouring farm standing there grinning, with a little red bowtie around his neck. He held up a bottle of wine, and in his other hand was a basket. ‘I brought some charkisar with me, as they say in Stockholm. Everything’s from the farm.’
It was several years since they’d seen each other, but he sounded just as conceited now as then. Margareta had told her that he’d taken over his parents’ farm and did organic farming on the other side of the lake. Didrik’s mother had never liked Ellen, because she was a journalist and ‘broken’. And awful. But that seemed to excite Didrik. Mama’s little boy had just turned forty, and perhaps he’d finally cut the umbilical cord.
‘Is that for me?’ Ellen asked with sincere surprise as he handed over the basket.
‘Yes, or otherwise I thought maybe we could enjoy it together.’
Enjoy is the word, Ellen thought, smiling cautiously.
Didrik was actually friends with Ellen’s older brother, but he’d always been fond of Ellen and had made countless attempts to get together with her, everything from sending Do I have a chance? notes in primary school to serious dating suggestions with weekends in Paris and all that he now offered her. Ellen had really tried to be interested in him for a while many years ago, but there was something that never really clicked with Didrik. It was as if he came from a different generation, a little unworldly but still up to date.
Ellen’s mother had said once that they ought to be a couple, that it would be just as well. Ellen never fully understood what she’d meant by that: Margareta probably believed that she couldn’t get anyone better, even though Margareta also had a hard time with Didrik and his mother. Ellen thought perhaps it was because of something that had happened long ago, perhaps a family feud between the farms that was handed down.
‘Come in,’ she said. He never gave up, Didrik. She’d give him credit for that, anyway.
He kissed her first on one cheek, and then he lingered a little too long on the other. He smelt like a man: freshly showered, with a little too much aftershave.
‘Where is Dame Margareta?’
Ellen laughed. ‘The dame is sleeping.’ It sounded so silly. He could just as well have had little jester’s bells on his shoes. ‘Are you driving?’
‘Yes, but that isn’t a problem, as long as you don’t talk about it on TV. Estate owner drives drunk. You can picture the headlines.’
Ellen let him believe that it had some news value, didn’t want to crush his ego.
‘You don’t have any police on the island, do you? They’re the worst to rent property to, they have to report if they see anything. It gets to be a tricky situation for everyone concerned,’ he said, as if he was some kind of gangster.
‘Sure, if you participate in illegal activities.’
‘Well, we all do more or less, it’s impossible to get by otherwise. Who hasn’t done something they shouldn’t have?’
She didn’t want to dig deeper into that and so didn’t say anything.
‘You look great.’ He patted her carefully on her side.
‘Thanks.’
Ellen put the basket on the table and Didrik took out the contents. ‘I brought along red, white, and Champagne, I didn’t know what the lady would want.’
‘Red will be great,’ she said. ‘I’ve already opened a bottle.’ She gave him a drinking glass. ‘I’m not allowed to use the crystal, Mum doesn’t trust me.’
He nodded but looked a little frightened. ‘Uh, thirsty?’
Ellen had already knocked back the whole glass. She refilled and looked in wonder at the delicacies that Didrik was lining up on the table.
‘Did you bring a tablecloth with you?’ She couldn’t hold back the laughter.
‘Yes, I thought …’
‘No, sorry, this is really nice.’ She was genuinely trying to stop laughing, but it wasn’t possible.
She wasn’t really hungry, but forced down a piece of truffle salami, wild boar sausage, some creamy sheep cheese, which was actually pretty marvellous, and farm-grown radishes as well.
When they’d finished the first bottle, they opened one of the wines that Didrik had brought with him.
They talked about the farm, about his mother, who had finally moved out into the wing, and how he would start to live his life now. About Ellen’s brother and how they were in touch less and less often.
‘Shall we go into the library?’ She stood up, feeling the intoxication.
Didrik followed her like a faithful little dog.
They settled down on the Chesterfield sofa, but ended up a bit too close to each other. Ellen discreetly tried to inch away.
Didrik crossed his legs and looked around. ‘Well, here we are now, finally together in the library at Örelo.’
He truly sounded like a little old man.
‘Speaking of the library, I was at Culturum today. Not much has changed there since we were at school. It looked just the same as it did.’ She took a sip from her glass.
‘Just as quiet?’ He smiled.
Ellen emptied the glass and started to laugh. ‘Can I tell you a funny story?’
‘Please,’ said Didrik.
She heard how uninterested he sounded, but then, he had no idea how funny it was, and who didn’t appreciate a funny story? ‘Ok
ay, a blonde came into a library and asked the woman behind the information counter.’ Ellen was already laughing so that tears were running down her face and was surprised by all the emotions that were whirling around inside her. If it wasn’t anxiety, then it was laughter, and she had no control over either of them.
‘Okay, do I get to hear the funny part, too?’
She continued but had a hard time getting the words out through all the laughter. ‘Okay, this is what the blonde says: “Can I order a hamburger with French fries?” The woman at the counter answers: “But dear, this is a library.” “Oh, sorry,” the blonde says, and leans forward and whispers: “Can I order a hamburger with French fries?”’
Now Didrik was laughing, too. ‘That was the absolute worst joke I’ve ever heard, but your feeling …’ He laughed so that he choked. ‘Do that again, whisper like that.’
They laughed loudly and brushed against each other.
Should she kiss him? It must be the wine, she thought, surprised at even having that thought. Maybe just once. But she didn’t want to hurt him or give him any false hopes. It would never be them. Never.
He refilled her glass.
She emptied it.
Although, he was a grown man who could take responsibility for himself. They could just have a little sex, right?
It was as if he could read her thoughts. He pushed her hair behind her ear and looked at her seriously. ‘How are you doing, really? Mama says you’ve had a tough summer, with your mental state and everything?’
Bang, and the bubble was burst. Didrik had just killed the desire that had been pulsing through Ellen’s body. How did he know that? The rumour must have spread quickly across the lake, and the circles on the water got bigger and bigger. Ellen had no desire whatsoever to comment on her mental health and add to the rumours in the village. Didn’t people have anything more sensible to worry about? She suddenly felt uncomfortable, and the quantity of wine she’d drunk made itself known.
The phone rang and frightened her. ‘I’d better answer,’ she said firmly, and saw her chance to get out of the situation. Staggered as she stood up to go to the hall. She had to stop drinking. After digging around in her bag for her mobile phone, she finally got it out. It felt as if she was dreaming. She stared at the display trying to confirm that it was really true. Jimmy.