The Ice Princess

by Camilla Lackberg

  If she was forced to go along with selling the house, was there any possibility that she would stay here? She didn’t want to move in with Patrik before their relationship had been properly tested over a period of time. So the only alternative was to find some other place to live in Fjällbacka.

  The problem was that nowhere else appealed to her. If they sold the house she would rather cut all ties to Fjällbacka than come here and watch strangers tramping about in her childhood home. Nor could she really imagine renting a flat here; that would feel very strange. She felt her happiness slipping away as she piled all these negative thoughts on top of each other. Of course, it would be possible to solve this dilemma, but she had to admit that even if she wasn’t exactly ancient, so many years of living alone with only herself to think of had taken their toll, and she didn’t feel very flexible anymore. After much deliberation she had decided that she was ready to leave her life in Stockholm, but only if she could keep living in the familiar setting of her childhood home. Otherwise, it would simply be too much change in her universe all at once. She wouldn’t be able to face it, no matter how much in love she was.

  Perhaps her parents’ death had also made her less inclined to make big changes. That change was enough for many years to come. Right now, she wanted to sink into a safe, secure and predictable life. Previously, she had been afraid to commit herself to a relationship. Now she wanted nothing more than to include Patrik in that secure and predictable life. She wanted to be able to plan for all the usual stages: living together, engagement, marriage, children, and then many ordinary days, one after another, until one day they could look at each other and discover that they had grown old together. That shouldn’t be too much to ask.

  For the first time Erica felt a pang of sorrow at the thought of Alex. It was as if she only now grasped that Alex’s life was irrevocably over. Even though their paths had not crossed for many years, she had still thought of her from time to time. And she had always known that Alex’s life was running parallel to her own. Now she was the only one who had a future, who would get to experience all the sorrows and joys that the years ahead would bring. Every time she thought about Alex now, and for the rest of her life, the image that would appear to her would be that of Alex’s pale corpse in the bathtub. The blood on the tiles and her hair that looked like a frozen halo. Maybe that was why she had decided to start writing the book about her. It was a way to relive the years when they were so close to each other, and at the same time get to know the woman Alex had become after they parted ways.

  What had worried Erica the past few days was that the material felt a little too flat. It was as if she were looking at a three-dimensional model from only one side. The other sides were equally important if she was going to get an idea of how the figure looked, but she hadn’t yet been allowed to see them. What she decided was that she needed to start looking more at the people around Alex, not only the main actors, but all the bit players who had been part of her life. Then Erica’s thoughts had gravitated primarily to what she had sensed and intuited as a child but had never clearly understood.

  Something had happened the year before Alex moved away, and nobody had ever bothered to tell Erica what it was. The whispering had always stopped as soon as she came near; she had been shielded from something that she now desperately needed to understand. The problem was that she didn’t know where to start. The only thing she remembered from her attempts to eavesdrop on conversations that were conducted in whispers by the adults, was that she heard the word ‘school’ mentioned more than once. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was all she had. Erica knew that the teacher she and Alex had had in middle school was still living in Fjällbacka. That was probably as good a place to start as any.

  The wind had picked up and despite her thick layers of clothing the cold began to creep in. Erica felt that it was time to start moving. She glanced one last time at Fjällbacka nestled in its protected position with the mountain towering behind. In the summer it was usually bathed in golden light, but now it was grey and bare; yet Erica thought it was even lovelier like this. In the summertime the area was more reminiscent of an anthill with its constant activity. Now a quiet peace had settled over the little town, and she could almost imagine it hibernating. At the same time she knew that the peace was illusory. Under the surface there was just as much evil as anywhere else inhabited by human beings. Erica had seen a good deal of that in Stockholm, but she believed that it was even more sinister here. Hatred, envy, greed and revenge, all of it concealed underneath a huge lid that was created by sentiments such as: ‘what would people say?’ All the evil, pettiness and malice was quietly allowed to ferment beneath a surface that always had to look so neat and clean. Now that Erica was standing on the rocks of Badholmen and looking back at the snow-covered little town, she wondered in silence what secrets it was guarding.

  She gave a shiver, stuck her hands deep in her pockets and headed back towards town.

  Life had become more and more threatening with each year that passed. Axel Wennerström was always discovering new dangers. It had started when he became acutely aware of all the billions and trillions of bacilli and bacteria swirling around him. Having to touch anything became a challenge; if he was forced to do so, he saw armies of bacteria rushing over him, threatening to bring along a myriad of known and unknown diseases that would surely cause him a long and painful death. Then his very surroundings became a threat. Big surfaces presented certain dangers, small surfaces presented others. Ending up in a crowd of people made sweat seep from all the pores on his body, and his breathing would get fast and shallow. The only environment Axel could even partially control was his own home. He quickly realized that he could actually live his life without ever having to set foot outside his door again.

  The last time Axel went outside was eight years ago. He had so effectively repressed all possible desire to venture out that he no longer knew whether the rest of the world was there or not. He was content with his life and saw no reason to change a thing.

  Axel Wennerström spent his days following a routine that was well practised by now. Each day followed the same schedule, and today was no different. He got up at seven o’clock and ate breakfast. Then he cleaned the whole kitchen with strong cleaning solutions in order to eradicate any possible bacteria that the food he’d eaten for breakfast might have spread after it was taken out of the refrigerator. He spent the next few hours dusting, wiping off and putting in order the rest of the house. Not until one o’clock could he grant himself a break and sit down with his newspaper on the veranda. According to a special arrangement with Signe, the letter-carrier, he got his newspaper in a plastic bag each morning. That allowed him to repress at least partially the image of all the filthy human hands that had handled the paper before it landed in his letter-box.

  A knock on the door made his adrenaline skyrocket. Nobody was supposed to come at this time of day. The person who delivered his food normally came early on Friday mornings. That was the only visitor he usually had. Laboriously, Axel made his way inch by inch towards the door. The knocks came again, insistently. He reached out a shaky hand towards the top lock and unfastened it. He wished he had a peephole, the kind usually found in the doors of more modern flats, but in his old building there wasn’t even a window in the door through which he could view the intruder. He also unlocked the bottom bolt and with a pounding heart he opened the door. He had to check a desire to close his eyes to shut out whatever appalling, nameless creature awaited him out there.

  ‘Axel? Axel Wennerström?’

  He relaxed. Women were less threatening than men. For safety’s sake he kept the security chain on.

  ‘Yes, what is it?’

  He tried to sound as discouraging as possible. He just wanted this person, whoever she was, to go away and leave him in peace.

  ‘Hello, Axel. I don’t know if you remember me, but I was in your class at school. Erica Falck?’

  He searched his memory. That was so m
any years ago, and there had been so many pupils. Faintly, the image of a little blonde girl began to appear. That was it, Tore’s girl.

  ‘I wonder whether I could have a word with you.’

  She gave him an urgent look through the crack in the door. Axel sighed deeply, unhooked the door chain and let her in. He tried not to think of how many unknown organisms she was bringing with her into his clean home. He pointed to a shoe rack to indicate that she should take off her shoes. She obeyed politely and also hung up her coat and scarf. To avoid getting her dirt in the rest of the house he showed her to the wicker furniture on the veranda. She sat down on the sofa, and he made a mental note to wash the cushions as soon as she left.

  ‘It’s certainly been a long time.’

  ‘Yes, it must be twenty-five years since you were in my class, if I’m figuring correctly.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. The years go by so fast.’

  Axel found small talk frustrating, but reluctantly resigned himself to it. He wished that she would get to the point and tell him why she came here. Then she would leave and he could have his home to himself again. For the life of him he couldn’t comprehend what she wanted from him. Old pupils had come and gone by the hundreds over the years; until now, he had been spared actually seeing any of them in person. But now Erica Falck was sitting here before him. He felt on pins and needles as he sat on the wicker armchair facing her. He was so eager to get rid of her. His eyes kept looking at the cushion underneath her, and he could literally see all the bacteria she had brought in creeping and crawling and spreading down from the sofa across the floor. It probably wouldn’t be enough to wash the cushion; he would have to clean and disinfect the entire house after she left.

  ‘You’re probably wondering why I’m here.’

  He merely nodded in reply.

  ‘You must have heard that Alexandra Wijkner was murdered.’

  He had heard about it, and it had stirred up things that he had spent a good part of his life trying to repress. Now he wished even more that Erica Falck would get up and walk out the door. But she was still sitting there, and he had to fight a childish impulse to put his hands over his ears and hum loudly to shut out all the words he knew were going to come.

  ‘I have my own reasons for investigating a number of things associated with Alex and her death, and I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.’

  Axel closed his eyes. He had known that this day would come eventually.

  ‘All right. That will be fine.’

  He didn’t want to ask what her reasons were for asking about Alex. She could keep them to herself, if she wanted to; he wasn’t interested. She could ask her questions, but there was nothing forcing him to answer them. At the same time he felt to his astonishment a strong urge to tell everything to the blonde woman sitting across from him. To unload onto someone, anyone, everything he had been holding on to for twenty-five years. It had poisoned his life. It had grown like seeds deep inside his conscience and then slowly spread like a poison through his body and his mind. In his more lucid moments, he knew that this was at the root of his mania for cleanliness and his increasing terror of anything that might endanger the control he had over his surroundings. Erica Falck could ask what she liked, but he would do his utmost to check every impulse to answer. He knew that if he started to lose his grip, dams would burst and threaten to eradicate the shield he had so carefully constructed. That must not happen.

  ‘Do you remember Alexandra from school?’

  He smiled bitterly to himself. Most of the children he’d had in school had only left behind faint, shadowy memories, but Alexandra was just as distinct to him today as she was twenty-five years ago. Although he could hardly say that out loud.

  ‘Yes, I remember Alexandra. Although as Alexandra Carlgren, not Wijkner, of course.’

  ‘Yes, that’s obvious. What do you remember of her in school?’

  ‘She was quiet, a little withdrawn, acted much older than her age.’

  He saw that Erica was frustrated at his curt reply, but he was making a conscious attempt to say as little as possible, as if the words might take over and begin to flow on their own if he let out too many of them.

  ‘Was she good in school?’

  ‘Well, not especially. She wasn’t one of the most ambitious pupils I can recall, but she was intelligent in a quiet way. She was probably about in the middle of the class.’

  Erica hesitated a moment and Axel realized that now they were approaching the questions that she really wanted to ask. The questions up till now had just been warm-ups for her.

  ‘But her family moved away in the middle of the term. Do you recall what reasons Alex’s parents gave for moving?’

  He pretended to ponder the question, putting his fingertips together and resting his chin on them in a feigned gesture of trying to remember. He saw that Erica moved forward a little on the sofa, showing her eagerness to hear the answer to her question. He was going to have to disappoint her. The only thing he could tell her was the truth.

  ‘Yes, I think her father got a job in another town. To be honest I don’t remember exactly, but I vaguely recall it was something like that.’

  Erica couldn’t hide her disappointment. Once again, Axel felt the urge to rip open his chest and reveal what had been hiding there for all these years. To clear his conscience by pouring out the entire naked truth. But he took a deep breath and pushed back what was threatening to spill out.

  Erica continued stubbornly. ‘But the decision came a bit suddenly, from what I understood. Had you heard anything about it earlier, had Alex made any mention that they were going to move?’

  ‘Well, I don’t think it was so strange. Of course it did come up rather suddenly, as you say, if I remember correctly. But these things can happen quickly. Perhaps her father received an offer with short notice, how do I know?’

  He threw out his arms in a gesture that said Erica’s guess was as good as his, and the frown between her eyebrows deepened. This wasn’t the answer she wanted. But she would have to make do with it.

  ‘Yes, but later there was something else,’ Erica went on. ‘I recall vaguely from those days that people were talking about something in connection with Alex. I also remember that I heard the grown-ups mention something about the school. Do you know what that might have been? I only have vague memories, as I said, but it was something that was hushed up in front of us children.’

  Axel felt all the joints in his body turn rigid. He hoped that his consternation was not as obvious as it felt. Of course he knew that there must have been rumours, there always were. It was impossible to keep anything secret, yet he believed that the damage had been limited. He had even helped to limit it; that was part of what was still eating at him from inside. Erica was waiting for a reply.

  ‘No, I can’t think of what that might have been. But there’s always so much talk, you know how people are. There isn’t any substance to most rumours. I wouldn’t attach any importance to it if I were you.’

  Disappointment was written all over her face. She hadn’t found out anything of what she had come here for, he understood that much. But he had no choice. It was like a pressure-cooker. If he opened the lid just a crack, the whole thing would explode. At the same time, something was still insisting on getting out. He felt as if someone had taken over his body. He felt his mouth open and his tongue start to shape the words, words that should not be spoken. To his relief Erica stood up and the moment passed. She put on her coat and boots and held out her hand. He looked at her hand and swallowed a couple of times before he took it. He had to check an impulse to grimace. Contact with another person’s skin disgusted him beyond all description. She finally walked out the door, but turned just as he was about to close it.

  ‘Oh, by the way, did Nils Lorentz have any connection with Alex, or with the school for that matter, that you know of?’

  Axel hesitated but then made a decision. She would find out about it sooner or later, if
not from him then from someone else.

  ‘Don’t you remember? He was a substitute teacher at the middle school for one term.’

  Then Axel shut the door, locked the double lock, put on the chain, leaned his back against the door and closed his eyes.

  He quickly got out the cleaning supplies and wiped away all traces of the unwelcome visitor. Only then did his world feel safe again.

  The evening was off to a bad start. Lucas was in a foul mood when he came home, and she kept trying to stay a step ahead so as not to give him any additional reason to be annoyed. Anna knew that in this situation, when he came home in a bad mood, he would search for any excuse to vent his rage.

  She took extra care preparing dinner. She made his favourite dish and laid the table so it looked perfect. She had to keep the kids away by putting The Lion King on the video in Emma’s room and feeding Adrian from the bottle so he’d go to sleep. She put on Lucas’s favourite CD, Chet Baker, and finally she dressed up a bit and put more effort into fixing her hair and make-up. But she soon realized that tonight it wouldn’t matter what she did. Lucas had clearly had a really bad day at work, and the rage that was building up inside him had to come out. Anna saw the flash in his eye; it was like walking about waiting for a bomb to go off.

  The first blow came with no warning. A slap from the right that made her head ring. She held her cheek and looked up at Lucas as if she still hoped that something inside him would relent at the sight of the marks he had left on her. Instead, it aroused a desire in him to do her even more harm. It had taken her the longest time to understand and accept that he actually enjoyed hurting her. For many years she had believed his assurances that hitting her hurt him as much as it did her, but no longer. She had seen the monster in him before; by now it was quite familiar.

  She curled up instinctively to protect herself from the blows she knew would come. When they began raining down on her she tried to focus on a point inside herself, a place that Lucas couldn’t reach. It was something she had got better and better at doing. Even though she was aware of the pain, she could distance herself from it most of the time. It was as if she were floating on the ceiling and looking down on herself as she lay curled up on the floor while Lucas vented his wrath on her.