They went ashore in a little protected cove and spread out their towels on the bare, flat rock. This is what she had missed when she lived in Stockholm. The archipelago there was so different, with all its woods and underbrush. In some way it had always felt jumbled and intrusive. A flooded garden, as West Coasters contemptuously called it. The islands were so pure in their bare simplicity. The pink and grey granite reflected the crystalline water against the heartrending loveliness of a cloudless sky. Tiny flowers growing in the rock crevices were the only vegetation, and in this barren setting their beauty could be fully appreciated. Erica closed her eyes and felt herself slip away into pleasant slumber to the sound of the lapping water and the boat lightly tapping against its mooring.
When Patrik gently woke her she didn’t quite know at first where she was. The sharp sunlight blinded her for a few seconds when she opened her eyes, and Patrik was just a dark shadow looming over her. When she got her bearings she realized that she had slept for almost two hours. Now she was ravenous to eat the snack they had brought along.
They poured coffee from the thermos into big mugs and ate the cinnamon buns. Nowhere did food taste so good as out on an island, and they enjoyed it to the fullest. But Erica couldn’t help taking up the forbidden topic of discussion again.
‘How’s it going for you guys, anyway?’
‘So-so. One step forwards and two steps back.’ Patrik’s reply was curt. It was obvious that he didn’t want the evil that regularly insinuated its way into his work to invade this sun- drenched peacefulness.
But Erica’s curiosity was too great, and she couldn’t help trying to find out a little more. ‘Were those articles I found of any use? Do you think the whole thing is about the Hult family? Or was Johannes just unlucky to be drawn into it?’
Patrik sighed as he sat with the coffee mug in his hands.
‘If only I knew. The whole Hult family feels like a darned hornets’ nest, and I would really prefer not to root around in their affairs. But there’s something that doesn’t seem quite right. Whether it has to do with the murders or not, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the thought that the police may have contributed to an innocent person committing suicide that makes me hope there was some basis for our suspicions. After all, Gabriel’s testimony was the only sensible lead the police had when the girls went missing. But we can’t focus on that alone; we have to do a broad search.’ He paused for a few seconds and then went on. ‘I’d really prefer not to talk about this. Right now it feels as though I need to disconnect from everything that has to do with murder and think about something else.’
She nodded. ‘I promise not to ask any more questions. Another bun?’
He didn’t say no, and after a couple of hours of reading and sunning themselves on the island, they saw by the clock that they should be getting home to prepare for the arrival of their guests. At the last minute they had decided to invite Patrik’s father and his wife as well, so besides the children there were eight adults who would have to be fed from the grill.
Gabriel always grew restless on the weekend when he was expected to relax and not work. The problem was that he didn’t know what to do when he wasn’t working. Work was his life. He had no free-time interests, no desire to spend time with his wife, and by now the children had moved out, even though Linda’s situation might be open to discussion. The result was that he usually locked himself in his office with his nose buried in the account books. Numbers were the one thing that he understood in life. Unlike people with their troublesome emotions and irrationality, numbers obeyed strict rules. He could always rely on them. He felt comfortable in their world. It didn’t take a genius to understand where this craving for order and clarity came from. Gabriel himself had long ascribed it to his chaotic childhood, but it was nothing that he ever dwelled on. His need for order had served him well; the origin of the craving had consequently little or no significance.
His time on the road with the Preacher was something he tried not to think about. But when he did recall his childhood, the image of his father as the Preacher always popped up. A faceless, terror-inducing figure who filled their days with shrieking, jabbering, and hysterical people. Men and women who tried to grab him and Johannes. Who seized them with their clawlike hands, trying to get them to alleviate whatever physical or mental pain plagued them. Who believed that he and his brother had the answer to their prayers. A direct channel to God.
Johannes had loved those years. He had basked in the attention and gladly put himself in the spotlight. Sometimes Gabriel had come upon him gazing at his hands in fascination at night when they went to bed, as if to try and see the source of all the wondrous miracles.
Gabriel had felt an enormous gratitude when the gift vanished, but Johannes had been disconsolate. He couldn’t deal with the fact that now he was merely an ordinary boy with no special gift; he was just like everybody else. He had wept and beseeched the Preacher to help him regain the gift. But that life was over, said their father curtly, and another would be starting. Inscrutable were the ways of the Lord.
When they moved into the manor house outside Fjällbacka, the Preacher became Ephraim, not Father, in Gabriel’s eyes, and he loved that new life from the first moment. Not because he grew closer to his father – Johannes had always been the favourite and that’s what he continued to be – but because he had finally found a home. A place where he could stay, a setting around which he could order his life, with strokes of the clock to follow and times to respect. A school to attend. He also loved the farm and dreamed about being able to run it someday the way he wished. He knew that he would be a better manager than either Ephraim or Johannes, and in the evenings he prayed that his father would not make the mistake of letting his favourite son take over the farm when they grew up. It didn’t matter to him if Johannes got all the love and attention, as long as he, Gabriel, got the farm.
And that was what happened. But not in the way he had imagined. In his imaginary world Johannes had always been there too. Not until he died did Gabriel understand the need he had for his carefree brother; he needed to worry about Johannes and he needed to rage at him. And yet Gabriel could not have acted otherwise.
He had asked Laine to keep quiet about the fact that they assumed it was Stefan and Robert who had thrown the rocks through the windows. That had surprised him. Had he begun to lose his feeling for law and order, or did he subconsciously have guilty feelings about the family’s fate? He didn’t know, but afterwards he was grateful that Laine chose to defy him and tell the police everything. But that too had astonished him. In his eyes, his wife was more of a shrill, loose-jointed nodding doll rather than a human being with her own will. He had been shocked by the acrimony in her tone of voice and the spite that he saw in her eyes. It had disturbed him greatly. With all that had happened in the past week, he felt as though his entire world order was about to be altered. For a man who detested change, it was a frightening vision of the future. Gabriel retreated even further into the world of numbers.
The first guests arrived punctually. Patrik’s father Lars and his wife Bittan came on the dot at four, bringing flowers and a bottle of wine for their hosts. Patrik’s father was a big, tall man with a large paunch. His wife of twenty years was petite and short and round as a little ball. But it suited her, and the laugh lines around her eyes showed an ever-present readiness to smile. Erica knew that Patrik in many ways found it was easier to get along with Bittan than with his own mother, Kristina, who was a much more abrupt and strict sort of person. The divorce had been bitter, but over time a peace accord had been established between Lars and Kristina, though they would never be friends. They could even get along in social situations occasionally. But it was still simpler to invite each of them separately. Since Kristina was in Göteborg at the moment visiting Patrik’s younger sister, there was no reason to worry that they had only invited Lars and Bittan to the barbecue.
Fifteen minutes later, Dan and Maria arrived. They had scarcely taken their seats
out in the garden and politely greeted Lars and Bittan, before Erica heard her niece Emma calling from the slope leading up towards the house. She went to meet them, and after hugging the kids she was introduced to the new man in Anna’s life.
‘Hello, how nice to meet you at last!’
She held out her hand to greet Gustav af Klint. The first impression confirmed her prejudices. He looked exactly like the other young, upper-class Östermalm men who hung out at the clubs around Stureplan in Stockholm. Dark hair slicked back. Shirt and trousers in a deceptively casual style, but Erica had some idea of their price, as well as the obligatory jumper draped over his shoulders. She had to remind herself not to judge him in advance. He had barely opened his mouth when she was already heaping scorn on him in her mind. For a second, she wondered worriedly whether it was sheer envy that made her bristle whenever she had to deal with someone who’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. She hoped that wasn’t true.
‘So how’s Auntie’s baby? Are you being nice to your mamma?’
Her sister put her ear to Erica’s belly to listen for an answer to her question. Then she laughed and gave her sister a big hug. After Patrik had been given one too, they were steered out to the rest of the guests in the garden and introduced. The children were let loose in the garden, while the grown- ups drank wine, or cola in Erica’s case, and the meat was put on the grill. As usual, the males gathered round the barbecue, feeling like he-men while the women sat and talked. Erica had never understood the thing about men and barbecuing. Men who would normally claim to have no idea how to cook a piece of meat in a frying pan regarded themselves as complete virtuosos when it came to getting the meat exactly right on an outdoor grill. Women might be entrusted to provide the side dishes, and they also functioned as excellent beer-fetchers.
‘God, what a lovely place you have here!’ Maria was already into her second glass of wine, while the others had scarcely begun to sip their first.
‘Thank you. Yes, we like it.’
Erica had a hard time displaying any warmth towards Dan’s girlfriend. She couldn’t understand what he saw in her, especially compared to his ex-wife Pernilla. She suspected that it was another one of those mysteries about men that women couldn’t comprehend. The only thing she knew for sure was that he hadn’t chosen Maria for her conversational ability. Apparently, though, Maria aroused maternal instincts in Bittan, who was paying some extra attention to her. That left Anna and Erica to talk to each other.
‘He’s so cute,’ said Anna, looking at Gustav in admiration. ‘Imagine that a guy like that is interested in me!’
Erica looked at her beautiful younger sister and wondered how a person like Anna could lose her self-confidence so completely. Once she had been a strong, independent, free soul, but the years with Lucas and all his abuse had broken her spirit. Erica had to restrain a desire to shake her. She looked at Emma and Adrian chasing wildly round them and wondered how her sister could help feeling pride and self- esteem when she saw what fine children she had raised. Despite everything they had been through in their short lives, they were happy and strong, and they loved their family and friends. And that was all thanks to Anna.
‘I haven’t had much chance to talk to him yet,’ said Erica, ‘but he seems nice. I’ll have to get back to you with a more detailed evaluation after I’ve got to know him better. But it sounds as though things went well when you were cooped up in a little sailboat together. That bodes well, I should think.’ Her smile felt stiff and pasted on.
‘I wouldn’t exactly call it a little sailboat,’ said Anna with a laugh. ‘He borrowed a friend’s Najad 400. There was enough room for a small army.’
Their talk was interrupted when the meat was brought to the table, and the male half of the party sat down with them, pleased at having performed the modern equivalent of slaughtering a sabre-toothed tiger.
‘And what are you girls sitting here babbling about?’
Dan put his arm round Maria, who cuddled up to him. The cuddle developed into a regular clinch. Even though it had been years since Erica and Dan had been together, she didn’t appreciate the sight of those two in a lip-lock. Gustav also looked disapproving but, Erica couldn’t help noticing, out of the corner of his eye he was careful to scope out Maria’s deep décolletage.
‘Lars, don’t pour so much sauce on your meat. You know you have to watch your weight because of your heart.’
‘What do you mean, I’m as strong as a horse! All this is pure muscle,’ Patrik’s father announced loudly, slapping his paunch. ‘And Erica said that there’s olive oil in the sauce, so it’s good for me. Olive oil is good for the heart. Anyone will tell you that.’
Erica controlled her desire to point out that the amount he’d poured on his meat couldn’t be considered a recommended serving. They’d had the same discussion many times before, and Lars was an expert at taking only the nutritional advice that suited him. Food was his great passion in life, and he viewed all attempts to circumscribe his eating habits as a personal assault. Bittan had long since resigned herself to his ways, but she still tried now and again to give him little tips. All attempts to get him on a diet had failed, since he sneaked food whenever she turned her back. Then he would open his eyes wide in astonishment that he hadn’t lost weight even though, by his own testimony, he ate no more than your average rabbit.
‘Do you know E-Type?’ Maria had stopped plumbing the depths of Dan’s mouth and was now gazing in fascination at Gustav. ‘I mean, he hangs with the Princess and her pals, and Dan said that you know the royal family, so I thought maybe you knew him. He’s so cool!’
Gustav seemed totally amazed that anyone would think it was cooler to know E-Type than the King, but he replied guardedly to Maria’s question. ‘I’m a bit older than the Crown Princess, but my little brother knows her and Martin Eriksson too.’
Maria looked confused. ‘Who’s Martin Eriksson?’
Gustav sighed heavily and said reluctantly after a short pause, ‘E-Type.’
‘Oh, I get it. Cool.’ She laughed and looked very impressed.
Good Lord, is she even twenty-one as Dan claimed? thought Erica. She would have guessed more like seventeen. But she was cute, even Erica had to admit that. She cast a glance down at her own heavy breasts, confirming that the days when her nipples pointed up to the sky like Maria’s were long gone.
The party was probably not the most successful one they’d given. Erica and Patrik did their best to keep the conversation going, but Dan and Gustav could have come from different planets, and Maria had drunk far too much wine and far too fast. She had to throw up in the toilet. The only one having a good time was Lars, who was steadily nibbling away at all the leftovers on the platter, happily ignoring Bittan’s withering looks.
By eight o’clock everyone had left, and Patrik and Erica were alone with the dirty dishes.
They decided to ignore them for a while and sat down with their glasses in their hands.
‘Oh, how I’d like a glass of wine right now.’ Erica gazed glumly at her glass of cola.
‘Well, after this dinner I can understand why you’d need a glass. Dear Jesus, how did we manage to put such a motley crew together? And what the heck were we thinking?’ He laughed and shook his head. ‘“Do you know E-Type?”’ Patrik switched to a falsetto to imitate Maria, and Erica couldn’t help giggling.
“‘God, how cool!”’ He kept up the falsetto and Erica’s giggle turned into unrestrained laughter.
“‘My mamma says it doesn’t matter if you’re a little dumb, as long as you’re cuuute!”’
Now he had tilted his head in an endearing fashion at the same time, and Erica was holding her stomach and gasping with laughter, ‘Stop, I can’t take any more. Weren’t you the one who told me that I had to be nice?’
‘Okay, all right, I know. It’s just so hard to resist.’ Patrik turned serious. ‘Erica, what do you think about that Gustav? Doesn’t seem like the warmest person in the world. Do you really th
ink he’s right for Anna?’
Erica’s laughter died out abruptly and she frowned. ‘No, I’m a bit worried. Anyone would be better than a wife- beater, I should think, but I would have…’ She hesitated, searching for the right word, ‘I would have wished for something better for Anna. Did you see how disapproving he looked when the kids were making noise and running around? I’ll bet he’s the type that thinks children should be seen and not heard. And that would be so wrong for Anna. She needs somebody who’s nice and warm and loving. Somebody who makes her feel good. Whatever she says now, I can see that she isn’t feeling good. But she doesn’t think she deserves better.’
They sat and watched the sun setting in the sea like a fiery red ball, but for once the evening’s beauty was wasted. Worry about her sister was weighing on Erica. Sometimes the responsibility felt so huge that she had a hard time breathing. If she felt such responsibility for her sister, how was she going to handle the responsibility for another small life?
The Preacher Page 14