by Mikaela Bley
Then, when she came home, that journalist had been sitting on their couch, and suddenly they were going to pay a lot of money to anyone who could lead them to Lycke. Their money. Of course they would do that, but Harald could have talked with her first. He’d gone to TV4, and after that he hadn’t come home.
‘Do you remember why we named her Lycke?’ Helena sneaked a glance at Harald.
Harald nodded. ‘She was going to bring us happiness.’
Then Helena turned to Chloé. ‘Could we turn off those sirens?’
‘Excuse me?’ Chloé said, clenching her fist. ‘Harald, can I speak with you alone?’
‘Not now, Chloé,’ was all he said, shaking his head.
Something hard and angular pressed against her foot.
‘Ouch! Ludde, stop, don’t do that to Mum.’
Ludde took the fire truck under his arm and quickly crawled away from her into the kitchen.
‘Wait, Ludde, sorry.’ She tried to reach for him, but he was too quick, and besides she couldn’t imagine anything more undignified than her running after him like a nanny.
Ludde toddled up to Harald and tried to get up on his lap.
‘Not now, Ludde,’ said Harald, pushing him away. ‘Please, Chloé, can you take him?’
Now it seems I’m good for something, she thought, still standing by the door.
Ludde continued to cling to Harald.
‘Can you take him, Chloé? We’re trying to talk here.’ Harald took the fire truck from Ludde and set it on the table where he couldn’t reach it.
‘He’s just a child,’ said Chloé, going up and picking Ludde up. ‘Your child. Our child.’ She left the kitchen and went out.
She quickly got Ludde dressed and put him in the stroller, took the elevator down, and went out onto Karlavägen. She put earbuds in her ears and pulled up the hood of her rain jacket.
Whatever happens, I have Ludde at least, she thought, entering her mother’s number into her phone, who answered right away.
‘I can’t stand it, Mum. You should have seen them sitting in our kitchen.’
‘Calm down now. What’s happened? Who was sitting in your kitchen?’
Chloé told her about Harald and Helena.
‘That’s not so strange. You must try to support them in this situation.’
‘I’m trying, but they don’t want to talk to me. Harald isn’t even sleeping at home. It’s as if I don’t exist,’ she said, sticking her hand in under the rain cover on his stroller to give Ludde a pacifier. ‘There now, quiet, Ludde … I can’t take this, mum, I’m about to lose it.’
‘Calm now —’
‘I’m scared,’ she whispered, looking around to make sure that no one could hear her. Fortunately, not many people were out walking around in this weather.
‘Why are you afraid?’
‘I can’t take this.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m so scared that they’ll suspect me, Mum. What if the police find out what a hard time I’ve had with Lycke?’
‘But dear, that’s no crime.’
Chloé dried her eyes.
‘A lot of people have a hard time with their stepchildren. It’s no crime. Think how it was for me with Bengt and his insufferable sons. Do you remember?’
She remembered. But that didn’t help.
After Chloé’s father died, a number of men and their children had moved in and out. One jerk after the other. No one had succeeded in filling the vacuum left by her dad. No one. Until she met Harald.
‘Mum,’ she said, sobbing as she nodded at two mothers she usually talked with at Ludde’s preschool. They slowed down when they saw her, looking like they wanted to stop and talk.
Chloé pointed at her earbuds to indicate that she was occupied. Now she regretted all the times she’d sat at preschool and vented frustration about how ill-mannered and strange Lycke was. Anxiety gnawed at her. Why did she always talk so openly with anyone and everyone about how she felt?
‘The police asked me about why I wanted Harald to have a paternity test.’
‘Why is that? What does that have to do with it? That was so long ago, before you got married.’
‘I don’t understand. It wasn’t so strange that I wanted to know if Lycke really was his, was it?’
‘But what did the police say?’
‘They asked why, and I told them the way it was.’ Chloé was shaking. ‘I’m sure it’s Helena who told them that.’
‘I think you’re tired, and you’re having a hard time thinking clearly right now. Can I help you in any way, honey? Should I take care of Ludde for a few hours so you can rest up?’
‘No. Thanks.’ She couldn’t part with Ludde. Not even to her mother, not now. He was all she had.
‘But you can help me with one thing,’ she said. ‘If the police or Harald ask you where I was last Friday afternoon, you can just say that I was at home with you.’
ELLEN
7.30 P.M.
Ellen swiped her access card and went into the editorial offices after having a cigarette on the loading dock.
It felt like everyone was staring at her. She avoided meeting anyone’s eyes, feeling unsure of who she could trust and who knew what.
After writing a long report about her visit to Lycke’s school and conducting a live interview with the police, she locked herself in the editing room.
Nothing new had emerged during the day.
Her skin was crawling. There were so many emotions coursing through her, and she was still angry at Jimmy.
He’d called her several times during the day, but she couldn’t bear to talk with him. What was there to say? She didn’t want to know anyway. She wasn’t interested in his poor excuses.
The story from the school, along with the latest news in the search for Lycke, topped the seven o’clock broadcast on Monday evening — and if nothing radical happened, it would be the lead story on the ten o’clock news, too. Followed closely by the torrential rains still drowning the country.
Ellen was packing up her things when the phone rang. It was an anonymous number, and she hesitated a few seconds before answering.
‘This is Ellen.’
Silence.
‘Hello. This is Ellen at TV4 news here. Is anyone there?’
Still silence. Ellen looked at the receiver as if it could give her an idea of who was calling.
‘Hello?!’ she said, angrily.
‘You ought to know that telling lies is an ugly thing to do. Terrible is what it is.’
‘Sorry,’ said Ellen, a bit surprised, recognising the voice on the other end as an elderly woman. ‘Who am I speaking with?’
‘It’s a concoction of lies.’
‘If you have a complaint to make, I have to ask that you speak with our customer relations department.’ Ellen regretted answering the phone. ‘Shall I transfer you, ma’am?’ Out of habit, she’d immediately spoken more politely because she was talking with an older person, justified or not.
‘No. You’re the one I want to talk with. You’re the one who’s telling lies.’
‘I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you mean. What lies are you talking about?’
‘You claim that they were grieving at the school today.’
‘I see,’ Ellen said, starting to understand what this was about.
‘You claim that they’re worried about Lycke, but no one cares, no one ever has. It’s hypocrisy.’
Ellen straightened up.
‘Do you happen to know Lycke? Are you part of the family?’
Her heart beat faster.
‘That doesn’t matter. I won’t tell you my name or my relationship to Lycke, I don’t want to be part of this playacting. People ought to be ashamed. Terrible is what it is.’
‘Ashamed of what?’ Ellen wanted to understand what
the woman was talking about.
‘Why are you trying to make it look like there are a lot of people grieving for Lycke? Are you journalists that easy to buy off? Don’t you learn to question your sources, or whatever they’re called? That’s exactly why society looks the way it does, because you can’t question things!’
‘Do you want to tell me a different side to the story?’ Ellen asked, picking up a pen.
‘No, thanks. I don’t talk to your type. I’ll say goodbye now.’
‘Wait …’
The woman had hung up.
Ellen immediately called reception.
‘Can you check up on who just called me? I want a name and number.’
Ignoring the receptionist’s sighs, she leaned back in her chair and thought about what exactly the woman had said.
Ellen didn’t have long to think before the receptionist called her back.
‘The number belongs to a Harald Höök.’
ELLEN
8.00 P.M.
Half an hour later, Ellen was standing on Abrahamsbergsvägen looking up at the yellow brick facade, with its orange sheet-metal balconies.
The number appeared to lead to Lycke’s nanny, Mona. Presumably, Harald paid for her telephone.
Ellen had googled Mona, but there hadn’t been even one hit. It seemed almost impossible to her that you could go through life without making a single impression on the internet.
After apologising for portraying the situation incorrectly, and assuring the woman that she would now do her utmost to make amends and find Lycke, she was at last able to arrange a meeting. Without cameras, of course.
‘Come in,’ Mona said, a little suspiciously, backing up shyly in the narrow, dark hallway. She didn’t look at all like Ellen had expected. She was short and stout and considerably older than she’d imagined. She reminded her of Aunt Berg from Astrid Lindgren’s Lotta on Troublemaker Street, with her small, round eyeglasses.
Ellen tentatively extended her hand in greeting. She was almost afraid of frightening the older woman, who surprised her by shaking her hand so firmly that it hurt.
‘Can I take your jacket?’
Ellen nodded and took off the wet jacket, apologising that it was dripping and getting the hall wet. Just like her soaked Converse shoes.
She followed Mona into the living room. She looked discreetly around the room, taking care not to seem like she was snooping.
It was a cosy little two-room apartment. The furnishings were far from fashionable, with pine furniture, flowery curtains, and walls decorated with everything from embroidery to dried flowers in frames.
Ellen was surprised to see that the embroidered proverb hanging over the couch was her own personal favourite.
‘I always try to think that way,’ Ellen said, pointing at the hanging.
Without rain, nothing will grow.
‘I see.’ Mona sighed out loud. ‘The past few days, I’ve actually thought about taking that down.’
Ellen smiled.
‘But I assume you’re not here to talk about proverbs,’ said Mona, eyeing her critically.
‘That’s right. I’d like to ask you a few questions about Lycke, to get a better picture of who she is. And then hopefully I’ll be able to do a better job. As you can see, I don’t have any cameras with me.’ Ellen held up her arms to demonstrate that she had nothing to hide.
Mona looked sceptical, inspecting her from head to toe.
‘Yes, as I said earlier, I don’t have much use for your type — well, journalists, that is. You have to excuse me, but I think that all you do is revel in the misery of others. You take no responsibility.’
‘I’m sorry you feel —’
‘But that doesn’t mean that I want you to get sick — you must be cold, you poor thing. Your shoes and trousers are completely soaked.’
Ellen looked down at her feet and realised that she was trailing wet footprints behind her.
‘Wait here, and I’ll fetch a pair of dry socks for you.’
‘No, that’s not necessary.’ Ellen was unable to stop her before she disappeared, quickly returning with a pair of socks in one hand and a fleece blanket in the other.
Ellen thanked her and changed socks, then wrapped the soft blanket around her. It actually felt very nice to have something dry on her feet.
‘Would you like coffee?’ Mona asked, and went into the kitchen.
‘Yes, please,’ Ellen said, taking the opportunity to look around a little. On the bookshelf were three framed photos. Lycke she recognised immediately, but the other two children she hadn’t seen before.
‘I apologise for my behaviour earlier. I don’t usually telephone and scold people like that,’ Mona called from the kitchen.
‘It’s no problem,’ Ellen called out so that Mona would hear her through the clattering coming from the kitchen.
‘Usually, I never watch TV4, there are far too many commercials.’
‘Yes, a lot of people say that.’ Ellen smiled to herself and marvelled at the fact that so many people persisted in making that particular comment.
‘Yes, sorry. Perhaps I was being unpleasant again.’ Mona came out of the kitchen with a tray in her hands.
‘No, not at all, I’m used to it,’ Ellen said. ‘Who are the other two children?’ She pointed at the photos.
‘That’s Karl and Alice. I worked with them before I started with the Höök family. They’re grown now,’ she said, setting the tray on the coffee table.
‘Have you always taken care of children?’
‘Yes, basically.’ Mona put the two coffee cups, the lilac-coloured sugar bowl, and the milk pitcher on the coffee table. ‘Sit down, and I’ll get the coffee.’
‘How did you come to work for Lycke’s family?’ Ellen asked, when Mona had sat down beside her on the couch.
‘It was through the nanny service,’ said Mona. ‘Just so you know, I’m bound by professional secrecy. You should know how many people like you have called since Lycke —’ She fell silent. ‘I really don’t want to talk with any of you, but I can’t sit and watch how those people pretend to care about Lycke, either.’ She pointed toward the TV.
Ellen nodded, and Mona poured coffee for both of them.
‘How long have you worked for the Höök family?’
‘Yes, it must be — how long is it now?’ Mona thought about it. ‘Can it be five years? Yes, since the parents separated.’
‘Four years then.’ Ellen corrected her, and noticed from Mona’s look that she was surprised. Her chapped hands trembled as she raised the coffee cup.
‘Yes, it feels longer. In any event, I’m quitting soon.’ She smiled. ‘I’m sixty-five years old, and I’m retiring before summer.’
‘What will you do then?’
‘Yes, what does one do? Either you wait for it to grow’ — she cast a glance behind her at the proverb hanging above them — ‘or else you wait for death,’ she said morosely. ‘ I hope the wait isn’t too long.’ She blinked from behind her round eyeglasses.
She’d said it so calmly. Ellen interpreted it as her saying she wasn’t afraid of death. She wished she could feel that way herself. Hopefully that feeling grew within you, the older you got.
They had their coffee, listening to the sound of the brakes as a train stopped at the station platform below the building.
‘Were you — or, sorry, are you and Lycke close to each other?’
Ellen had a hard time judging whether Mona had reacted when she’d misspoken. She hoped it would pass unnoticed. Mona’s eyes filled with tears, and she nodded slowly.
‘Very close,’ she said, carefully setting down her cup.
‘What do you think happened?’ Ellen placed her hand on Mona’s shoulder, her eyes also filling with tears.
Mona breathed heavily and turned toward Ellen.
‘I can’t understand why everyone has suddenly started to care about Lycke now, when no one cared about her before. It hurts all over when I think about it.’ She looked away.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Ellen.
‘Lycke doesn’t have it easy. That’s all I can say.’
‘Is that because her parents are divorced, do you think? Or is there something else?’ Ellen prompted her.
Mona didn’t answer, and instead poured more coffee.
‘As I said, I’m bound by professional secrecy.’ She looked at Ellen with a serious expression. ‘But one thing I will tell you, and you remember it.’ She held up her index finger. ‘Not everyone is suited to being a parent.’
Ellen was about to ask her to clarify, but Mona quickly interrupted her. ‘That’s all I intend to say.’
Ellen had to give in, for the moment anyway, and so changed focus.
‘Did you see Lycke the day she disappeared?’
‘Yes, I went there as usual at seven o’clock in the morning. I made breakfast for her, dressed her, and went with her to school. Just like I do every day.’
‘Was there anything that was different that day?’
Mona thought about it.
‘I don’t know if it was that different, actually. Fridays have never been a good day, regardless of whether she’s been staying with her mother or father. There are often conflicts, and then tennis, and yes, the weekend. I’m off on weekends,’ she explained.
Ellen nodded.
‘Well, you asked earlier if we’re close to each other. I shouldn’t say this, but I don’t see what harm it can do. The same Friday that Lycke disappeared, Harald and Chloé quarrelled, as usual. Yes, they quarrel a lot, and usually it’s about Lycke.’
‘Was there anything particular about this time?’
‘I don’t want to go into that.’ Mona took a sip of coffee. ‘What do you actually know about Lycke?’
‘Not enough. That’s why I’m here,’ Ellen said.
‘What will you do with this information, if I may ask?’
She seemed different now.
‘I want to help find her.’
Mona looked at her, but didn’t say anything. For a while, there was silence in the room. Only the ticking of the big wall clock could be heard.