And Dagmar insisted on pampering her. Emelie was sometimes embarrassed by how much fuss the old woman made of her, and how little she was expected to do. She tried to help with the cleaning, dishwashing, and cooking, because she wanted to be useful and not a burden. But Dagmar merely chased her away, saying that she ought to rest. Finally Emelie had to surrender to a will stronger than her own. And she had to admit that it was wonderful just to rest. Her back and joints ached, and the child was constantly kicking inside of her. Above all, she felt so tired. At night she could sleep for twelve hours straight and then take a nap after the midday meal, and still not feel fully awake during the daytime.
It was lovely to have someone taking care of her. Dagmar made her tea and strange brews that were supposed to increase her strength. She also persuaded Emelie to eat the oddest things in order to fortify her body. None of them seemed to help much, because she still felt so tired, but she realized that it made Dagmar happy to feel needed. So Emelie cheerfully ate and drank everything that was placed in front of her.
What she enjoyed most was the evenings they spent together. Then they would sit in the parlour and converse as they knitted, crocheted, and sewed garments for the baby. Emelie had never devoted much time to such things until she came to stay with Dagmar. As a maid on a farm, she’d had other chores to tend to. But Dagmar was skilled with needle and thread, and she taught Emelie everything she knew. The piles of baby clothes and blankets grew to include little caps, gowns, socks, and everything else a newborn might need. Loveliest of all was the patchwork quilt that they both worked on for a while each evening. On one square after another they embroidered whatever pattern occurred to them. Emelie’s favourite were the squares with hollyhocks. The sight of them always tugged at her heartstrings. Because no matter how strange it seemed, she sometimes missed Gråskär. Not Karl or Julian – she didn’t miss them for an instant. But the island had become part of her.
One evening she’d tried to tell Dagmar about Gråskär and those who inhabited it and why she had never felt alone. But that was the one topic that she and Dagmar couldn’t discuss. Dagmar’s expression had grown stern, and she averted her eyes so that Emelie realized that the elderly woman didn’t want to hear what she was saying. Maybe that wasn’t really so strange. Even she thought it sounded odd when she tried to describe what she’d experienced, although it all seemed so natural when she was on the island. When she was among them.
There was one other topic that they never discussed. Emelie had tried to ask questions about Karl, about his father and his childhood. But then the same stern expression appeared on Dagmar’s face. The only thing she would say was that Karl’s father had always demanded a great deal from his sons, and that Karl had disappointed him. Dagmar said that she didn’t know all the details, and for that reason she didn’t want to talk about it. So Emelie had stopped asking. Instead she allowed herself to sink into the calm embrace of Dagmar’s home, and in the evenings she knitted little socks for the child whose arrival was rapidly approaching. Gråskär and Karl would have to wait. They belonged to another world, another time. Right now the only things that existed were the sound of her knitting needles and the yarn that shone so white in the glow from the paraffin lamps. She would return to life on the island soon enough. This was all just part of a brief and happy dream.
18
‘Where did you find it?’ Paula shook hands with Peter and stepped on board the Coast Guard vessel.
‘We had a call about a stranded boat in a cove.’
‘How come you didn’t find it before? Haven’t you been out looking for it?’ asked Martin. He was enthusiastically surveying the Coast Guard vessel. He knew that she was capable of doing almost thirty knots. Maybe he could persuade Peter to increase their speed after they got further out.
‘There are so many coves out here in the archipelago,’ said Peter, steering the boat away from the dock with a sure hand. ‘It’s pure luck that anyone found it at all.’
‘And you’re positive it’s the right boat?’
‘Not yet, but when I see it I’ll recognize Gunnar’s boat.’
‘How do we get it back home?’ Paula was peering through the window. She’d spent far too little time on the water. It was astonishingly beautiful. She turned around and looked at Fjällbacka, which was now behind them and quickly receding into the distance.
‘We’ll tow it back. I thought we should first go out there and make sure it’s the right boat. Then I realized that you might want to examine the place where it was found.’
‘There’s probably not much to see,’ replied Martin. ‘But it’s nice to be out on the water for a while.’ He cast a glance at the throttle but didn’t dare ask. More boats were appearing, and it might be foolish to go any faster, even though he wished they could.
‘You should come out with me again sometime, and I can show you what kind of horsepower she’s got,’ said Peter with an amused smile, as if he could read Martin’s mind.
‘That’d be great!’ Martin’s pale face lit up, and Paula shook her head. Boys and their toys.
‘Over there,’ said Peter, turning the boat starboard. And there it was. A wooden motorboat, wedged into a small crevice. It didn’t look damaged, but it seemed to be stuck.
‘That’s Gunnar’s boat all right. I’m sure of it,’ said Peter. ‘Who wants to be the first ashore?’
Martin looked at Paula, who pretended not to have heard the question. She was a city girl from Stockholm. Wading ashore on sharp rocks was something she would leave to Martin. He climbed up on the bow, grabbed the mooring line, and waited for the right moment. Peter turned off the engine and then helped Paula out of the boat. She almost fell in after slipping on some algae, but she managed to keep her balance. Martin would never stop teasing her if she fell in the water.
Moving cautiously, they made their way over to the motorboat. On closer inspection they could see that it was undamaged.
‘How the hell did it end up here?’ Martin scratched his head.
‘It looks like it just drifted,’ said Peter.
‘Could it have drifted here all the way from the harbour?’ asked Paula, but from the look on Peter’s face she could tell that she’d asked a silly question.
‘No,’ he said.
‘She’s from Stockholm,’ Martin explained, and Paula glared at him.
‘Stockholm has an archipelago too.’
Martin and Peter both looked sceptical.
‘A flooded forest,’ they said in unison.
Paula walked around the boat. Sometimes people who lived on the west coast were so narrow-minded. If she heard anybody say one more time: ‘Ohhhh, you’re from the backside of Sweden,’ she was going to slug the individual in question.
Peter climbed back on board MinLouis, and Martin tied a towline to Gunnar’s motorboat. Then he motioned for Paula to come closer.
‘Come and help me push,’ he said, as he started shoving the boat out of the crevice.
Paula carefully made her way over the sharp rocks to lend a hand. After a good deal of effort, they managed to get the boat loose, and it slipped smoothly away from the shore.
‘All right then,’ said Paula and headed back to the Coast Guard vessel. Suddenly she felt her feet slip out from under her, and she fell. She was instantly soaking wet. Shit. Her colleagues were going to make fun of her for a long time to come.
They were constantly with her now. They made her feel safe, even though she saw them only out of the corner of her eye. Sometimes she thought the boy looked a little like Sam, with his curly hair and that mischievous glint in his eye, except that he was blond, while Sam had dark hair. But like Sam, the boy kept his gaze fixed on his mother.
Nathalie sensed rather than saw the woman. And she heard her. The hem of her dress sweeping along the floor, the small admonitions directed at the boy, the warnings whenever she saw something that might be dangerous. She was a rather over-protective mother, just as Nathalie was. Occasionally the woman had tried
to speak to her. There was something she wanted to say, but Nathalie refused to hear it.
The boy liked being in Sam’s room. Sometimes it sounded as if Sam was talking to him, but she couldn’t be sure. She didn’t dare move closer to listen, because she didn’t want to disturb them if they really were having a conversation. It gave her hope. In time, Sam would talk to her too. Even though she represented safety for him, she understood that Sam also associated her with all the terrible things he’d experienced in his life.
It was warm inside the house, but she found herself suddenly shivering. What if they weren’t safe here after all? Maybe one day they’d see a boat approaching the island, just as she’d feared. A boat filled with the same evil that they’d tried to leave behind.
She heard voices coming from Sam’s room. Her fear vanished as swiftly as it had appeared. The little blond boy was talking to Sam, and it sounded as if Sam was replying. Her heart leaped with happiness. It was so hard to know what was right. All she could do was follow her instinct, which was based on her love for Sam – and it kept telling her to give him more time. Let him heal here, in peace and quiet.
No boat was going to come. She repeated that to herself like a mantra as she sat at the kitchen table and looked out of the window. No boat was going to come. Sam was talking, and that must mean that he was on his way back to her. She heard the little boy’s voice again. She smiled. She was glad that Sam had a friend.
Patrik was watching Gösta rummage in his jacket pocket.
‘Could you please tell me what this is all about?’
After a moment Gösta seemed to find what he was looking for. He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Patrik.
‘What’s this? Or rather, who is this?’ Patrik was looking at the photograph he held in his hand.
‘I don’t really know. But I found it in Sverin’s flat.’
‘Where?’
Gösta swallowed hard. ‘In his bedroom.’
‘Can you explain to me how it happened to end up in your jacket pocket?’
‘I thought it might be of interest, so I took it along. But then I forgot about it,’ said Gösta in a subdued voice.
‘You forgot about it?’ Patrik was so angry that for a second everything went black before his eyes. ‘How could you possibly forget something like this? All we’ve talked about lately is how little we know about Mats, and how hard it’s been to find out who he knew.’
Gösta seemed to shrink as they stood there in the corridor. ‘I realize that, but at least I’m showing it to you now. Better late than never, right?’ He attempted a smile.
‘And you have no idea who this is?’ asked Patrik, now taking a moment to study the picture properly.
‘Not a clue. But it must have been someone who was important to Sverin. And it occurred to me that … I thought about it when we were …’ He nodded towards the room where Marie was waiting for them.
‘It’s worth a try,’ said Patrik. ‘But we’re not done talking about this, you and I. Just so you know.’
‘I know.’ Gösta looked down at the floor, but he seemed relieved at the reprieve, no matter how temporary.
They went back into the break room. Marie looked as nervous as she had before.
Patrik got straight to the point.
‘Who is this?’ he said, placing the photo on the table in front of Marie. He saw her eyes open wide.
‘Madeleine,’ she said, looking scared. She covered her mouth with her hand.
‘Who’s Madeleine?’
Patrik tapped his finger on the photo in order to force Marie to keep looking at it. She didn’t answer as she uneasily shifted position on her chair.
‘This is a murder investigation, and any information you have may help us to find out who killed Mats. That’s what you want too, isn’t it?’
Marie looked at them with an unhappy expression. Her hands were shaking, and her voice faltered as she finally began to tell them what she knew. About Madeleine.
When the tech team arrived to carry out a thorough examination of the boat, Paula and Martin drove back to the station. Paula had borrowed a huge pair of waterproof trousers and an orange fleece shirt from the Coast Guard office. She glared at anyone who might even consider making some sort of sarcastic remark. Once seated inside the car, she turned up the heat. The sea water had been icy cold, and she was still freezing.
The volume on the radio was up as high as it would go, so they almost didn’t hear Martin’s mobile when it rang. He turned down the music before answering his phone.
‘That’s great! Can we go over there now? We’re headed back, so we can stop off there on the way.’ He ended the conversation and turned to Paula. ‘That was Annika. Lennart has finished going through the documents, so we can go see him any time we like.’
‘Perfect,’ said Paula, looking a bit happier.
Fifteen minutes later they parked in front of the ExtraFilm office. Lennart was eating lunch at his desk when they came in, but he set aside his sandwich and wiped his hands on a napkin. He cast a surprised look at what Paula was wearing, but wisely decided not to comment.
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he said.
Lennart radiated warmth, just as his wife did. Paula thought that their adoptive daughter had no idea how lucky she was to end up with Annika and Lennart as her parents.
‘She’s so cute,’ said Paula, pointing at the photo of the little girl that Lennart had pinned up on his bulletin board.
‘Yes, she certainly is.’ He smiled broadly, then motioned for them to sit down in the visitors’ chairs in front of his desk. ‘I don’t know whether it’s really worth your time to sit down. I’ve looked through everything as carefully as I could, but there’s really not much to tell you. The finances seem to be in order, and I didn’t find anything that leaped out at me. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was supposed to be looking for. From what I can tell, the town has invested a lot of money in the project and also negotiated extended payment clauses. But there’s nothing that set off any alarm bells in here – my best financial instrument.’ Lennart patted himself on the stomach.
Martin started to say something, but Lennart went on:
‘The Berkelins – Vivianne and Anders – are responsible for a large part of the expenses, and according to the documents, the financing that they’ve arranged is due to arrive on Monday. I’m afraid I haven’t been much help.’
‘Yes, you have. At least it’s good to hear that the town is doing a good job of handling our money.’ Martin stood up.
‘Well, so far, so good. But everything depends on whether they’re able to bring in customers. Otherwise it’s going to be expensive for the taxpayers.’
‘We thought it was really nice, at any rate.’
‘Yes, Annika told me that all of you had a good time at the spa. And that Mellberg was apparently pampered like royalty.’
Paula and Martin laughed. ‘We wish we could have seen it. Rumour has it that they gave him an oyster treatment. But we’ll just have to imagine Mellberg covered with oyster shells,’ said Paula.
‘Well, here’s everything.’ Lennart handed them the stack of papers. ‘As I said, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be of more help.’
‘It’s not your fault. We’ll have to keep looking, that’s all,’ said Paula, but she couldn’t hide how discouraged she felt. The discovery of Gunnar’s boat had given them a little boost, but the euphoria hadn’t lasted long. It seemed very unlikely that the boat would provide any new leads in the investigation.
‘I’ll drop you off and then go home to change my clothes,’ she told Martin as they neared the station. Then she gave him a warning look.
He nodded, but she knew that the minute he stepped in the door, he would be gleefully embellishing the story of how she’d taken an involuntary dip in the water.
Paula parked outside her building and dashed upstairs to the flat. She was still feeling chilled, as if the cold water had seeped right into her bones. Her hands shook as
she put the key in the lock, but finally she got the door open.
‘Hello?’ she called, expecting to hear her mother’s cheerful voice from the kitchen.
‘Hi,’ she heard. It was Johanna’s voice, coming from the bedroom. She went in, surprised to find her home from work at this time of day.
Something was going on. Something that had kept Paula awake at night, listening to Johanna breathing. Even though Paula could tell that she too was wide awake, she hadn’t dared say anything. She wasn’t sure that she really wanted to know what was troubling her. Now Johanna was sitting on their bed with such a dejected look on her face that Paula wanted to turn around and run away. All sorts of thoughts raced through her mind. All kinds of potential scenarios popped up, and she didn’t want to see how any of them played out. But now they were both here, face to face, in an empty flat without all the usual commotion to hide behind. No dogs running around. No Rita singing loudly in the kitchen and playing with Leo. No Mellberg shouting obscenities at the TV. Nothing but silence. And the two of them.
‘What on earth are you wearing?’ asked Johanna at last, looking Paula up and down.
‘I fell in the water,’ said Paula, glancing down at the ugly fleece shirt which was so big that it reached almost to her knees. ‘I just came home to change.’
‘Why don’t you do that. Then we’ll talk. I can’t have a serious conversation with you dressed like that.’ She smiled wryly, which made Paula’s stomach lurch. She loved Johanna’s smile, but she hadn’t seen it much lately.
‘Could you make some tea while I get changed? Then we can sit in the kitchen.’
Johanna nodded and left the room. Paula’s fingers were stiff with cold and fear as she changed into jeans and a white T-shirt. Then she took a deep breath and went out to the kitchen. This was not a conversation that she wanted to have, but she had no choice. All she could do was close her eyes and dive in.
He hated lying to her. She had been everything to him for so long, and it frightened him that for the first time he was prepared to sacrifice what they had together. Anders was breathing hard as he headed up the steep, narrow slope towards Mörhult. He had to get out in the fresh air for a while, and away from Vivianne. There was no other way to view it.
Patrick Hedstrom 07: The Lost Boy Page 34