Камилла Лэкберг – The Lost Boy (страница 19)

‘Typical! When Grandpa comes home, Grandma might as well disappear.’ Rita frowned but then a smile took over, and she gave them each a kiss on the cheek.

A special bond had existed between Bertil and Leo ever since Bertil had been present at the baby’s birth, and no one was more pleased about this than Rita. Nevertheless she was relieved when Bertil had been convinced to return to work full-time. It had seemed like a good idea to have him fill in for Paula at home, but no matter how much she adored this unlikely hero of hers, she had no illusions when it came to his judgement, which at times was questionable, to say the least.

‘What’s for lunch?’ Mellberg carefully set the boy in his highchair and tied a bib around his neck.

‘Chicken and my homemade salsa that you like so much.’

Mellberg hummed with pleasure. All his life he had never eaten anything more exotic than boiled lamb with dill sauce, potatoes and carrots, but Rita had managed to change all that. Her salsa was so strong that it practically burned the enamel off his teeth, but he loved it.

‘You got home late last night.’ She placed a dish on the table with some less spicy food that she’d made for Leo, and Bertil began feeding the boy.

‘Yes, we’re all going at full throttle again. Paula and the boys are out doing the footwork, but Hedström pointed out, quite rightly, that someone needed to be at the station to deal with the media. And no one is better suited than me to take on such a big responsibility.’ He shovelled a little too much food into Leo’s mouth, who fortunately just let half of it slide right out again.

Rita suppressed a smile. Clearly Patrik had once more succeeded in out-manoeuvring his boss. She liked Hedström. He knew how to handle Mellberg: with patience, diplomacy, and a certain degree of flattery that could get Bertil to do exactly what he wanted. She did the same in order to ensure that their life together ran smoothly.

‘You poor thing. It sounds as if you’re really busy.’ She put some chicken on his plate along with a generous serving of salsa.

Leo had finished eating, so Mellberg dug into his own food. A couple of servings later, he leaned back and patted his stomach.

‘Delicious. And I know exactly what would be perfect to follow that. What do you think, Leo my boy?’ He got up and went over to the freezer.

Rita knew that she ought to stop him, but she didn’t have the heart. She let him take out three big Magnum ice-cream bars, which he happily handed out. Leo almost disappeared behind the huge bar. If Bertil kept on like this, the boy would soon be as wide as he was tall. For today, however, she decided not to worry about it.

FJÄLLBACKA 1870

She moved a little closer to Karl. He was lying on the side of the bed next to the wall, wearing long underwear and a shirt. In a couple of hours he would have to get up to relieve Julian in the lighthouse. Cautiously she placed her hand on his leg, stroking his thigh with trembling fingers. She wasn’t the one who was supposed to take the lead like this, but something was wrong. Why didn’t he ever touch her? He hardly even spoke to her. Merely mumbled his thanks for the food before leaving the table. And he seemed to be always looking past her, as if she were made of glass and barely noticeable, in fact almost invisible.

For that matter, he spent very little time at home. During most of his waking hours he was in the lighthouse or doing work on the boat. Or he was out at sea. She spent all day utterly alone in the cottage, and her housework was soon finished. After that, she had many hours to fill, and she began to think that she might go mad. If she had a baby, she would have someone to keep her company, and other tasks to occupy her time. Then she wouldn’t mind that Karl worked from early morning until late at night, and it wouldn’t matter that he never talked to her. If only they would have a child.

But after living on the farm, she knew that certain things had to happen between a man and a woman before she could end up in the family way. Things that hadn’t yet occurred. That was why she put her hand on Karl’s leg and ran it along the inside of his thigh. Her heart was pounding with nervousness and excitement as she gently slipped her hand inside the fly of his underwear.

Karl sat up with a jolt.

‘What are you doing?’ His expression was darker than she’d ever seen it before, and she yanked her hand away.

‘I … I just thought that …’ She couldn’t find the right words. How was she supposed to explain the obvious? Even he must realize how strange it was that they’d been married for nearly three months, and yet he’d never come near her. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

‘I might as well sleep in the lighthouse. I’m not going to get any peace here.’ Karl pushed past her, threw on his clothes, and stomped down the stairs.

Emelie felt as if he’d slapped her face. Up until now he had simply ignored her; this was the first time he’d spoken to her with that tone of voice. Harsh, cold, and contemptuous. And he’d looked at her as if she were some disgusting creature that had crawled out from under a rock.

With tears running down her cheeks, Emelie crept over to the window and looked out. The wind was blowing hard across the island, and Karl had to fight the gusts as he headed for the lighthouse. He tore open the door and went inside. Then she saw him appear in the window of the tower, where the beam of light transformed him into a shadow.

She went back to bed and wept. The house creaked and groaned, almost as if it might rise up and fly over the islands, out into the grey sky. But that didn’t frighten her. She’d rather fly away, to anywhere at all, than stay here.

She felt something caress her cheek, at the very spot where Karl’s words had left a sting, as if he’d slapped her. Emelie sat up with a start. No one was there. She pulled the covers up to her chin and stared into the dark corners of the room. She saw nothing. She lay down again. It was probably just her imagination. Same as all the other sounds that she’d heard since coming to the island. Not to mention the cupboard doors she sometimes found open, although she was certain that she’d closed them. And the sugar bowl that had somehow moved from the kitchen table to the counter. She must have made up all those things. It had to be her imagination, combined with the island’s isolation, playing tricks on her.

She heard a chair scrape downstairs. Emelie sat up, holding her breath. The old woman’s words rang in her ears, the words that she’d managed to push aside during the past months. She didn’t want to go downstairs, didn’t want to know what she might find there, and what had been here in the room, stroking her cheek.

Shaking, she pulled the covers over her head, hiding like a child from unknown terrors. There she lay, wide awake, until dawn came. But she heard no more sounds.

7

‘What do you make of all this?’ asked Paula. Having bought themselves lunch at the Konsum supermarket, she and Gösta had now sat down to eat in the station’s kitchen.

‘It’s certainly a bit odd,’ said Gösta, taking another bite of his fish gratin. ‘Nobody seems to know anything about Sverin’s personal life. And yet everyone has a high opinion of him, telling us that he was a very open and sociable person. It doesn’t make sense to me.’

‘I feel the same way. How can anyone keep everything except his work so secret? Something was bound to come out over coffee or lunch, don’t you think?’

‘Well, you weren’t exactly forthcoming about your own life in the beginning.’

Paula blushed. ‘I see your point. And I suppose that’s exactly what I’m getting at. I kept silent because there was something I didn’t want people to know. I had no idea how all of you would react if you heard that I was living with a woman. So the question is: What was Mats Sverin trying to hide?’

‘That’s what we have to find out.’

Paula felt something brush against her leg. Ernst had smelled the food and was now sitting at her feet, hoping for a handout.

‘I’m sorry, fella. I’m the wrong person to beg from. All I’ve got here is salad.’

Ernst didn’t budge but sat gazing up at her with a pleading look. Paula realized that she’d have to show him what she was eating. She removed a piece of lettuce from the plastic bowl and held it out to him. His tail thumped eagerly against the floor, but after sniffing at the lettuce he looked up at her with disappointment and turned away. Then he went over to Gösta, who reached for a biscuit and discreetly slipped it to the dog.

‘You’re not doing him any favours, you know,’ said Paula. ‘He’ll get fat, and it might even make him ill if you and Bertil don’t stop feeding him treats like that. If it weren’t for Mamma taking him out for long walks, that dog would have died long ago.’

‘I know. But when he gives me that look, I can’t …’