Fire (32 page)

‘All forgotten,’ he says, and seems to mean it.

‘I don’t want us to quarrel,’ she says.

‘I don’t either.’

He seems to ponder over something. She waits hopefully.

‘It just that I can’t bear analysing all the time,’ he says eventually. ‘Twisting and turning things until they break.’

Minoo nods. She knows exactly what he means. What he describes is her own speciality.

‘I want to feel good about things again,’ he continues. ‘Get away from churning over the past. Get away from nightmares and all that sodding misery. And I have come to think that the ideas of Positive Engelsfors maybe can help me.’

He looks tentatively at her.

‘And it might make you feel a whole lot better, too. Anyway, Rickard thinks so.’

Minoo stares at him.

‘
Rickard
thinks so? But he doesn’t know me.’

‘I was telling him a few things …’ Gustaf says and quickly looks away. ‘About what we were talking about. Rickard said that it’s hard to get on if you’re surrounded by negative people.’

Minoo laughs, quite joylessly.

‘That would be people like me, right?’

‘I didn’t mean it like that …’ Gustaf says.

Minoo feels her face get hot. Or is it just the warm air around her? She can’t sense any distinction. It is as if the boundaries between herself and the outside world are dissolving.

‘What are you trying to tell me?’ she says. ‘That we shouldn’t be friends any more?’

The words are hard to say. Her vocal cords are tensed to suppress crying.

‘No. No, not at all. All I’m saying is that I want to give the PE ideas an honest chance.’

‘But that means you’d better not be around “negative people”.’

‘Minoo …’

‘Why won’t you say it straight out?’

Gustaf has gone red in the face, too.

‘All I want is some order in my life!’

‘By letting Rickard decide what you’re meant to think and believe and feel? Decide who’s good company for you?’

‘I’m not saying that he’s right, I’m only telling you what he said …’

‘And you had no opinion of your own, as usual? You’re so
weak
.’

She knows she’s overstepping the mark, again. Weakness is precisely what Gustaf has been blaming himself for. For being too much of a coward to ask Rebecka about her problems, which he still believes led her to kill herself.

And yet, Minoo isn’t sure that she can stop herself from going even further. She wants to ask him what he believes that Rebecka would have to say about Rickard’s philosophising. For instance, that you should avoid people who aren’t sufficiently happy and contented, people who face difficulties and feel rotten.

If she pulls Rebecka into all this, she knows she’ll never forgive herself. But if she stays here for one second longer, she knows it will be impossible for her not to. She must leave.

But Gustaf gets there first.

‘I’d better go home now.’

All she can do is nod. If she opens her mouth, the unforgivable words will come flying out and ruin everything.

Gustaf gets up.

‘I didn’t want things to be like this,’ he says before he walks away.

She looks after him until she can’t see him any more. It feels as if he has disappeared out of her life for good.

A moist sound from the canal. Minoo looks that way.

A large bubble is rising to the surface of the water. Then it bursts, with a splash.

Anna-Karin squeezes her mobile in her hand.

She is standing in the small copse on the edge of Dammsjön Lake, while the dusk is spreading over the sky. She ought to go home now, before it gets dark, but moving seems impossible.

She appreciated that Minoo had been trying to tell her about the interrogation in a way that wouldn’t drive her crazy with fear. Considerate, but pointless.

The interrogations have begun. It is really happening now.

She thinks about the money that Nicolaus hid in the mattress, cash that she is now hiding in the case in her wardrobe. What if she just ran away? The others would surely understand …

But the Council would find me, she thinks. They are everywhere in the entire world. I could never hide from them.

She looks out over the still surface of Dammsjön Lake. It reflects the images of the trees on the other side of the lake.

She hasn’t been here for several years. Not since some of the juniors were made to come here to camp overnight. A twenty-four-hour nightmare of nature-quiz walks, sausage grilling and swimming, all in aid of ‘getting to know each other’. Anna-Karin was the only one who didn’t have somebody to share her tent, and she lay awake all night because
Erik and Ida had told her that they would set fire to her sleeping bag after she fell asleep.

The fox-bite part of her hand begins to throb and feel hot. Anna-Karin rubs the scar with the fingers of her other hand and ambles along the shore, looking for plantain leaves.

A loud splash from somewhere in the lake. Anna-Karin looks up.

Thin rings are forming far out and spreading over the water. Perhaps a fish leapt up. That must have been it.

Another splash.

Her eyes search the water. New rings are forming, closer to the shore where she stands.

Anna-Karin begins to back away towards the wood when a slurping noise from the other side of the lake sets up an echo.

Must be the fish at play, she tells herself. Normal, nothing to worry about.

In the middle of the lake, the water begins to move gently, round and round in a circle.

And then the water slowly retreats away from the shoreline and moves towards the centre. Centimetre by centimetre, the wet sandy bottom of the lake is exposed.

Nothing odd about this, she thinks. Nothing weird at all.

She keeps going backwards until she stumbles and almost falls over into a lot of shrubs.

The lake withdraws from the land by a few more centimetres.

Utter stillness.

Only tiny ripples disturb the surface and make the reflected trees tremble.

And then, a horrible slurping noise resounds everywhere.

Anna-Karin doesn’t even dare to look. She turns and runs until she reaches the road. Or track. It is little more than two
wide furrows on either side of a ridge covered in yellowing grass. Around her, the night is drawing in.

She is just within sight of the main road when a shadow steals out in front of her.

Two amber eyes shine in the darkness. They are fixed on her and she stops instantly.

The fox.

Anna-Karin sees a white flash, then herself standing in the middle of the track. The perspective is obliquely from below and she is gigantic.

A new flash. Anna-Karin’s legs fold under her. She goes down on her knees.

When she opens her eyes the fox is standing immediately in front of her.

Their eyes meet.

And, suddenly, Anna-Karin understands.

Through a complex process, a witch can create a connection with an animal.

Adriana’s words, the first time she spoke to the Chosen Ones in her office.

I chose a raven. Or, rather, it chose me.

My familiar can act as my eyes or ears when my own aren’t up to the task.

The fox is Anna-Karin’s familiar.

It has chosen her.

Hesitantly, she holds out her hand. The fox observes her attentively. Then it barks. Sticks its nose out and licks her scar with its rough little tongue.

Anna-Karin lowers her hand.

‘Hello,’ she says.

The fox stares at her.

‘Now what?’ Anna-Karin asks it. ‘I mean, should I do something?’

The fox barks again. Anna-Karin feels a new kind of ache inside her. She longs to run through the forest, to sense moss and dry needles under her paws …

‘This is really strange,’ she says.

She has a feeling that the fox agrees. Then it licks her hand once more and slips away into the forest.

‘See you sometime, I suppose,’ Anna-Karin says wonderingly.

Ida, Julia and Hanna H are standing side by side, leaning on the balustrade around the terrace at the Holmström home. They are gazing at the party-dressed people who throng the garden. Most of the guests are on their second or third drink and the atmosphere is becoming more relaxed and the laughs more boisterous. As the dusk grows darker, the light from coloured lamps in the trees softens people’s features.

Helena and Krister Malmgren have already gone home. But somehow it is as if Helena’s spirit still hovers over the crowd. Positive Engelsfors is
the
topic, running like mercury in and out of the conversations.

… as we’ve been saying for ages, if people would only pull themselves together …

… she must be so strong, not to let something like that break her …

… it’s up to everyone to make a choice …

… you don’t get something for nothing …

… too much feather-bedding for some …

… and ever since, I’ve never had any problems …

… mustn’t let negative people drag you down …

Ida scans the scene until she locates her mum. Every time Ida finds her, she is talking to a new person, laughing, asking interested questions. But she also glances regularly at the table with nibbles to check if any of the dishes need
replenishing. She keeps an eye on Dad to make sure he doesn’t drink too much, and at the same time sees to it that none of the guests is holding an empty glass. Now and then, she slips into the bathroom to freshen her make-up. Ida’s mother is the perfect hostess.

Dad is standing in a corner, next to the large freezer box of beer bottles. While Mum flutters among the guests, Dad is holding court. He is well liked in Engelsfors. So well liked, in fact, that he gets away with a great deal that most others wouldn’t. Everyone knows that he’s a cheerful guy who occasionally takes a glass or two too many.

Lotta stands close to him, pressed against his leg. As always when many adults are around, she sounds more childish than usual. She seems to
act
being a child. But it works a treat. Mum and Dad’s friends always go on about how Lotta is the most charming little girl they’ve ever met. One more plus point on the Holmström family’s social scorecard.

‘Oh, Christ,’ Julia whispers. ‘Here comes that horrid wino.’

Robin’s mother, Åsa Zetterqvist, envelops them in a cloud of alcohol-laden breath and heavy perfume.

‘So, where are you hiding your fiancé, Ida?’ Åsa says.

She obviously hopes that speaking very precisely will make her seem less drunk, but the effect is the exact opposite.

‘He’s gone to get me a drink,’ Ida says.

‘That’s fine, exactly what one needs men for,’ Åsa says and tosses back a mouthful of sparkling white from her frosted glass.

Julia and Hanna H exchange a glance.

‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ Ida asks and smiles.

She despises the old cow, but she can be just as good a hostess as her mum.

‘I’m having a fine time, I really am,’ Åsa replies with lots
of emphasis. ‘Everything here is just as perfect as usual. Even your lawn is a perfect green. Ours looks like an African plain.’

She chortles and Ida notices that Mum is looking their way, with panic in her eyes. Everyone knows that Åsa drinks too much, but it usually isn’t obvious this early in the evening.

‘Your parents have got a fantastic knack for inviting just the right people,’ Åsa goes on. ‘In this kind of company one feels proud of living in Engelsfors.’

She drains her glass and then leans towards Ida.

‘This could be such a fine town if only we got rid of the rotten apples,’ she says and her breath blows warm and moist against Ida’s cheek. ‘I really hope that Helena Malmgren will make everyone see sense. At last, we have somebody who speaks out. People who won’t make a contribution have no business to be here.’

Ida wonders if Helena has actually said anything of the sort. But perhaps everyone is so happy to take her message on board because it can be used to suit yourself.

Åsa raises the empty glass to her lips. When she tips her head back for another shot and only one solitary drop dribbles out of it, she looks crossly at it, as if the lack of drink was the fault of the glass.

Julia and Hanna H giggle. Fortunately Åsa doesn’t seem to notice.

Erik finally arrives and hands her a glass of cranberry juice with slices of lime. She sips it cautiously to check that he hasn’t laced it with vodka. He and Robin have already sneaked off to the bottom of the garden with a stolen bottle several times this evening.

‘Ida …’ he says.

Now she registers the expression on his face for the first time.

Something has gone wrong.

‘A small problem …’ he says. ‘Down by the kids’ den. But it isn’t my fault.’

‘What are you talking about?’

Erik glances discreetly at Åsa and Ida takes the hint.

Something to do with Robin.

And where is Felicia? Ida hasn’t actually seen her for a good half-hour.

‘Wait here,’ she says to Julia and Hanna H.

‘You just toddle off, my little turtle doves,’ says the old soak. ‘Seize the day.’

Ida pulls Erik along into the garden.

‘Hey, relax,’ he says.

She sees Felicia and Robin sitting on the steps to the den.

He has put his arm around her and they are talking intensely. Ida quickly figures out what about.

He has to be tanked up before he’ll even chat to a girl
.

By now, Robin has had a lot to drink. And he and Felicia have obviously been chatting.

‘You promised not to tell,’ she snarls at Erik.

He begins to speak, but Ida holds up her hand.

‘Let me deal with this.’

Rasmus and his mates are playing war on the lawn with small plastic robots. They make sound effects that are meant to be explosions and laser beams. When Ida walks past, her little brother looks up.

‘They’re angry with you, Ida,’ he informs her.

He clearly loves telling her and she detests him with all her heart.

They have almost arrived at the den when Ida sees that Felicia has the empty vodka bottle in her hand. Felicia, who never drinks.

‘You’re such a fucking bitch,’ she croaks when she catches sight of Ida.