Fire (50 page)

Ida’s panic is unmistakable. She is fumbling for the silver heart that isn’t there.

Minoo, too, is scared half to death. But she mustn’t allow fear to take over.

‘I’m sure we’ll be okay,’ she says. ‘The guardians are on our side. They want what’s best for us. Matilda said they would help us with the trial, remember.’

She meets Ida’s eyes. And looks into
her own
eyes. It all spins round and round inside her head.

‘But how is changing about supposed to help us?’ Ida asks.

‘Don’t know,’ Minoo says. ‘Not the faintest idea. But there will be a plan behind it all. We have to trust them.’

She shifts position to stand in a different way and happens to touch a bruise that seems to cover most of Linnéa’s thigh.

‘Minoo, you can’t hear me, can you?’

Minoo looks up at Vanessa and that sets off another dizzying spin. Vanessa’s eyes, but recognisably expressing Linnéa’s mind at the same time.

‘I’m trying to send you my thoughts just now. It doesn’t work, does it?’

‘No, it doesn’t. I haven’t picked up a thing.’

‘So while I’m in Vanessa’s body my magic is “out of order”?’

‘Do you think that’s the same for all of us?’ Anna-Karin asks.

Minoo shuts her eyes and tries to release the black smoke. No effect. She can’t locate that catch inside her. She feels totally … ordinary. Unmagical.

She opens her eyes again and looks searchingly at the others.

‘It’s like some kind of short circuit,’ Vanessa says.

‘I hope the guardians know what they’re doing, because I can’t see how we can cope with this,’ Linnéa says. ‘I don’t just mean the trial. Look, we’ll have to lead each other’s
lives
now. Minoo, congrats! Now you’re in my fantastic life.’

‘We’d better swap all the information we might need about each other,’ Minoo says. ‘Tell each other about the most important things. Write lists.’

She starts pulling pages out of her notebook and hands them around. But she grasps the true significance of this for the first time when she sees her own hand take a piece of paper. She’ll have to tell Ida
everything
about herself. Her habits and routines, all the little secrets that add up to a person’s private life.

Anna-Karin vaguely remembers that there’s an old saying about how you learn to know your enemy by walking in his shoes.

So far, it has been surprisingly satisfying to be in Ida’s shoes. To be in her body, generally.

Anna-Karin takes a few tentative running steps as she walks along the road through the posh residential district. And it feels as if she’s flying. Her body is light and strong, ready to keep running for ages.

After a few blocks she sees Ida’s home and walks the last bit up to the gate. She listens to her own breathing. Even that seems unfamiliar.

How many times has she wondered about what’s going on inside that house? If there are any dark secrets hidden behind these green walls, secrets which might help to explain the mystery that is Ida Holmström?

Anna-Karin stops by the front door. She has forgotten which of the keys on the ring she should use. While trying them out, she runs through what she remembers of the things on Ida’s list. Her father’s name is Anders, her mother is Carina and the little kids are Rasmus and Lotta. Ida’s room is nearest the top of the stairs. Her toothbrush is red. She always uses a special range of skincare products, which Anna-Karin can’t pronounce the name of, and she always sleeps
with a bra on to avoid droopy breasts when she is older.

Anna-Karin finds the door key at last and steps inside the hall. She hears voices and the clatter of cutlery from somewhere inside the house.

A woman’s voice calls out.

‘Ida?’

When Anna-Karin bends to pull her boots off, there is nothing in the way. As she straightens up, she marvels again at how different Ida’s body feels. So much more … obedient.

Her own body, on the other hand, is more like an appendage to her head. A shapeless bulk that is essential to her when she needs to move from point A to point B. An object that is best kept hidden under layers of clothing.

‘Ida?’ the woman calls again.

‘Yes?’ Anna-Karin replies hesitantly.

It still feels so odd to hear Ida’s voice like this. It sounds deeper than usual.

‘We’ve already eaten. Are you coming?’

Anna-Karin takes a deep breath and walks to the kitchen.

Everything in there is white. Just nudging something might leave dirty fingerprints, she thinks. The overall look is cool and expensive. And the family seated at the kitchen table project the same image.

Anna-Karin has seen Ida’s parents before and always thought them somehow
too
perfect. As if they have just been unpacked from their box. The kids are miniature copies of Ida. Anna-Karin shudders a little as her mind speeds through a montage of classic clips from her nastiest childhood memories. She wonders if Lotta and Rasmus are like their big sister in other ways, too.

Ida’s father looks up and it strikes her how like Erik Forslund he is. A blonde, middle-aged Erik Forslund. She shudders again.

‘Why are you looking at us like that?’ Anders says.

‘Your eyes will pop out of your head,’ Rasmus says and then he and Lotta start to laugh in that exaggerated way kids sometimes do, as if they have to laugh just for the sake of laughing.

‘
Rasmus
,’ Ida’s mother says in an admonishing tone.

‘But her eyes looked just as if they would,’ Rasmus says sulkily. ‘And there are dogs that can have their eyes falling out, honestly.’

Anna-Karin settles down on the free chair at the table. Ida’s mother pushes a large bowl of salad towards her.

‘The fish is keeping warm on the cooker,’ she adds.

Anna-Karin serves herself salad, then goes to pick up the last piece of steamed fish from the pan.

As soon as she starts eating she realises how hungry Ida’s body is. The food is incredibly good, too. When was Anna-Karin last offered home-cooking?

‘How are you?’ Ida’s mother asks.

Anna-Karin swallows a mouthful of fish, looks up and tries out a reply.

‘Fine?’

But that isn’t the right thing to say. She sees that from the wrinkles that appear on Carina Holmström’s normally ever-so-smooth forehead.

‘Right, children. You may leave the table now,’ she says without taking her eyes off Anna-Karin.

Rasmus and Lotta bounce happily off their chairs and charge out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

‘Darling, why haven’t you told us about what’s happened?’ Ida’s mother asks.

Anna-Karin looks at the two concerned parental faces.

If only they were horrible. It would make it so very much easier to understand Ida. So endlessly much easier to
forgive
her.

‘You see, we’ve heard about Erik and that girl,’ Anders says. ‘Terrible.’

‘Yes, it is. How
can
she go around spreading these tales?’ Carina says. ‘Of course, she must be mentally unstable.’

‘That is no excuse at all,’ the father says and glances at his wife. ‘That kind of person isn’t helped by being indulged all the time.’

‘No, of course. That’s true,’ Carina says. ‘You must be utterly distraught, Ida.’

They both look at Anna-Karin, waiting for an answer.

‘Umm,’ is all she can think of.

‘The thing is, Erik is such a kind young man,’ Carina says. ‘Robin is different, of course. It isn’t hard to see why the boy might be a bit difficult – his mother has her own problems to cope with. But Erik! How could anyone even think of it?’

‘Erik is a born leader, just like Ida,’ Anders says. ‘Some people will always be envious of leaders, that’s par for the course.’

Anna-Karin realises there might be an explanation about why Ida is who she is, after all. She can’t keep quiet any longer.

‘Erik is not kind,’ she says. ‘Actually, neither am I, not all the time.’

‘What
do
you mean?’ Carina asks.

‘Come on, one can’t go through life being kind,’ Anders says at the same time. ‘Cows are kind, all the way to the slaughterhouse.’

Anna-Karin feels a mad impulse to moo into his face, but the doorbell rings.

‘I’ll open the door!’ Lotta shouts and comes running downstairs.

‘Who can that be?’ Ida’s mother says and cranes her neck to try and catch a glimpse of the visitor through the window.

‘It’s Erik!’ Lotta yells.

‘Talk of the devil,’ Anders says.

Anna-Karin stands up but forgets about Ida’s muscular legs, pushes too hard and almost falls over backwards.

‘I don’t want to see him,’ she says.

She hears Erik chatting with Lotta in the hall and he sounds convincingly nice. A mother’s dream suitor for her daughter, which makes the whole thing even more terrifying.

Jump. Or we’ll throw you in.

Anna-Karin hurries off towards a doorway that doesn’t open into the hall.

‘Ida! What are you doing?’ Carina calls after her.

Anna-Karin finds herself in the living room. Desperate, she looks around. She hears Erik’s voice from the kitchen, asking for Ida. She doesn’t give herself time to find out what Ida’s parents tell him. She pushes the French windows open, hurries out on to an expanse of decking, closes the doors quietly again and runs across the damp planks in her stockinged feet. Then, down some steps and into the garden.

The ground is wet and cold. Her feet soon become soaked but she hardly notices. She is aiming for the playhouse and runs as fast as she can. Now and then, she glances quickly over her shoulder at the towering bulk of the villa behind her. The living-room light is on and through a window she sees Erik come into the room.

Anna-Karin slips around the corner of the playhouse and presses herself against the wall.

Ida would never hide like this. Anna-Karin, on the other hand, can’t face meeting Erik. He’s always frightened her and now she knows he’s a killer.

If he follows me I’ll climb the fence and run for it, she promises herself. She hears the French windows opening and tenses her whole body, ready for flight.

‘Ida!’ Erik shouts so loud it sends an echo around the garden. ‘Come here!’

She feels sure she’ll hear his footsteps on the decking any moment now. Nothing happens. After a while the doors are pulled close again.

Anna-Karin waits. She crosses her arms over her chest as the cold, raw wind burrows through Ida’s thin cardigan. She wishes she could escape into the fox’s mind but that bond has been cut.

Finally, the front door of the house opens and she hears Erik’s footsteps fade away as he walks along the street.

At last it seems safe to go inside.

Her socks are wet, freezing rags by now and she leaves foot-shaped marks on the white-limed living-room floor. She rips her socks off.

Anders Holmström’s bellowing voice shouts from the kitchen.

‘Ida! Come here at once and explain what you think you’re doing!’

Anna-Karin doesn’t answer him. She runs upstairs, two steps at a time, and slams the door to Ida’s room after her. To her huge relief she sees that there’s a key in the lock.

‘Ida!’ Carina calls and Anna-Karin hears her come upstairs.

The angry knock on the door makes her back away. Carina speaks from just outside.

‘Erik told us you’re
friendly
with that girl. And that she’s a
junkie
! Your dad and I don’t want you to keep that kind of company. Are you listening? Open the door!’

The door handle rattles.

‘We will not tolerate you going around with criminals,’ Carina says.

‘You don’t know Erik! You’ve no idea who he really is!’

Another pull at the door handle. Much harder this time.

‘Have it your own way, then,’ Carina snarls. ‘You’ll have to stay here all evening.’

‘Suits me!’ Anna-Karin screeches. Ida’s voice nearly hurts her ears.

‘What’s your problem? Have you started taking drugs, too? Do you?’

‘Of course I don’t!’

‘You’re too old for this kind of nonsense. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.’

As Carina Holmström walks away, she manages to make the sound of her footsteps spell out her anger.

If only she knew who her darling Erik truly is, Anna-Karin thinks.

But Ida’s mother would never believe the truth if she heard it.

She would simply refuse.

Linnéa drinks some of the tepid tea and observes herself sitting on the other side of the table.

She has wondered so many times about how Vanessa sees her. And now she is literally inside Vanessa’s head and able to look at herself through Vanessa’s eyes.

But, of course, it doesn’t make her any wiser. She is not Vanessa. That is just a trick with smoke and mirrors. Just as it isn’t actually herself she is looking at, but Minoo.

‘Another sandwich, Nessa?’ Jannike Dahl says, ready to hand her the bread basket.

‘No, thank you,’ Linnéa says.

‘It’s been so nice,’ Minoo says. ‘Really lovely tea as well.’

Her polite smile looks totally wrong in Linnéa’s face, but Vanessa’s mother hasn’t a clue, of course.

Linnéa drinks another mouthful and tries to ignore the dog who is sitting on the floor at her feet. Frasse is snuffling
loudly and has angled his head so he can keep his eye on her.

Jannike doesn’t seem to have sensed anything out of the ordinary about her daughter. The dog has, though. And Melvin as well. When Jannike asked ‘Vanessa’ to read him a bedtime story, the kid brother had yelled protestingly at the top of his voice.

‘It’s very kind of you to let me sleep over here tonight,’ Minoo says.

‘Goes without saying,’ Jannike says. ‘I’m really glad to meet Nessa’s friends. And I’ve heard so much about you, Linnéa.’

Linnéa scrutinises her teacup. Tries not to show how happy this makes her.

‘That’s nice,’ Minoo says. ‘Only good things, I hope.’

When she is chatting with Vanessa’s mother, Minoo has this knack of making all her smarmy politeness sound quite natural. She must be used to grown-ups taking her seriously, even liking her.

‘I hope it’s okay with you to share a bed tonight,’ Jannike says.

Linnéa and Minoo exchange a quick glance.