The Drowning (31 page)

‘Come on, you have to help out a little!’ Erica was drenched in sweat. Maja had fought against every garment, from knickers to zip-suit, as her mother tried to get her dressed. By now she was bright red in the face and crying as Erica tried to put mittens on her hands.

‘It’s cold outside. You have to wear mittens,’ she said, even though no amount of verbal persuasion had done any good this morning.

Erica was on the verge of tears herself. She was feeling guilty about all the scolding and arguing, and she would have liked nothing better than to take off Maja’s outdoor clothes and let her stay home from the day-care centre. Then the two of them could spend a cosy day together. But she knew that wasn’t a good idea. She didn’t have the energy to take care of Maja for a whole day on her own, and besides, things would be even worse tomorrow if she gave in right now. If this was what Patrik went through every morning, she could understand why he was looking so worn-out.

With an effort she hauled herself up from a seated position and without further discussion she took her daughter by the hand and led her to the door. She stuffed the mittens in her pocket. Maybe things would be better by the time they got to the day-care centre; at least she hoped that the teachers would have greater success than she’d had.

On their way out to the car, Maja dug in her heels and refused to budge.

‘Come on now, Maja. I can’t carry you.’ Erica took a tighter grip, with the result that Maja toppled over and started to sob. And now Erica was crying too. If anyone had seen her at that moment, they would have phoned the social welfare authorities at once.

Slowly she squatted down, trying to ignore the pinching and squeezing of her intestines. She helped Maja get up and said in a gentler voice:

‘I’m sorry that Mamma was being so stupid. Would you like a hug?’

Maja usually never turned down an opportunity to cuddle, but now she just glared at Erica and cried even louder. She sounded like a fog-horn.

‘Now, now, sweetie,’ said Erica, patting Maja’s cheek. After a few minutes she began to calm down, and the wailing gave way to sniffling. Erica made another attempt:

‘Won’t you give Mamma a hug?’

Maja hesitated for a moment, but then allowed Erica to hug her. She burrowed her face against her mother’s throat, and Erica felt herself getting soaked with snot and tears.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you fall. Did you hurt yourself?’

‘Um-hmm,’ snuffled Maja, looking pitiful.

‘Shall I blow on it?’ asked Erica. That usually did the trick.

Maja nodded.

‘Where should I blow? Where does it hurt?’

Maja thought for a moment and then started pointing at every part of her body that she could reach. Erica blew on them all and then brushed the snow off Maja’s red zip-suit.

‘Don’t you think your friends are waiting for you at the day-care centre?’ said Erica. And then she played her trump card: ‘I’ll bet Ture is there, hoping to see you soon.’

Maja stopped sniffling. Ture was her great love. He was three months older, with more energy than most kids, and a fondness for Maja that matched her feelings for him.

Erica held her breath. Then Maja suddenly smiled. ‘Go see Ture.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Erica. ‘We’re going to go see Ture. And we’d better hurry up or else Ture might get a job in some foreign country or something like that.’

Maja gave her mother a puzzled look, and Erica couldn’t help laughing.

‘Don’t pay any attention to your silly mamma. Now let’s go see Ture.’

15

He was ten years old when everything changed. He had actually adapted quite well by that time. He wasn’t happy, not the way he thought he would be when he saw his beautiful mother for the first time, or the way he had been before Alice started growing inside of her stomach. But he wasn’t unhappy either. He had a place in life, able to dream himself far away through the world of books, and he was content with that. And the fat on his body protected him; it was an armour against what was chafing inside.

Alice loved him as much as always. She followed him like a shadow but didn’t say much, which suited him just fine. If he needed anything, she was right there. If he was thirsty, she would bring him some water; if he wanted something to eat, she would slip into the pantry and fetch the pastries that Mother had hidden away.

Occasionally Father would still have that strange look in his eyes, but he no longer kept watch over him. Alice was big now. She was five years old, and she had finally learned to walk and talk. But she looked like other children only if she stood still and didn’t speak. Then she looked so sweet that people would stop and stare at her, just as they had done when she was little and sat in the pushchair. If she moved or said something, a look of pity would appear on their faces as they shook their heads.

The doctor had said that she would never be right. Of course he wasn’t allowed to go to the doctor appointments. He was never allowed to go with them anywhere, but he hadn’t forgotten how to creep about like an Indian brave. He moved through the house without making a sound, and he was always listening. He heard their discussions and knew everything that was said about Alice. It was mostly Mother who talked. She was the one who took Alice to all the doctor appointments, trying to find some new treatment, a new method or new type of exercise that might help Alice and make her movements, her speech, and her abilities better match the way she looked.

No one ever talked about him. That was also something he learned by eavesdropping. It was as if he didn’t exist; he merely took up space. But he had learned to live with that. The few times that he felt hurt, he would think about the smell and what was now starting to seem more and more like an evil fairy tale. A distant memory. That was enough to enable him to live with being invisible to everyone except Alice. Now that he had made her be nice.

A phone call changed everything. The Old Bitch had died, and her house now belonged to Mother. The house in Fjällbacka. They hadn’t been there since Alice was born, not since that summer in the caravan when he had lost everything. Now they were going to move there. Mother was the one who made the decision. Father tried to object, but as usual nobody listened to him.

Alice didn’t like change. She wanted everything to always remain the same, the same things every day, the same routines. So when all of her possessions were packed up and they were sitting in the car with Father behind the wheel, Alice turned around and pressed her nose against the back window, peering at the house until it was lost from sight. Then she turned around to face forward again, moving close to him. She laid her cheek on his shoulder, and for a moment he considered consoling her, giving her a little pat on the head or taking her hand. But he didn’t do it.

She leaned against him all the way to Fjällbacka.

‘You certainly embarrassed me yesterday,’ said Erik. He was standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom, trying to knot his tie.

Louise didn’t respond. She merely turned her back to him, rolling over on to her side.

‘Did you hear what I just said?’ He raised his voice a bit, but not enough so the girls could hear him from their rooms across the hall.

‘I heard you,’ she said in a low voice.

‘Don’t do that again. Ever! It’s one thing for you to behave like a drunk here at home in the daytime. As long as you can stay on your feet when the girls are around, I don’t care what else you do. But I bloody well won’t have you coming over to the office.’

No answer. It annoyed him that she offered no defence. He preferred her caustic remarks to this silence.

‘You disgust me. Do you know that?’ The knot of his tie ended up too far down, and he swore as he tore it apart to try again. He cast a glance at Louise. She was still lying on the bed with her back turned, but now he saw that her shoulders were shaking. Damn it. This morning was just getting better and better. He despised her hangovers, which were always accompanied by tears and self-pity.

‘Stop that. You need to pull yourself together.’ He could feel how the same old admonitions, repeated over and over, were starting to wear out his patience.

‘Are you still seeing Cecilia?’ Her voice was muffled by the pillow. Then she turned over to face him to hear his answer.

Erik looked at her with distaste. Without make-up and without the disguise of expensive clothes, she looked ghastly.

She repeated her question. ‘Are you still seeing her? Are you fucking her?’

So she knew. That was more than he’d expected from her.

‘No.’ He thought about the last conversation that he’d had with Cecilia. He didn’t want to talk about it.

‘Why not? Are you already tired of her?’ Louise had taken hold of the topic like a pit bull.

‘Let’s just drop it!’

There was no sound from the girls’ rooms, and he hoped that they hadn’t heard. He realized that he must have been shouting. But he didn’t want to think about Cecilia or the child that he was going to be forced to support in secret.

‘I don’t want to talk about her,’ he said in a calmer tone of voice as he finally got his tie knotted.

Louise was staring at him, her mouth agape. She looked old. Tears had collected at the corners of her eyes. Her lower lip was quivering as she kept looking at him without saying a word.

‘I’m going to the office now. Get your arse out of bed and make sure the girls get to school on time. If you can manage that.’ He gave her a cold stare and then turned away. Maybe it would be worth the money to be rid of her after all. There were plenty of women who would be overjoyed to accept what he had to offer. She would be easy to replace.

‘Do you think he’s in any shape to talk to us?’ Martin asked Gösta. They were driving out to Kenneth’s house, even though neither of them really wanted to disturb him so soon after his wife’s death.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Gösta, his voice clearly indicating that he didn’t want to talk about it. Both of them fell silent.

After a while Gösta asked, ‘So how’s it going with the little girl?’

‘Great!’ Martin’s face lit up. After a long series of un successful relationships, he had almost given up hope of ever having a family of his own. But Pia had changed all that, and in the fall she’d given birth to a baby girl. His bachelor life now seemed like a distant and not particularly pleasant dream.

Silence again. Gösta drummed his fingers on the steering wheel but stopped after Martin gave him an annoyed look.

Both of them jumped when Martin’s mobile rang. When Martin answered, his expression grew more and more sombre.

‘Change of plan,’ said Martin as he ended the call.

‘What do you mean? What’s going on?’

‘That was Patrik. Something has happened over at Christian Thydell’s house. He phoned the station and was practically incoherent. But it’s something to do with his kids.’

‘Bloody hell.’ Gösta stomped on the gas pedal. ‘Hold on,’ he told Martin and drove even faster. He could feel his stomach starting to clench up. He’d always had a hard time dealing with cases involving children. And it hadn’t got any easier over the years. ‘Couldn’t Patrik tell you anything more?’

‘No,’ said Martin. ‘Christian was in such a state that Patrik couldn’t get a sensible word out of him. He and Paula are also on their way, but we’ll get there first. Patrik
said not to wait for them.’ Martin was looking pale too. It was bad enough to arrive at a crime scene if they were prepared for what they were going to see. But right now they had no idea what was in store for them.

When they drove up in front of the Thydell house, they didn’t bother to park the car properly. Gösta brought it to a skidding halt, and then they both jumped out. No one answered when they rang the bell, so they opened the door.

‘Hello! Anyone home?’

They heard sounds coming from overhead, so they dashed upstairs.

‘Hello? It’s the police.’ They shouted again, but there was still no answer. From one of the rooms they heard sobs and the high-pitched screams of a child interspersed with the sound of splashing water.

Gösta took a deep breath and looked inside. Sanna was sitting on the bathroom floor, crying so hard that her whole body shook. In the bathtub sat the two little boys. The water was a faint pink colour, and Sanna was vigorously scrubbing their small bodies.

‘What happened? Are they hurt?’ Gösta stared at the children in the tub.

Sanna turned around, gave them a hasty look, and then turned back to her sons.

‘Are they hurt, Sanna? Should we ring for an ambulance?’ Gösta went over to her, squatted down, and put his hand on her shoulder. But Sanna didn’t reply. She just kept on scrubbing, without much result. The red wasn’t coming off. In fact, it just seemed to be spreading.

Gösta took a closer look at the boys and felt his pulse start to slow down. The red colour wasn’t blood.

‘Who did this?’

Sanna sobbed as she used the back of her hand to wipe away the drops of pink water that had sprayed her face.