The Lost Boy

‘Sure, that would be nice. Where have you put that little man of yours? How old is he now?’

She gave him an enquiring look.

‘Mamma and Pappa have kept me up-to-date,’ he said with a smile.

‘He’s five. And he’s already asleep.’

‘Ah.’ He sounded disappointed, and that warmed her heart. It was important to her. She had often wondered what things would have been like if she’d had Sam with Matte instead of with Fredrik. Only in that case, he wouldn’t have been Sam but some other child. And that was impossible to imagine.

She was glad that Sam was asleep. She didn’t want Matte to see him the way he was now. But as soon as he was feeling better, she would introduce Matte to her little boy, whose brown eyes were always so filled with mischief. If only the mischief would return, then all three of them could spend time together. She looked forward to that.

They sat in silence for a while, sipping the hot tea. It was odd to feel like strangers, to know that they had let the passing of time bring them to this state. Then they started talking. It wasn’t easy, because they were not the same people they used to be. Slowly they fell into a familiar rhythm that had been theirs alone, and they were able to strip away all that the years had placed between them.

When she took his hand and led him upstairs, it felt as if everything was as it should be. Afterwards, she fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her and his breath in her ear. Outside she could hear the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.

Vivianne spread a blanket over Erling. The sleeping pill had knocked him out, as usual. He’d started to wonder why he fell asleep on the sofa every evening, and she knew that she had to be careful. But she could no longer stand lying next to him, feeling his body touching hers. She couldn’t do it.

She went into the kitchen and tossed the shrimp shells into the rubbish. Then she rinsed off the plates and put them in the dishwasher. There was a little wine left, so she poured it into a fresh glass and went back to the TV room.

It was so close now, and she was beginning to get nervous. Over the past few days it had seemed as if the fiction they had so carefully constructed might collapse. Only one small part had to shift for the whole thing to come tumbling down. She knew that. When she was younger, she’d found a certain perverse enjoyment in taking risks. She had loved the feeling of teetering on the edge of danger. Not any more. It was as if the older she got, the stronger her yearning for security became, the desire to lean back and not have to think. And she was sure that Anders felt the same way. They were so alike and knew what the other one was thinking without saying a word out loud. It had always been that way.

Vivianne lifted the glass to her lips but paused for a moment when she smelled the wine. The scent brought back memories of events that she had sworn to forget. It was all so long ago. She had been a different person, someone she could never be again, not under any circumstances. She was Vivianne now.

She knew that she needed Anders to keep her from falling again, sliding down into that dark hole of memories that made her feel sullied and small.

Giving one last glance at Erling lying on the sofa, she grabbed her jacket and went out. He was sleeping soundly. He wouldn’t miss her.

FJÄLLBACKA 1870 (#ulink_755b8c03-d2d6-55a2-9a61-fc3d03bb707d)

When Karl proposed to her, Emelie was in seventh heaven. She could never have imagined that such a thing would actually happen, even though she’d dreamed about it. During the five years that she’d worked as a maid on his parents’ farm, she had often fallen asleep with the image of Karl’s face in her thoughts. But he was far beyond her reach, and she knew it. Edith’s sharp rebukes had also chased away the last of her dreams. The farmer’s son was not about to marry the maid, not even if she was in the family way.

Karl had never touched her. He had hardly spoken to her the few times he’d had free from the lightship and had come home to visit. He had merely treated her politely, stepping out of her way if she needed to get past. At the most he had asked after her health but had never given any sign that he felt the same as she did. Edith had called her a fool, telling her to push those thoughts out of her mind and stop being such a dreamer.

But dreams could come true, and prayers could be answered. One day he had appeared and asked to speak with her. She was frightened, thinking that she’d done something stupid and that he was going to tell her to pack up her belongings and leave the farm. Instead, he had stared at the floor. A lock of his dark hair fell over his eyes, and she had to restrain herself from reaching out to brush it back. Stammering, he had asked whether she might consider entering into marriage with him. She couldn’t believe her ears. She found herself looking him up and down to see whether he was joking. But he went on speaking, telling her that he wanted her to be his wife, and they could be married the very next day. His parents and the pastor had already been informed, so if she accepted his proposal, the whole thing could be arranged at once.

She hesitated for a moment but then whispered ‘Yes.’ Karl had bowed and thanked her as he backed out of the room. She sat there for a long time, feeling the warmth spread through her chest. She offered up her thanks to God, who had heard the prayers she had silently repeated every night. Then she rushed out to find Edith.

But Edith hadn’t reacted as she had hoped, with surprise and perhaps a little envy. Instead, she had drawn her dark brows together in a frown as she shook her head and told Emelie that she needed to be careful. Edith had heard strange conversations, voices that rose and fell behind closed doors, ever since Karl had come home from the lightship. He had arrived unexpectedly. At least no one who worked on the farm had been given any forewarning that the youngest son was on his way home. And that was unusual, Edith had said. But Emelie wasn’t listening. Interpreting her friend’s words as a sign that she was jealous of the happiness that awaited her, she had resolutely turned her back on Edith and refused to speak to her again. She didn’t want to hear anything about such stupid talk and gossip. She was going to marry Karl.

A week had passed since then, and they had spent one day and one night in their new house. Emelie found herself walking around humming. It was wonderful to have her own home. Of course it was small, but it was lovely in its simplicity, and she had busily swept and cleaned since the day they arrived. The whole place now sparkled and smelled so of fragrant soap. She and Karl hadn’t spent much time together yet, but there would be plenty of opportunities for that from now on. He had a lot to do, putting everything in order. Julian, who was the assistant lighthouse keeper, had now arrived as well, and on the first night he and Karl had taken turns in the lighthouse.

She wasn’t sure what she thought about sharing the island with this man. Julian had hardly spoken to her since he came ashore on Gråskär. Mostly he just stared at her, giving her a look that she didn’t really care for. But it was probably because he was shy. It couldn’t be easy to be suddenly living in such close quarters with a stranger. As she understood it, he knew Karl from their time together on the lightship, but it was going to take a while for him to get to know her. And if there was one thing they had in abundance out here, it was time. Emelie continued pottering about the kitchen. She wasn’t going to give Karl any reason to regret taking her as his wife.

3 (#ulink_682302df-10dd-53c2-beec-07a8ece9c592)

Nathalie reached out her hand for him, just as she had always done back then. It had felt as if only a day had passed since they last lay together in this bed. But they were grown-ups now. His body was more angular and hairy, with scars that hadn’t existed before, both inside and out. She had lain for a long time with her head resting on his chest, running her finger along the shapes of those scars. She wanted to ask him about them, but in her heart she knew that things were still too fragile to risk enquiring about what had happened during the intervening years.

Now the other side of the bed was empty. Her mouth was dry, and she felt exhausted. Lonely. She ran her hand over the sheet and pillow, but Matte was gone. It felt as if she’d discovered that she’d lost part of her own body during the night. Then she felt a spark of hope. Maybe he was downstairs. She held her breath and listened but didn’t hear a sound. Wrapping the blanket around her, Nathalie set her feet on the worn floorboards. Cautiously she tiptoed over to the window that faced the dock and looked out. His boat was gone. He’d left without saying goodbye. She slid down along the wall and felt the onset of a headache. She needed to drink something.

Slowly she got dressed. It felt as though she hadn’t slept a wink all night, even though she knew that she had. She had fallen asleep in his arms and slept more soundly than she had in a very long time. And yet her head was pounding.

It was quiet downstairs. She looked in on Sam and found him awake but lying in bed and not making a sound. Without a word, she picked him up and carried him to the kitchen table. She stroked his hair before putting water on the stove to make coffee. Then she got herself a drink. She was so thirsty. She downed two big glasses of water before the dry feeling in her throat was gone. Nathalie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The fatigue was greater, more noticeable, now that her thirst was quenched. However Sam needed food, and she did too. She boiled some eggs, made herself an open-face sandwich, and fixed oatmeal for Sam, the whole time moving as if on automatic.

Then she cast a surreptitious glance at the drawer out in the hall. She didn’t have much left. It was important to ration herself. But the exhaustion she felt and the memory of the solitary boat at the dock prompted her to take the few steps into the hall and pull out the bottom drawer of the bureau. Eagerly she thrust her hands underneath the clothing, yet her fingers didn’t find what they were looking for. She searched again, and then pulled all of the clothes out of the drawer. Nothing. Maybe this wasn’t the right drawer. She pulled out the two other drawers and emptied the contents on to the floor. Nothing. Panic washed over her, and suddenly she understood why her hand had found only an empty bed when she woke up. Now she realized why Matte was gone, and why he hadn’t said goodbye.

She collapsed on to the floor and curled up in a foetal position, hugging her knees. In the kitchen she could hear the water boiling over.

‘Leave the boy alone.’ Gunnar didn’t look up from reading Bohusläningen when he repeated the same thing he’d been saying all day.

‘But maybe he’d like to come over for dinner today. Or tomorrow, since it’s Sunday. Don’t you think so?’ Signe insisted.

Gunnar sighed from behind his newspaper. ‘I’m sure he has other things to do at the weekend. He’s a grown man. If he wants to come over, he’ll probably call or drop by. You can’t keep hounding him like this. He was just here for dinner.’

‘I think I’ll give him a quick call anyway. To hear how he’s doing.’ Signe reached for the phone, but Gunnar leaned forward to stop her.

‘Let him be,’ he said sternly.

Signe drew back her hand. Her whole body was aching to ring Matte’s mobile, to hear his voice and make sure that everything was fine. After the beating she had become more concerned than ever. The incident had confirmed what she’d always known – that the world was a dangerous place for Matte.

Logically she knew that she needed to take a step back. But what good was that when everything inside of her screamed that she had to protect him? He was grown up now. She realized that. Still she couldn’t stop worrying.

Signe slipped out to the hall to use the phone there. When she heard Matte’s recorded message on his voicemail, she put down the receiver. Why wasn’t he answering his phone?

‘I don’t know what to do.’

Erica slumped in her chair. They had a rare moment of peace in the midst of the chaos. All three children were asleep, so she and Patrik could sit at the kitchen table together, eating hot sandwiches and talking without being constantly interrupted. But Erica was having a hard time enjoying the moment. She couldn’t stop thinking about Anna.

‘There’s really not much you can do except make yourself available when she needs you. And she does have Dan, after all.’ Patrik reached across the table to put his hand on Erica’s.

‘What if she hates me?’ she said faintly, on the verge of tears.

‘Why would she hate you?’

‘Because I have two babies and she has none.’

‘But that’s not your fault. It’s just … I don’t know really what to call it. Fate, maybe.’ Patrik stroked her hand.

‘Fate?’ Erica gave him a dubious look. ‘Anna has suffered enough at the hands of fate. She was finally starting to be happy, and she and I were getting so close. But now … She’s going to hate me. I know she is.’

‘How did it go yesterday when you went to see her?’

They’d both been so busy that they hadn’t had a chance to talk until now. The candle that Patrik had lit began fluttering so that Erica’s face was alternately illuminated and in shadow.

‘She was asleep. I sat with her for a while. She looked so small.’

‘What about Dan?’

‘He seemed in despair. He’s carrying a heavy load. I can tell, even though he pretends that everything is okay. Emma and Adrian are asking a lot of questions. And he told me that he doesn’t know what to say to them.’