Camilla Lackberg
Buried Angels
The eighth book in the Patrik Hedstrom series, 2014
Translated from the Swedish by Tiina Nunnally
‘If one man can display so much hatred, imagine how much love all of us together could show.’
Chapter One
They had decided to renovate their way out of the grief. Neither of them was sure it was a good plan, but it was the only one they had. The alternative was to lie down and slowly pine away.
Ebba ran the scraper over the outside wall of the house. The paint was coming away easily. It had already started to flake off in big chunks, so all she had to do was help it along. The July sun was so hot that her fringe was sticking to her forehead, which was damp with sweat, and her arm ached because it was the third day in a row she’d carried out this same monotonous, up-and-down motion. But she welcomed the physical pain. The worse it got, the more it muted the ache in her heart, at least for a while.
She turned around and looked at Tobias, who was working on the lawn in front of the house, sawing boards. He seemed to sense that she was watching him, because he glanced up and raised a hand in greeting, as if she were an acquaintance he was meeting on the street. Ebba felt her own hand respond with the same awkward gesture.
More than six months had passed since their life had been shattered, but they still didn’t know how to react to each other. Every night they would lie in the double bed with their backs turned, terrified that some involuntary touch might release something that they wouldn’t know how to handle. It was as if the grief filled them to the point there was no room for any other feelings. No love, no warmth, no empathy.
Guilt, heavy and unexpressed, separated them. Things would have been easier if they could have defined it and worked out where it belonged. But it kept shifting back and forth, changing strength and shape, constantly attacking from new directions.
Ebba turned back to the house and continued scraping at the wall. Under her hands the white paint came off in big pieces, revealing the wooden boards underneath. She stroked the wood with her free hand. This house seemed to have a soul in a way that she’d never noticed anywhere else. The small terraced cottage in Göteborg had been almost new when she and Tobias had bought it together. Back then she had loved the fact that the whole place had shone so brightly, that it was so untouched. Now all of that newness was a thing of the past, and this old house with all its flaws was better suited to her present state. She thought again about the leaky roof, the boiler that regularly needed a good kick to get it started, and the draughty windows that made it impossible to keep a lighted candle on the windowsill. Rain and wind also swept through her soul, mercilessly blowing out the candles that she tried to light.
Maybe her spirit would be able to heal here on Valö. She had no memories from this place, and yet it was as if they knew each other, she and this island. It was just opposite Fjällbacka. If she went down to the dock, she could see the small coastal town spread out across the water. At the base of the steep granite cliff the little white buildings and red boathouses were lined up like a string of beads. The sight was so beautiful that it almost hurt.
Sweat was running down her forehead, stinging her eyes. She wiped her face on her T-shirt and squinted up at the sun. Seagulls were circling overhead. The birds called and shrieked to each other, their cries mixing with the sound of motorboats moving through the strait. She closed her eyes and let the sounds carry her away. Away from herself, away from…
‘How about taking a break to go swimming?’
Tobias’s voice broke through the background noise, startling her. She shook her head in confusion, but then nodded.
‘Sure, let’s do that,’ she said, climbing down from the scaffolding.
Their bathing suits had been hung up to dry in back of the house. Ebba peeled off her sweaty work clothes to put on a bikini.
Tobias was faster, and he waited for her impatiently.
‘Ready?’ he said and then led the way down the path to the beach. The island was quite large and not as barren as many of the smaller islands in the archipelago of Bohuslän. The path was lined by leafy trees and tall grass, and Ebba stomped hard on the ground as she walked along. She had an intense fear of snakes, which had grown worse since she saw a viper basking in the sun a few days ago.
As they started down the slope towards the water, she couldn’t help thinking about how many children’s feet had walked this path over the years. The place was still called the summer camp, even though it hadn’t been a summer camp for children since the 1930s.
‘Watch your step,’ said Tobias, pointing to several tree roots sticking up from the ground.
His concern, which should have warmed her heart, felt almost suffocating, and she made an exaggerated effort to avoid the roots. After another few metres, she felt rough sand under her feet. Waves were lapping the long shoreline, and she tossed her towel on to the beach and walked right into the salty water. Seaweed rubbed against her legs and the sudden cold made her gasp for breath, but she quickly adapted to the chill. Behind her she could hear Tobias calling her name. Pretending not to hear, she kept on going. When the bottom fell away beneath her, she started swimming, and with only a few strokes she reached the bathing platform anchored a short distance from shore.
‘Ebba!’ Tobias shouted from the beach, but she continued to ignore him and grabbed hold of the ladder. She needed some time to herself. If she lay down and closed her eyes, she could pretend that she was shipwrecked out on the wide open sea. Alone. With no need to pay attention to anyone else.
She heard him ploughing through the water, getting closer. The bathing platform rocked as Tobias climbed up, and she squeezed her eyes tighter in order to shut him out a little longer. She wanted to be alone, by herself. Not the way things were now. She and Tobias were both alone, but together. Reluctantly she opened her eyes.
Erica was sitting at the table in the living room, which looked as if a bomb had blown toys all over the room. Cars, dolls, stuffed animals and dress-up clothes were scattered everywhere. Three children, all under the age of four, were the primary reason why the house looked as it did. But now that she had some time to herself without the children, she had, as usual, given priority to her writing instead of tidying up the house.
When she heard the front door open, she glanced up from her computer and caught sight of her husband.
‘Hi. What are you doing here? Weren’t you going over to see Kristina?’
‘Mamma wasn’t home. Typical. I should have called first,’ said Patrik, kicking off his Crocs.
‘Do you really have to wear those things? How can you drive with them on?’ She pointed at the loathsome footwear which, to top it off, were a neon green. Her sister Anna had given them to Patrik as a joke, but now he refused to wear anything else.
Patrik came over to her and gave her a kiss. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said, and then headed for the kitchen. ‘Did the publishing house get hold of you, by the way? It must have been important – they even tried my mobile.’
‘They wanted to know if I could attend the book fair this year, as I promised. I still can’t make up my mind.’
‘Of course you must go. I’ll take care of the kids that weekend. I’ve already made arrangements to take those days off.’
‘Thanks,’ said Erica, but in her heart she was irritated with herself for feeling so grateful to her husband. After all, didn’t she always have to take over when his work called him away at a moment’s notice, or when their weekends, holidays, and evenings were interrupted because his job couldn’t wait? She loved Patrik more than anything, but sometimes it felt like he hardly noticed that she had to bear most of the responsibility for their home and the children. She had a career too, and quite a successful one at that.