FJÄLLBACKA 1920
The girl cried constantly, day and night, and even if Dagmar put her hands over her ears and roared, she couldn’t drown out the sound. All she heard was the child screaming and the neighbours pounding on the wall.
This was not how it was supposed to be. She could still feel his hands on her body, see his eyes as she lay naked in bed beside him. She was convinced that her feelings had been returned, so something must have happened to him. Otherwise he would not have left her to this life of poverty and degradation. Maybe he’d been forced to return to Germany. No doubt they needed him there. He was a hero who had dutifully responded when summoned by his homeland, regardless of the heartbreak he must endure at leaving her behind.
Before she realized that she was with child, she had searched for him, using every means possible. She’d written letters to the German legation in Stockholm and asked everyone she met whether they knew of the war hero Hermann Göring and what had happened to him. When he found out that she had given birth to his child, he was bound to return. No matter how important his work in Germany, he would drop everything to rescue her and Laura. He would never allow her to live in such misery, among these loathsome people who looked down on her and refused to believe her story when she told them who Laura’s father was. They would be surprised when Hermann stood outside her door, so handsome in his pilot’s uniform, holding his arms open wide and with a fancy automobile waiting.
The child cried louder and louder in her cradle, and Dagmar felt anger surge inside of her. She had no peace, not even for a few minutes. The baby was wilfully doing this, that was clear from the expression on her face. As tiny as she was, she displayed the same scorn for Dagmar as everyone else did. Dagmar hated them all. Let them burn in hell, every single gossip-monger and every lecherous bastard who, in spite of their jeers, came to her in the night, paying her a pittance to stick it inside her. They would lie on top of her, groaning and rooting around – she seemed to be good enough for that.
Dagmar threw off the blanket and went into the cramped kitchen. Every surface was covered with dirty dishes, and a fetid odour rose up from the rotting scraps of leftover food. She opened the door to the pantry. It was empty except for a bottle of rubbing alcohol that a chemist had given her. She picked it up and took it back to bed with her. The child was still crying, and the neighbours were again pounding on the wall, but Dagmar didn’t care. She coaxed the cork out, used the sleeve of her nightgown to wipe off the mouth of the bottle, and then took a good swig. If she drank enough, all the persistent sounds around her would disappear.
Chapter Nine
With a sense of anticipation, Josef opened the door to Sebastian’s work room. On the desk lay the drawings for the site where he hoped the museum would stand in the not too distant future.
‘Congratulations!’ said Sebastian, coming forward to greet him. ‘The local council has agreed to support the project.’ He slapped Josef on the back.
‘Good,’ said Josef. He really hadn’t expected anything else. How could they say no to such an amazing opportunity? ‘When can we make a start?’
‘Take it easy. I don’t think you realize how much work we’ve got ahead of us. We have to begin producing the peace symbols, plan the construction, draw up a budget. Above all, we have to raise plenty of cash.’
‘But the widow Grünewald is giving us the land, and we’ve had lots of donations. And since you’re the contractor, aren’t you the one who decides when work gets under way?’
Sebastian laughed. ‘Just because it’s my company, it doesn’t mean we can build it for free. I have to pay the workers’ wages, and we need to buy materials. This is going to be an expensive project.’ He tapped his finger on the drawings. ‘I’ll have to bring in subcontractors, and they won’t work for nothing. Not like me.’
Josef sighed and sat down on a chair. To say he was sceptical about Sebastian’s motives would be putting it mildly.
‘We’ll start with the granite,’ said Sebastian, propping his feet on the desk. ‘I’ve drawn up a few cool sketches of how the peace symbols could look. Then we need to produce some clever marketing materials and put together a good package, and then we can start selling the whole damn thing.’ He grinned when he saw Josef’s expression.
‘Go ahead and laugh. For you, it’s all about money. Don’t you understand the symbolic value of this? The granite was supposed to have been a part of the Third Reich, but instead it’s going to be a testimony to the Nazis’ defeat and the fact that the forces of good were victorious. We can make something out of that, and by extension create this-’ Josef pointed at the drawings. He was so angry that he was practically shaking.
Sebastian’s grin stretched even wider. He threw out his hands.
‘Nobody’s forcing you to work with me. We can tear up our agreement right here and now, and you’re free to go to anybody you like.’
The thought was tempting, and for a moment Josef considered doing just that. Then he slumped on his chair. He needed to complete this project. Up until now he’d wasted his life. He had nothing to show to the world, nothing that would honour the memory of his parents.
‘You know very well that you’re the only one I can turn to,’ he said at last.
‘And we’re going to stick together.’ Sebastian took his feet down from the desk and leaned forward. ‘We’ve known each other for a long time. We’re brothers, and you understand how I am. I always want to help out a brother.’
‘Sure, we’re going to stick together,’ said Josef. He gave Sebastian a searching look. ‘Did you hear that Leon is back?’
‘I heard a vague rumour. Imagine seeing him here again. And Ia. I never thought that would happen.’
‘Apparently they’ve bought a house that was for sale above Brandparken.’
‘They’ve got the cash, so why not? By the way, maybe Leon would like to invest. Have you asked him?’
Josef shook his head. He’d do anything to push forward the work on the museum. Anything except approaching Leon.
‘I saw Percy yesterday,’ said Sebastian laconically.
‘How’s he doing?’ Josef was happy to change the subject. ‘Does he still own the manor?’
‘Yes, he’s lucky that Fygelsta is an entailed estate. If he had to share the inheritance with his siblings, he’d have been broke long ago. But it sounds as though his funds have run out for good, and that’s why he contacted me. To ask for a little temporary help, as he put it.’ Sebastian sketched quote marks in the air. ‘Evidently the tax authorities are after him, and they’re not the sort that you can charm with noble ancestors and a fancy name.’
‘Are you going to help him out?’
‘Don’t look so worried. I haven’t decided yet. But as I said, I always like to help a brother, and Percy is my brother just as much as you are. Right?’
‘Of course,’ said Josef, gazing out of the window at the water. They were brothers for all eternity, united by darkness. His eyes returned to the drawings. The dark would be driven away by light. He would do it for his father’s sake, and his own.
‘What’s going on with Martin?’ Patrik was standing in the doorway to Annika’s office. He didn’t like to pry, but it was obvious something was wrong. It was making him uneasy.