Harmless, innocent subjects that couldn’t provoke any accusations. Over time their sentences got longer, and they found more safe topics for conversation. They had started talking about Valö. Tobias was the one who’d suggested that they should move there. But she too had viewed it as an opportunity to leave behind everything that would remind them of a different life. A life that may not have been perfect, but at least it was happy.
As she sat there with her eyes closed and her forehead pressed against the bathroom tiles, for the first time she began to question whether they’d done the right thing. The house was sold, the house where Vincent had lived his whole, brief life. The place where they had changed his nappies; spent nights walking about, holding him in their arms; where he had learned to crawl, walk, and talk. The house was no longer theirs, and she wondered whether they’d actually made a decision or had simply moved away.
And now they were here. In a house where they might not even be safe, and where the entire dining-room floor had been broken apart because her family had been obliterated in there. It was affecting her more than she was willing to admit. When she was growing up she hadn’t devoted much time to speculating about her roots. But she couldn’t go on pushing her past aside. Seeing that dark stain that had been hidden under the floorboards, she had experienced a terrible clarity. This was not some vague enigma, it was all too real. Her mother and father had presumably died on that very spot, and for some strange reason, that seemed more real than the discovery that someone may have been trying to kill her and Tobias. She didn’t know how she was going to handle this reality, living right in the midst of it, but there was nowhere else to go.
‘Ebba?’
She could hear in his voice that if she didn’t answer he would come looking for her. So she lifted her head and called towards the door:
‘I’m almost done!’
She took her time brushing her teeth as she studied herself in the mirror. Tonight she didn’t look away. She stared at this woman with the dead expression, at the mother who had no child. Then she spat into the sink and wiped her mouth on a towel.
‘That took you long enough.’ Tobias was holding a book open, but she noticed that he was on the same page as last night.
She didn’t reply, just lifted the covers and crawled into bed. Tobias put his book down on the bedside table and turned off the lamp. The blinds that they’d put up when they moved in made the room pitch-black, even though it never got completely dark outside.
Ebba lay there motionless, staring up at the ceiling. She felt Tobias’s hand fumbling for hers. She pretended not to notice, but he didn’t withdraw his hand, as he usually did. Instead, it inched towards her thigh, gently moved under her T-shirt to stroke her stomach. She felt the nausea rise in her throat as his hand purposefully continued upward, grazing her breast. The same breast that had given Vincent milk, the same nipples that his tiny mouth had so hungrily suckled.
Bile filled her mouth, and she leaped out of bed, rushing for the bathroom. She barely managed to lift the lid of the toilet before her stomach turned inside out. When she was done, she collapsed weakly on the floor. From the bedroom she could hear that Tobias was crying.
FJÄLLBACKA 1925
Dagmar stared at the newspaper lying on the ground. Laura was tugging at her sleeve, saying over and over ‘Mamma, Mamma,’ but Dagmar paid her no mind. She was so tired of hearing that demanding, whining voice, and the word was repeated so often that she thought it would drive her mad. Slowly she leaned down and picked up the paper. It was late in the afternoon, and she was having trouble seeing clearly, but there was absolutely no doubt. In black type it said: ‘German ace pilot Göring returns to Sweden.’
‘Mamma, Mamma!’ Laura was pulling at her even harder, and Dagmar gave her such a swat that the girl tumbled off the bench and started to cry.
‘Stop your whining!’ snapped Dagmar. She hated that phoney sobbing. The child lacked for nothing. She had a roof over her head, clothes to wear, and she wasn’t starving, although they had little enough at times.
Dagmar returned to the article, haltingly spelling her way through it. Her heart started pounding very fast. He’d come back, he was in Sweden, and now he would be coming to fetch her. Then her eyes fell on a sentence further down: ‘Göring is moving to Sweden with his Swedish wife Carin.’ Dagmar felt her mouth go dry. He’d married somebody else. He’d betrayed her! Fury rushed through her, made worse by Laura’s shrill cries that were causing passers-by to turn and look at them.
‘Shut up!’ She slapped Laura with such force it made her hand sting.
The child fell silent, clutching her fiery red cheek and gazing at her mother, wide-eyed. Then she started sobbing again, louder than ever, as Dagmar felt despair slicing right through her. She fixed her eyes on the newspaper, re-reading the article until the name Carin Göring echoed over and over in her mind. The article didn’t say how long they’d been married, but since she was Swedish, they must have met here in Sweden. Somehow this woman must have tricked Hermann into marrying her. It must be Carin’s fault that Hermann hadn’t come back to get Dagmar, that he couldn’t be with her and their daughter, with his family.
She nodded as she crumpled up the paper and reached for the bottle on the bench beside her. Only a few dregs remained, which surprised her, since the bottle had been full that morning. But she didn’t think anything more about it. She drank what was left, savouring the lovely burning sensation in her throat from the blessed liquor.
The child had stopped howling. She was sitting on the ground, sniffling, with her legs drawn up and her arms wrapped around her knees. No doubt feeling sorry for herself, as usual. Only five years old and already the girl was cunning as a fox. But Dagmar knew what had to be done. It was still possible to put everything right. Once Hermann was reunited with them, he’d soon teach Laura to behave. A father who could rule with a firm hand was exactly what that child needed, because nothing seemed to work, no matter how much Dagmar tried to beat some sense into her.
Dagmar smiled as she sat there on the bench in Brandparken. She’d worked out what was at the root of all their troubles, and now she was going to fix things for herself and for Laura.
Chapter Ten
Gösta’s car pulled into the driveway, and Erica sighed with relief. There had been a risk that Patrik might see him as he left for work.
She opened the door before Gösta could ring the bell. Behind her the children were making so much noise that he probably felt like he was stepping into a wall of sound.
‘Sorry about all the commotion. This place is going to be condemned as a workplace any day now.’ She turned around to stop Noel from chasing a sobbing Anton.
‘Don’t worry. I’m used to Mellberg shouting at us,’ said Gösta, squatting down. ‘Hi, you guys. You certainly look like a couple of rascals.’
Anton and Noel stopped in their tracks, suddenly turning shy, but Maja stepped forward boldly.
‘Hi, old man. My name is Maja.’
‘Maja! We don’t say things like that,’ Erica told her daughter, giving her a stern look.
‘It’s okay.’ Gösta laughed loudly and stood up. ‘Out of the mouths of babes and idiots – that’s how we hear the truth. And I’m definitely an old man. What do you think, Maja?’
She nodded, then glared at her mother triumphantly before heading off. The twins still didn’t dare come forward. Instead, they slowly backed away towards the living room without taking their eyes off Gösta.