Even the church looks different from the way she remembers it. The old green copper roof has been replaced by black metal that makes the building look furious. The Christmas tree outside is smaller than it used to be, the glow of the lamps colder.
On some subconscious level she had stupidly assumed that Vedarp would look exactly the same as in her childhood memories, preserved in amber at the moment she left the village. Life has gone on without her, of course, which makes her feel childishly disappointed.
A sign at the roundabout points left down to the lake, right towards the castle. She chooses right, passing dirty brown Seventies houses that look more familiar. Peter’s family lived in one of them. The village’s only Jehovah’s Witnesses, who would hardly let him build his models because they were afraid he’d become intoxicated from the glue.
She wonders if Peter’s still around, if he’ll come to the funeral the day after tomorrow. The prospect cheers her up a little.
She thinks about the last time they met. The conference room at the hospital. The lawyer her father had flown down from Stockholm, the big, unpleasant policeman with the boxer’s nose sitting opposite them.
OK, kids. So who do you think did it? Who started the fire at the dance hall?
She shakes off the unpleasant memory. Tries to focus on Jack instead. Will she recognise him? Will he recognise her?
Beyond the houses she can just see the sports hall. There’s a sign, and she’s driven past before she registers what it says. She slams on the brakes, checks her mirrors and reverses.
The sign is white with black lettering, and it looks quite new. It is pointing in the direction of the sports hall, the swimming pool and what used to be Vintersjö School. But not anymore.
THE IBEN JENSEN SCHOOL. That’s what it says.
‘Fuck,’ Laura mutters to herself, without really knowing why.
The winding route to Gärdsnäset isn’t totally familiar either. Maybe it’s because the surrounding forest has grown taller, encroached more. The main road, as it was once known, feels like a ridiculous description of the strip of grey, bumpy asphalt that doesn’t even have a white line down the middle.
The bus stops are gone, and it looks as if the 132, on which she travelled so many times between Gärdsnäset and Vedarp, doesn’t seem to run anymore.
Another memory pops up. Deer on the road, a car in the ditch. Herself, running along the road, caught in the headlights like a frightened animal.
Was that the evening when it all started? The first step towards disaster. Or was it before that? Maybe it was.
Maybe it all started at Kastrup.
7
Winter 1987
Jack was waiting just outside the doors in the arrivals hall. He looked exactly the same as last summer. Blond hair, those blue eyes that made something soft stir inside her breast.
‘Hi, Princess!’
She longed to tell him to stop using that childish nickname, tell him that she’s a young woman now, not a little princess, but before she could say a word he’d picked her up in a great big hug. She closed her eyes, let her nose brush against his throat, inhaled the smell of him. Aftershave, cigarette smoke. And something else, something that made the soft stirring grow stronger. She’d spent the last twelve hours imagining this moment. She wanted to make it last for as long as possible.
But then she realised they weren’t alone. Iben was there, tugging at Jack’s sleeve, throwing her arms around Laura’s neck as soon as he let go.
‘You’re here at last! I’ve missed you so much!’
So Iben had accompanied Jack on the long journey from Vintersjön. Laura should have been pleased. And she was, she told herself. Really pleased.
‘It’s great to see you too,’ she managed to say, forcing a smile to make the words seem more sincere. At the same time, she couldn’t shake off a nagging feeling of disappointment. When she’d imagined this reunion, it had been her and Jack – alone.
Jack picked up her bag and headed for the exit, while Iben slipped her arm through Laura’s.
‘How was your flight?’ she said. ‘Have you missed us?’
Something had happened to Iben since last summer. She’d got rid of the braces she’d worn since she was twelve, and she was wearing makeup, which was unusual for her. There was something else too, something Laura couldn’t quite put her finger on – as if Iben had grown up a lot in just a few months.
A thin sleet was falling outside the terminal. Laura immediately spotted Jack’s white Saab. She’d been with him when he bought it in the summer, helped him to wash it and clean the inside, bought new seat covers from Biltema.
‘Shall I buy you a Wunderbaum?’ she’d laughed, pointing to the display of tree-shaped air fresheners at the checkout. Jack had grinned and shaken his head.
But now there was a red air freshener dangling from the rear-view mirror, filling the interior of the car with a nauseating, artificial strawberry smell. She tried to catch Jack’s eye, but he was busy putting her case in the boot. For some reason the ugly air freshener had annoyed her. She rummaged in her rucksack and dug out his present, an American car magazine.
‘Here – I bought you this at the airport.’
‘Thanks!’
He took the magazine and was about to say something else when Iben grabbed Laura’s hand.
‘Come and sit in the back with me so we can talk.’
Laura’s irritation continued to grow. This wasn’t how she’d pictured the drive home. She and Jack were supposed to be sitting side by side in the front, maybe they’d even talk about what had happened the night before she left. He’d kissed her. Or maybe she’d kissed him, depending on your point of view.
Instead, she was sitting next to Iben, and all she could see of Jack was the back of his head and the occasional glance in the mirror.
Iben got him to put on some of their favourite songs from the summer, and after listening to her chatter on for a while, Laura began to feel a little less cross. There would be more days, lots of days to be alone with Jack before the Christmas break was over.
She and Iben started singing along to the chorus of ‘Last Christmas’, louder and louder until they were almost screaming at each other.
Jack caught Laura’s eye in the mirror and smiled. The softness in her breast stirred once more.
On board the ferry to Helsingborg they bought sweets, as usual. Yankie bars for Laura, a box of Fazer’s sweet liquorice for Iben, while Jack opted for a carton of Prince Red cigarettes.
As they left Helsingborg, the warmth and the movement of the car made Laura’s eyelids grow heavy.
‘I’m just going to close my eyes for a few minutes,’ she murmured.
When she woke up, they were leaving the motorway. Iben was asleep, her head resting on Laura’s shoulder. Jack was smoking, with the window open a couple of centimetres. Laura sat quietly, studying him in secret. The blond hair curling into the nape of his neck, his slim fingers holding the cigarette. In the background the radio was playing ‘I Want to Know What Love Is’ by Foreigner.
Her eyes began to close again. The last thing she saw was Jack’s face in the mirror; to her surprise, he looked worried.
The second time she woke up they were almost there. The sleet from Kastrup had turned into heavy snow, and she would have liked to see the Christmas displays in the shop windows as they drove through Vedarp, and the pretty lights on the big Christmas tree outside the church. Unfortunately, they’d already passed the centre, and were on the winding, unlit track beyond the village.