Elsa snorts.
‘He’s way too nice. He let her come and go as she liked, consoled her when the latest boyfriend dumped her, helped her feel better when she’d partied too hard.’ She touches the tip of her nose to underline what she means. ‘She treated him like shit.’
There is a brief silence, and Laura decides to change the subject.
‘You’re the one who’s been feeding George, I assume.’
Elsa nods. ‘I didn’t want the poor little thing to starve to death. Now Hedda’s not here anymore . . .’ She pauses, looks genuinely upset for the first time.
‘So how did you know Hedda?’
‘I ride my bike up there in the forest.’ She points in the direction of the main road. ‘There’s hardly ever anyone around, no one to tell my dad. One day last summer, my chain broke. Hedda came along when I was messing with it – she nearly scared me to death.’ A grimace that might be a smile. ‘We wheeled the bike to the holiday village and she helped me to fix it. From then on I used to stop and have coffee with her whenever I came here.’
The grimace turns into a proper smile.
‘She could be a bit difficult, but I really liked her. And I liked the cat. My mum was allergic, so I was never allowed a pet of my own.’
‘Same here,’ Laura says. ‘George was my substitute cat. Not the same George, of course. All Hedda’s cats were called George.’
‘Yes, she told me that. I looked after George when Hedda was in hospital in the autumn.’
Elsa looks around. There is a large glade in front of them, with the lake beyond. Over by the shore a small iron cross is sticking up above the thin covering of snow.
‘That’s where Iben Jensen died, isn’t it?’ Elsa says.
Laura nods. Her brain has already conjured up the dance hall that once stood in the glade. The flames, the heat, the smells, the noise. Her scar comes to life.
‘My school’s named after her,’ Elsa goes on. ‘All her trophies and medals are in a display cabinet by the main entrance.’
Laura makes a non-committal sound, trying to block the images in her memory.
‘My dad was injured in the fire – he suffered burns to one leg, although you can hardly see it now. Mum sent him to a plastic surgeon before they got married. Hedda lost two fingers. Were you hurt?’
They could just as easily be chatting about the weather. Laura makes an effort to maintain her composure. The scar is burning so fiercely that the droplets of sweat must be turning to steam.
‘I have a scar on my back.’
Oddly enough, the words ease the pain a little.
‘And you haven’t had plastic surgery to remove it?’
Laura shakes her head.
‘I carry a virus – nothing infectious,’ she quickly adds. ‘But anything that has a traumatic effect on the body could activate it – like an operation. Or a pregnancy,’ she hears herself say.
‘So you don’t have any children?’
‘No.’
Laura takes a deep breath. Decides to tell the truth.
‘Just over two years ago I was expecting a little girl, but she died before she was born.’
‘Because of the virus?’
‘The doctors couldn’t be sure, but I think so. Anyway, she died in the womb, with no explanation.’
‘That’s awful!’ Elsa tilts her head to one side. ‘What was her name?’
‘Andreas wanted to call her Saga.’
‘And you?’
‘I wanted to wait until she arrived.’
Because you knew the winter fire could take her, a voice whispers in Laura’s head.
Elsa can see that she’s uncomfortable. She takes Laura’s arm.
‘Come on, let’s go back to the house. George must be hungry.’
They’re sitting on the porch while George tucks into the food Elsa has brought.
Laura’s shirt is still damp, but the scar has stopped burning, and a strange sense of relief is spreading through her body.
‘Does your dad ever talk about the fire?’ she asks.
Elsa strokes George’s back, and the cat rubs her head against Elsa’s hand before going into the house.
‘No. It was my mum who told me about his leg.’
‘Do you know if he’s still in touch with any of the others who were there? Tomas Rask, for example?’
She is thinking of Peter’s abrupt answer to her question.
Elsa frowns, takes a lighter out of her pocket.
‘I know he speaks to Tomas on the phone occasionally, and it’s nothing to do with his job. Dad has a work tone of voice and a personal one,’ she clarifies. ‘Almost all his calls are to do with work, but with Tomas it’s almost like when he used to talk to Mum. That’s why I’ve noticed it.’
Laura leans forward.
‘When did you last hear them talking?’
Elsa plays distractedly with the lighter, flicking the wheel back and forth to create sparks.
‘I don’t remember, but Dad’s phone was on the kitchen table this morning, and I saw he had a text message from Tomas.’
Laura tries not to sound too interested.
‘Did you see what it said?’
Elsa looks up, apparently untroubled by Laura’s questions. In fact, she seems faintly amused.
‘He wanted to know if he and Dad were meeting up this evening.’
23
Winter 1987
Hedda hardly mentioned the dead sheep, the conversation with Ulf Jensen or the fires for the rest of the day. Instead, she chatted away as if everything was perfectly normal. She admired Laura’s makeup, said how pleased she was that Laura and Milla were getting along. Laura understood perfectly; Hedda wanted them to have a lovely Christmas together, without any unpleasantness like fires or dead animals. Laura actually liked the fact that Hedda was making such an effort.
And in any case, she’d already uncovered enough secrets. About Peter and Tomas. And about Milla, her new . . . new what?
Friend?
After dinner they washed up together, with George rubbing against their legs as Hedda scraped the leftovers into one of the cat’s dishes.
‘The sauna’s heating up,’ she said. ‘I thought it was high time we took a winter dip – what do you think?’
‘Great idea!’
They waited until it was fully dark and the stars appeared in the sky. Changed outside the sauna, then ran out onto the pontoon with their towels over their shoulders. Someone, probably Jack, had cleared the snow from the pontoon, but Laura tiptoed along to avoid the cold wood. Hedda went down two rungs of the ladder and threw herself into the icy water. Laura stayed put. She knew she’d made a rookie error. The heat of the sauna was already leaving her body, and in seconds she would be shivering. But it was so lovely standing here gazing at the stars, the moon, the ice and the black water. She’d seen this sight so many times before, and for a little while it was actually possible to convince herself that nothing had changed. She dropped the towel and clambered onto the ladder. The metal was freezing cold to her hands and feet.
‘Exactly zero degrees,’ Hedda said, holding up the thermometer that was tied to the ladder. ‘Don’t hesitate, just jump in, Princess!’
Laura filled her lungs with air. Closed her eyes. Jumped.
Afterwards they walked back to the house together with that wonderful mixture of warmth and cold prickling their skin.
‘What shall we do tomorrow?’
Laura glanced up at the top floor of the boathouse. The lights were on, and Jack’s car was back.
‘Don’t know.’
Hedda had obviously noticed the glance. She stopped at the bottom of the steps.
‘Shall we see if Jack would like to join us for a cup of hot chocolate?’
‘OK.’
Laura tried not to sound too keen. Part of her didn’t want to see Jack, another part wanted nothing more.