Her mind is racing, and her body begins to remember all the physical exertions of the day. At the turning for Gärdsnäset, she pulls over. The snow on the carriageway is getting thicker and thicker with the help of the wind. The motorway will be even worse, and she could well get stuck or end up in a jam because of an accident between here and the hotel. She makes a decision and heads for Gärdsnäset instead.
George is pleased to see her – but then the cat is probably glad of any company. Laura switches on as many lamps as she can, then goes into Hedda’s studio and fetches the box of postcards from Jack. She takes them into her room and closes the door on the chaos in the rest of the house before settling down on her bed to read through them again.
She’s never really thought about how Jack could afford to leave the country. Presumably she just assumed that Hedda had helped him somehow. But maybe the truth is completely different.
They’re after me. I have to get away from here!
For all these years she’s believed that Jack was so frightened that night at the hospital because Ulf Jensen and his sons blamed him for Iben’s death. Not because he was a thief.
And why didn’t Jack just settle for the money? Why did he steal Sofia’s jewellery?
Then there’s the unpleasant memory of Fredrik Jensen’s threat. Was that his own idea, a more robust version of his brother’s attempt at psychological warfare and Ulf Jensen’s perfectly judged tears?
Had they put the same pressure on Hedda, and if so, what had the Jensens been prepared to do if they got wind of the fact that Hedda had decided to sell to someone other than the council? A decision that meant they would lose Källegården . . .
Is Fredrik the person who’s been watching her, standing out there among the trees and smoking, trying to work out what her own plans for Gärdsnäset might be? On the other hand, Prince Red is a very popular brand of cigarettes. It could have been someone else. She doesn’t want to let go of that thought.
It could have been someone else.
She dreams about Källegården. It is night, all the lights are out, and the only illumination comes from the big Christmas tree in the yard. The snow lies thick and heavy on the farmhouse roof. She moves slowly towards the front door, floating above the ground rather than walking. Above the door, the three flames in the Jensen family crest are flickering. Then she is inside, drifting through the silent rooms.
Iben’s photograph hangs above the open fireplace, but present and past merge, and without knowing why Laura senses that she is not the only intruder. She turns, glimpses a shadow in the hallway. Someone has broken in with the intention of stealing a treasure.
She opens her mouth to call out, but no sound emerges. Instead, she finds herself transported to the upper floor. She is sitting at the dressing table in Iben’s room. The top drawer is open and empty.
She hears a movement behind her, turns around.
Jack is standing in the doorway. He is holding a fabric bag that looks heavy.
‘Why do you think she left it behind?’ he says. ‘If Sofia really did leave her family, why did she leave her jewellery? Wouldn’t you have taken your jewellery with you if you were running away?’
She stares at him, still incapable of saying a word. She thinks she hears the sound of car doors slamming in the yard, then the faint sound of sirens.
She manages to speak. ‘You have to get away! They’re coming!’
The next moment she is far out on the frozen lake, only metres away from the black eye. Hedda is standing beside her. She is both the Hedda Laura remembers, and the old woman in the pine coffin. Her eyes shine, reflecting the glow of the lamp on Miller’s boathouse.
‘There’s a spring down there,’ she says. ‘Water seeps out from underground and keeps the eye open.’
She takes Laura’s hand. Two of her fingers are no more than pink stumps.
‘No one escapes the winter fire. Not even you and me, my princess.’
Laura hears the sirens again, closer this time. Blue flames flare up from the ice around them, forming a wall of heat and cold.
Her clothes catch fire, her hair, her skin. She screams as the ice gives way beneath her and she plunges down into the black water.
And one for the nymph who lives down below.
Laura sits up in bed and draws a shuddering breath. Her pyjamas and sheets are soaked with sweat, the scar on her back is throbbing. She’d expected the nightmare. Her medication is in her hotel room, and over the past few days she has been careless with the dosage.
However, it isn’t the dream that has woken her. She heard a noise, she’s sure of it. A familiar, creaking sound, like an old wooden staircase. She jumps out of bed, runs through the house, flings the front door wide open.
The snow is still coming down heavily, she can hardly see the boathouse, and yet she’s certain he’s there. She takes a couple of steps out onto the porch, thinks she sees something, a shadowy figure moving among the trees. Or is she still dreaming?
‘Jack!’ she calls out into the falling snow. ‘Jack, wait!’
A gust of wind blows snow into her face and she raises her hand to protect her eyes.
When she lowers it, the figure has gone.
35
Winter 1987
‘We’ll go down to the bathing area beyond the cottage. Leave the mopeds there and walk across the ice. That means we’ll be able to get in at the back without anyone seeing us from the road. Milla’s with me, Laura with Peter.’
Once again Tomas was showing a side of himself that Laura had never seen before. From time to time he would glance at Milla, needing a little nod of encouragement.
The summer cottage he’d picked out was kind of remote, surrounded by trees and facing away from the lake. To be honest, summer cottage was a misnomer. The house was well equipped for winter, with an open fire and a chimney. The snow was regularly cleared from the drive, presumably by one of the Jensen family.
Laura tried not to think about Iben, but it was hard. They hadn’t spoken to each other since the argument at Wohlin’s. Jack was keeping out of Laura’s way too. He was either out in his car, or shut away in the boathouse. He didn’t even come down to join them for dinner as he always used to.
Hedda did her best to make excuses for him, but it was obvious that she too found the situation difficult. The atmosphere at the dinner table was strained.
Iben hadn’t only taken Jack from her and splintered her family; she’d also managed to poison the place Laura loved the most.
They parked the mopeds where Tomas had suggested. Laura took off her helmet and hung it on the handlebars. The sensible part of her wanted to ask Peter if they were really going to go through with this. If the two of them shouldn’t try to call the whole thing off before it was too late, but something made her hold back. A tingling feeling that grew stronger and stronger. It was both appealing and unpleasant. She knew Peter was experiencing the same thing; she’d felt it when she was sitting behind him with her arms wrapped around his waist, and now she could see it in his eyes.
‘Shall we go?’ he said, pointing to the others, who were leading the way. ‘The Goonies on an adventure.’
Dusk was falling. The ice was covered in a thick layer of snow, which the wind was moving around into small drifts. In some places it had exposed patches of black ice.
‘Do you think she can see us?’ Laura whispered.
‘Who?’
‘The nymph, of course.’
They both burst into nervous giggles, which made Tomas turn around.