‘Yes.’
After the events of the last few minutes that conclusion seems inescapable. Or maybe not.
Laura picks up the photograph of Milla and looks at it again. Finds the magnifying glass and once again tries to imagine her thirty years older, maybe after cosmetic surgery.
There’s definitely a resemblance.
‘What do you actually know about Erica von Thurn?’ she asks. ‘Apart from the fact that she’s from Switzerland and is married to Pontus.’
‘Not much . . . I know her through Pontus. As I said before, she and Heinz are old school friends, and I think she’s probably sleeping with him. Why do you ask?’
Steph pulls off her cap and pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head.
Laura takes a deep breath.
‘Because I think Erica could be Milla.’
Steph looks shocked.
‘Milla? The girl who was involved in the fire? The psychopath?’
Laura nods.
‘She’s had cosmetic surgery, changed her hair colour. Her age and height fit, and her character. Milla was very good at transforming herself, becoming the person others wanted her to be. She also dreamed of travelling to Berlin. Germany, Switzerland – they’re pretty close, and Erica’s Swedish is suspiciously good for someone who learned it as an adult.’
She pursues her train of thought.
‘And I thought of something else. Milla and Jack could have left together. His last postcard to Hedda was sent from Berlin. If Milla’s back, then Jack could be here too.’
‘Prince Charming? Are you saying he might be Heinz?’
‘I thought so for a while, but then something happened at the party, during the firework display.’
‘What?’
‘He tried to kiss me, and it felt so wrong. Heinz isn’t Jack.’
‘So where is Jack?’
‘I don’t know. Still lying low, I guess.’
Steph leans back and takes a sip of her tea, her expression serious now.
‘What does all that mean for this place? What about the sale?’
‘I’m going to wait until I’ve got a clearer picture of everything. I’ve asked my office to do an in-depth check on everyone connected with Vintersjöholm Development. False identities are hard to maintain. If there’s the tiniest crack, we’ll find it. And we’ll find out where the money is coming from that the von Thurns are planning to use to buy Gärdsnäset.’
Steph puts down her cup.
‘Are you saying you’re not going to sell?’
‘Not until I know the truth.’
Laura picks up the magnifying glass again, holds it over Milla’s face and follows the contours. The position of the eyes in relation to each other, the distance between the cheekbones, the height of the hairline.
‘You have to sell,’ Steph says.
Her voice sounds different. Laura looks up, realises that Steph hasn’t spoken Swenglish for a long time. She has pushed her sunglasses so far up that they have stretched the skin of her forehead. Something clicks in Laura’s mind. Steph, whom she feels she’s known much longer than she actually has. Steph, who has always been slightly too blonde, slightly too loud, slightly too attractive. Steph, who speaks such exaggerated Swenglish that Laura has always suspected it was a game. A disguise so over-the-top that it can’t possibly be a disguise.
A disguise. A mask.
Her heart leaps into her throat.
‘It’s you!’ she gasps. ‘You’re Milla!’
Steph raises her eyebrows, remains motionless for a second, then relaxes into a cool smile.
64
We are who we are, my princess. For good or evil . . .
They are still sitting at the kitchen table. Neither of them has moved or said anything for several minutes.
Laura feels seasick, as if the whole world all around her is bobbing up and down, and she can’t find a fixed point to anchor her gaze.
‘Jack . . .’ she says eventually. ‘Where is he?’
Steph – who is actually Milla – leans back and takes another sip of her tea.
‘Dead.’
Laura’s stomach contracts into an ice-cold, solid lump.
‘How? When?’
‘An overdose, summer 2013. We were living in New York. He’d struggled with his addiction for a long time. He’d been in and out of various treatment facilities. For a while I thought he was going to make it; he was clean for years. But then he lost his way again.’
Laura can hardly breathe.
‘Then I got the opportunity to move back to Sweden,’ Steph goes on. ‘Maybe I saw it as a sign, a chance to make another fresh start. The business community in Stockholm isn’t that big; the fact that we bumped into each other was a coincidence. Well, nearly. I was curious about you. I wondered whether my disguise would fool you. After all, I’d spent almost thirty years honing it to perfection. I thought that if you didn’t realise, then no one would. Our first meeting was meant to be a one-off. A test.’
Steph shrugs.
‘But then I found that I liked you. I was pretty lonely; I hadn’t yet built up a network of contacts in Sweden. You were in the middle of a divorce and needed someone to talk to.’
‘The blind spot,’ Laura murmurs.
‘Sorry?’
‘You moved into my blind spot while I was looking in a different direction. You stayed there the whole time, diagonally behind me so that I couldn’t see you properly. Pretending to be my friend.’
Steph lowers her voice.
‘There was no pretence, Laura. I was your friend. I am your friend.’
Laura shakes her head. She would really like to cover her ears with her hands, block out everything Steph is saying. Her head is full to the brim with memories, meetings, conversations, confidences they’ve shared. She feels as if her brain is about to explode, then it abruptly falls silent.
‘Jack sometimes talked about you,’ Steph says. ‘I know he thought about you. Maybe that was another reason why I sought you out.’
‘Jack was Hedda’s son,’ Laura snaps.
She doesn’t really know why, perhaps she wants to show that she too has a secret to reveal – information Steph was unaware of concerning someone she cared about. It works. Steph looks shocked, which is a tiny, tiny consolation in the middle of all this.
‘How do you know that?’
‘I found a maternity unit bracelet among Hedda’s things and worked out the dates. He was her and Johnny Miller’s love child.’
‘The troll who lived on the other side of the lake?’
‘Yes. They met when they were young. Hedda fell pregnant and he dumped her, then he changed his mind and came after her. But by then it was too late – Hedda had already given Jack up.’
She runs out of breath; she has to pause, take deep breaths.
‘When he was older she went looking for him and became his foster parent at Gärdsnäset.’
Steph still looks taken aback – and kind of upset.
‘Do you think he knew?’ Laura asks. ‘That Hedda was his mother?’
Steph shakes her head.
‘No. He cared about her, sent postcards so that she wouldn’t worry.’ She points to the noticeboard. ‘But when we moved to the USA we decided that he should stop, so that our trail ended in Germany. I know it was hard for him.’
They both take a sip of their tea, which has grown cold.
‘So you’re one of the investors in Vintersjöholm Development?’ Laura says quietly.
‘The main investor.’ Steph spreads her hands wide. ‘I didn’t want to say anything; I hoped everything would sort itself out. It still can.’ She leans across the table. ‘We can do this together, Laura. Sell to us and invest the money in the project.’ Her tone is eager now. ‘We can build something amazing. Name a road after Hedda.’