You could call it grace.
I hope the others will also receive grace, especially David. He and I are talking again. We are friendly, almost affectionate, but we’ve agreed that divorce is the right course of action. Our journey together is finished. Just like yours and mine.
The story is almost over, Margaux. There is only one chapter left, and a confession. My own.
We will begin with the remaining chapter. I’ve asked a private detective to track down Leo in Canada. He deserves to know the truth. After all, he was the real spring sacrifice. I’m intending to go over there on my own. My first trip without you. It will feel very strange. At the same time, you are always with me, in my thoughts and in my heart.
And the confession. I’ve saved it until the end because it’s the most difficult part. Maybe it was Hubert who gave me the strength to admit to myself who I am. Or maybe it was Elita Svart.
Thea Lind was a disguise. An alter ego I hid behind until I met you. I only wish I’d told you while there was still time. I almost did, on several occasions. And now I’m doing it. Confessing to you who I really am.
You are the person you want to be. And I only want to be your beloved.
I love you, Margaux. I always will. You are the great love of my life.
I miss you so much.’
The message ends. There is total silence in the room. And it might be her imagination, later Sister Aubert is almost certain that it is, but at that moment she could swear that the patient in the bed beside her smiles.
Epilogue
The log cabin lies deep in the forest. The private detective drops her off at the end of the drive.
‘I’ll wait here,’ he says. ‘Good luck.’
Thea picks up her bag and sets off towards the house. It is warm. The trees are dark green, the air is still. There is a boat on a trailer on the drive, and a rack of fishing rods on the veranda.
Two girls aged four or five are playing on the lawn.
‘Hi!’ one of them says. ‘What do you want?’ She has black hair, dark eyes and confident expression.
‘I’m looking for John Swanson,’ Thea says.
‘He’s my granddad!’
The front door opens and a tall man steps out. His beard and hair are peppered with grey, he has a slight stoop, and he’s wearing jeans and a checked flannel shirt.
‘Can I help you?’ he asks in almost perfect English.
‘I’m looking for Leo Rasmussen,’ Thea says in Swedish. She sees him recoil, as if the name opens doors in his head that he would prefer to keep closed.
‘I’m Thea Lind,’ she adds quickly. ‘I’m here to tell you what really happened on Walpurgis Night in 1986.’
The man stares at her, and for a few seconds she is convinced that he’s going to tell her to leave. But then he gestures towards the veranda.
‘Take a seat,’ he replies in Swedish. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
She sits down in a wicker armchair and he disappears into the house. He returns with two bottles of mineral water and sits down beside her.
Thea takes a deep breath, then tells him everything from beginning to end. He listens in silence.
‘Here.’
She passes him her iPad, shows him a series of newspaper headlines from last spring. Pictures of the pick-up and the Ford being recovered from the canal. Of Leo and Elita when they were young. Of the Polaroid.
He scrolls through the images, still saying nothing. He lingers for a while on Elita’s self-portrait. Touches her face with his index finger before moving on.
‘Thank you,’ he says when he’s finished. ‘Thank you for telling me all this.’
His eyes are shining with unshed tears, and it might be an illusion, but she thinks his back is suddenly a little straighter, as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.
She stays for a while and answers his questions, then gets up to say goodbye. She gives him a card with her phone number, then leaves him in peace with his thoughts.
On the way back to the car, the little dark-haired girl catches up with her. Takes her hand.
‘What’s your name?’ the child asks.
‘Thea. What’s yours?’
‘Elita.’
‘What a lovely name,’ Thea says.
For a brief moment she almost feels happy.
Author’s note
Tornaby and Ljungslöv are both fictional places. Just like Reftinge in End of Summer, Nedanås in Deeds of Autumn and Vedarp in Dead of Winter, they are based on the area where I grew up in north-western Skåne.
Walpurgis Eve in Sweden falls on April 30th. Walpurgis, or Valborgsmässoafton (‘Valborg’ for short), is the night where bonfires are lit to celebrate spring. Traditionally the bonfires were believed to ward off evil spirits, and today people still gather together to light the fires and sing. On May Day there are parades and festivals held across the country as May 1st has been a public holiday in Sweden since 1939.
About the Author
Anders de la Motte is the bestselling author of the Seasons Quartet; the first three books of which – End of Summer, Deeds of Autumn and Dead of Winter – have all been number one bestsellers in Sweden and have been shortlisted for the Swedish Academy of Crime Writers’ Award for Best Crime Novel of the Year. Anders, a former police officer, has already won a Swedish Academy Crime Award for his debut, Game, in 2010 and his second standalone, The Silenced, in 2015.
To date, the first three books in the Seasons Quartet have published over half a million copies. Set in southern Sweden, all four books can be read as standalones.