They used to talk about what they would call their children if they ever had children together. Emilie had said Sebastian if it was a boy, and Johanne if it was a girl. Remi didn’t really mind, he just wanted Emilie to be happy. And suddenly, there she was, in the newspaper with a child on her lap. A little boy called Sebastian. He could no longer remember what the article had been about, only that the picture had been taken at the boy’s nursery.
And hey presto, they came back.
The memories.
Not only had they come back, he could physically feel them in his body, he started reliving the past, he felt the butterflies in his stomach when he walked past the places where it had happened, the place where – according to Emilie – absolutely nothing had happened. But he knew that it was all a lie.
They did it in the grove between the junction and the school playground where houses have since been built. Markus and Emilie hadn’t even been able to wait until they got home, but they were seen – at least so the rumour went. And this at a time when she was supposed to be his girlfriend, when life was meant to be good, but it became a living nightmare.
Some people are just like that; they covet what others have. If Markus saw someone with a cool jumper or jacket at school, he had to have the same – or preferably something better and more expensive. He had to have the latest thing. For some reason he had always been popular with the girls. And, to top it all, he was Erna Pedersen’s teacher’s pet.
So when Remi started going out with Emilie, Markus obviously couldn’t help himself. He had to have her, too, couldn’t bear that someone else had something so wonderful. And as for Emilie, she was out of control and just wanted to party all the time.
Emilie had pleaded innocence, of course, and blamed it all on common gossip in Jessheim. She managed to sow just enough doubt in Remi for them to get back together. And that was when it happened with the worst possible timing; she missed her period. And he remembered what it had been like, when he hoped it could have marked a fresh start for them, that everything would be different. We’ll erase the past and start over. We’ll be a family, build a life together. And we’ll call our child Sebastian.
Remi tightens his fists when he remembers the conversation they had a few days after she had told him about the pregnancy. Though she never said so outright, he realised that Johanne had been whispering in her ear and told her no, you can’t do this, Emilie. Don’t throw your life away. It’s too soon to have kids.
So what are you going to do? You’re not going to marry him, are you?
Johanne had never liked him much even though he had saved her life when she choked on that kebab outside the takeaway. He could see it in her eyes.
He finally got his proof a couple of days ago in the form of the message Johanne had sent to Emilie on Facebook.
Just as well you ended up with Mattis. It could have been much much worse ☺☺☺
A red ride-on tractor is parked on the shingle outside the garage. All Remi can think about is what it would have been like to live in this house, in its warmth. With her and Sebastian. It should have been like this. She said it would be.
The front door opens and a man comes out. A man who shouldn’t be there. He walks down the steps and smiles to himself, he looks so bloody smug, just like Erna Pedersen’s son in the picture the old hag had hanging on her wall.
Then something clouds Remi’s vision. He can’t see that he has started to move, he just feels it, he hears the shingle crunch under his feet. He doesn’t say anything, either; he can just about make out that the garage door glides open and something shiny and expensive appears behind it. He doesn’t feel his hands, his arms or his head, doesn’t feel them make contact, doesn’t hear the punch or the crack. And he doesn’t know what he has done before he realises that his knuckles are red.
Chapter 72
‘How the hell did you know that?’ Bjarne asks as he starts to run.
‘Forget it,’ Henning says, trying to keep up. ‘What’s going on?’
The distant between them grows with each step.
‘Where are you going?’
Bjarne turns his head, but increases his speed. Henning tries to follow, but his body protests.
‘Are you going to Jessheim?’ Henning calls out after him, but Bjarne just keeps on running. ‘Can I get a lift? I think I’ve earned it, don’t you?’
Henning stops outside the entrance to the police station’s underground car park and watches Bjarne disappear inside. A few seconds later a car starts up in the darkness below. Tyres squeal. A fan belt complains. Then a grey Volvo estate comes towards Henning at a furious pace and brakes abruptly right by his feet. The window is already down.
Henning looks inside and meets Bjarne’s wide-open eyes.
‘Go on then, get in!’
Emilie looks up from Mattis’s bloodied face and stares at the man who appears right behind him. With a hard push he shoves Mattis into the hallway, follows him and locks the door behind them.
‘Remi?’ she exclaims.
Remi keeps pushing Mattis towards the living room and stares at her with glazed eyes.
‘You,’ he says, pointing at her. ‘Come here.’
Emilie stands rooted to the spot.
‘But—’
‘Come here,’ Remi demands again, louder this time.
From the kitchen they hear the sound of quiet weeping. It grows and becomes increasingly desperate. Emilie sees the look Remi sends her little boy. A look that is seething with rage.
Emilie blocks the door.
‘Please,’ she says. ‘Don’t—’
But Remi interrupts her by raising his index finger, grabbing hold of her and forcing her into the living room. Mattis tries to stop him, but he has never been much of a fighter, nor is he particularly strong and Remi wards off the attack with a punch that hits him in the mouth. Mattis crashes on to the floor.
Sebastian cries even louder.
‘Please,’ Mattis stutters through split lips. ‘Take whatever you want. Only please don’t hurt us.’
Remi says nothing.
‘Just leave us alone. Please,’ Mattis implores him.
Emilie has no idea what is going on. And then there is Remi, who—
Remi’s army jacket. It’s khaki. Remi was the man with the camera outside Sebastian’s nursery the other morning. Her gaze shifts to the wall, to the framed picture. The two footprints in the sand.
Emilie clasps her mouth with both hands while her eyes well up. Remi grabs Mattis and pushes him towards the dining table. In his hands he holds a thick green rope that Emilie recognises from the garage. He orders Mattis to sit down.
Mattis does as he is told and sits on the floor next to a table leg. The sweat pours from his forehead and mingles with blood that stains his bright white shirt. A sob escapes from Emilie’s lips as she sees the madness in Remi’s eyes, a wide-eyed expression that is new to her, as if he has become someone else. She watches him tie single, double and triple knots, criss-crossing the rope and tightening it so hard that Mattis groans. Sebastian is still crying in the kitchen.
‘Get that kid to shut up,’ Remi snarls and wags an angry finger at her. ‘Make him shut up, or I will.’
Emilie sniffles, turns around and goes out into the kitchen. She kneels down to Sebastian, wipes his face, hushes him, says it’ll be all right, it’ll be all right, you just have to be very, very quiet, listen to me everything is going to be all right if you can just be very, very quiet. But it’s no use. Mattis, too, tries to call out words of reassurance to Sebastian from the living room, but to no avail. Sebastian keeps crying, his wailing rises and falls. Emilie looks around for a dummy. Finds none.