‘You clearly have no control over your dog.’ Her sharp tone of voice had him fighting back the urge to stand to attention. She had a slight accent and this, together with her flashing dark eyes, gave him the impression she must come from some southern country.
‘Well, it’s not really my dog. I’m just taking care of him until…’ Mellberg heard himself stammering like a teenager. He cleared his throat and attempted to sound a bit more authoritative. ‘I’m not used to dogs. And he’s not mine anyway.’
‘He seems to have a different opinion about that.’ She pointed to Ernst who was pressed close to Mellberg’s leg, looking up at him with adoring eyes.
‘Er, well…’ said Mellberg, embarrassed.
‘Shall we continue walking the dogs together? My name is Rita.’ She held out her hand, and after a slight hesitation, he shook it.
‘I’ve had dogs all my life, so I’m sure I can give you a few tips. Besides, it’s much more pleasant to walk with somebody to keep me company.’ She didn’t wait for a reply before starting off along the path. Without knowing how it had happened, Mellberg found himself keeping step with her, as if his feet had a will of their own. And Ernst had no objections. He fell in beside Señorita, wagging his tail vigorously.
Chapter 6
‘Erik? Frans?’ Britta and Elsy cautiously stepped inside. They’d knocked but received no answer. They glanced around nervously. The doctor and his wife probably wouldn’t be pleased to find two girls coming over to visit their son while they were away. Usually they met in Fjällbacka, but on bold impulse Erik had suggested that the girls come to the house since his parents would be out all day.
‘Erik?’ Elsy called a little louder and then jumped when she heard someone say ‘Shhh’ from the room directly in front of them. Erik appeared in the doorway and motioned for them to come in.
‘Axel is upstairs asleep. He came back this morning.’
‘Oh, he’s so brave,’ said Britta with a sigh, but her face lit up when she saw Frans.
‘Hi!’
‘Hi,’ said Frans but he was looking past her. ‘Hi, Elsy.’
‘Hi, Frans,’ replied Elsy, but then she headed straight for the bookshelves.
‘My, what a lot of books you have!’ She ran her fingers over the spines.
‘You can borrow some if you like,’ said Erik generously, although he added, ‘But only on condition that you take good care of them. Pappa is very particular about his books.’
‘Of course,’ said Elsy happily, devouring the rows of books with her eyes. She loved to read. Frans didn’t take his eyes off her for even a second.
‘Books are a waste of time,’ said Britta. ‘It’s much better to experience things yourself rather than just reading about other people’s experiences. Don’t you agree, Frans?’ She sat down in the chair next to him, tilting her head to look into his eyes.
‘One doesn’t necessarily have to exclude the other,’ he said gruffly but without meeting her gaze. He was still staring at Elsy. A furrow appeared on Britta’s forehead, and she jumped up from the chair.
‘Are any of you going to the dance on Saturday?’ She took a few dance steps across the floor.
‘I don’t think Mamma and Pappa will let me go,’ said Elsy in a low voice, still engrossed in the books.
‘Who do you think will be there?’ said Britta, dancing some more. She tried to pull Frans to his feet, but he resisted and managed to stay seated in the armchair.
‘Stop fooling around.’ His tone of voice was brusque, but then he couldn’t help laughing. ‘Britta, you’re crazy, do you know that?’
‘Don’t you like crazy girls? If not, I can be serious too.’ She put on a stern expression. ‘Or happy.’ She laughed so loud that the sound echoed off the walls.
‘Shhh,’ said Erik, glancing up at the ceiling.
‘Or I can be very quiet,’ whispered Britta melodramatically, and Frans laughed again, pulling her down on to his lap.
‘Crazy will do just fine.’
A voice from the doorway interrupted them.
‘What a ruckus you’re making.’ There stood Axel, leaning against the door jamb and smiling tiredly.
‘Sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you.’ Erik’s voice was brimming with the awe that he felt towards his brother, but he also looked worried.
‘It doesn’t matter, Erik. I can take a nap later.’ Axel folded his arms and said, ‘So, looks like you’re taking advantage of our parents going out to visit the Axelssons by having a few ladies over.’
‘Er, I don’t know if I’d call it that,’ muttered Erik.
Frans laughed, still with Britta perched on his lap. ‘Do you see ladies anywhere? There isn’t a lady in sight. Just two saucy little girls.’
‘Shut up, why don’t you!’ Britta punched Frans in the chest. She did not look amused.
‘And Elsy is so busy looking at the books that she hasn’t even said hello.’
Elsy turned around, embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry. Hello, Axel.’
‘I was just kidding you. Go back to the books. Did Erik tell you that you could borrow some if you like?’
‘Yes, he did.’ Still blushing, she quickly turned her attention back to the bookshelves.
‘How’d it go yesterday?’ Erik was looking at his brother as if hungry for every word.
Axel’s cheerful, open expression shut down at once. ‘Fine,’ he said curtly. ‘It went fine.’ Then he turned on his heel. ‘I’m going to lie down again for a while. Please try to keep the noise level to a minimum, okay?’
Erik watched his brother go. Besides the awe and pride that he felt, there was also a certain amount of envy.
But Frans was filled with nothing but admiration. ‘Your brother is so courageous… I wish I could help too. If only I were a few years older.’
‘And what would you do then?’ asked Britta, still sulking because he’d ridiculed her in front of Axel. ‘You’d never dare. And what would your father say? From what I’ve heard, it’s the Germans he’d rather lend a helping hand to.’
‘Cut it out,’ said Frans crossly, shoving Britta off his lap. ‘People say so many things. I didn’t think you listened to crap like that.’
Erik, who always played the role of mediator in the group, abruptly stood up and said, ‘We can listen to my father’s records for a while, if you want. He has Count Basie.’
He hurried over to the gramophone to put on the record. He didn’t like it when people argued. He really didn’t.
Chapter 7
She’d always loved airports: the planes landing and taking off, the travellers with eyes full of anticipation as they set off on holiday or on a business trip, and all the coming and going, with people reuniting or saying their farewells. She remembered an airport from a long, long time ago. The crush of people, the smells, the colours, the hum of voices. The tension that she sensed rather than saw in her mother’s face and the way she held Paula’s hand in a tight grip. The suitcase that she’d packed and repacked and then packed again. Everything had to be right, because this was going to be a trip with no return. She remembered too the heat, and then the chill when they arrived. She would never have believed it possible to be so cold. And the airport where they landed was different. Quieter, with cold grey paint. No one spoke loudly, no one waved their hands around. Everybody seemed locked inside their own little bubbles. No one looked them in the eye. Their documents were stamped and then they were sent on their way by a strange-sounding voice in a strange-sounding language. And her mother had kept a tight grip on her hand the whole time.
‘Is that him?’ Martin pointed at a man in his eighties who had just exited the passport control area. He was tall, with grey hair, and he wore a beige trench coat. Very stylish, thought Paula immediately.