Dead of Winter

7 Winter 1987

Jack was waiting just outside the doors in the arrivals hall. He looked exactly the same as last summer. Blond hair, those blue eyes that made something soft stir inside her breast.

‘Hi, Princess!’

She longed to tell him to stop using that childish nickname, tell him that she’s a young woman now, not a little princess, but before she could say a word he’d picked her up in a great big hug. She closed her eyes, let her nose brush against his throat, inhaled the smell of him. Aftershave, cigarette smoke. And something else, something that made the soft stirring grow stronger. She’d spent the last twelve hours imagining this moment. She wanted to make it last for as long as possible.

But then she realised they weren’t alone. Iben was there, tugging at Jack’s sleeve, throwing her arms around Laura’s neck as soon as he let go.

‘You’re here at last! I’ve missed you so much!’

So Iben had accompanied Jack on the long journey from Vintersjön. Laura should have been pleased. And she was, she told herself. Really pleased.

‘It’s great to see you too,’ she managed to say, forcing a smile to make the words seem more sincere. At the same time, she couldn’t shake off a nagging feeling of disappointment. When she’d imagined this reunion, it had been her and Jack – alone.

Jack picked up her bag and headed for the exit, while Iben slipped her arm through Laura’s.

‘How was your flight?’ she said. ‘Have you missed us?’

Something had happened to Iben since last summer. She’d got rid of the braces she’d worn since she was twelve, and she was wearing makeup, which was unusual for her. There was something else too, something Laura couldn’t quite put her finger on – as if Iben had grown up a lot in just a few months.

A thin sleet was falling outside the terminal. Laura immediately spotted Jack’s white Saab. She’d been with him when he bought it in the summer, helped him to wash it and clean the inside, bought new seat covers from Biltema.

‘Shall I buy you a Wunderbaum?’ she’d laughed, pointing to the display of tree-shaped air fresheners at the checkout. Jack had grinned and shaken his head.

But now there was a red air freshener dangling from the rear-view mirror, filling the interior of the car with a nauseating, artificial strawberry smell. She tried to catch Jack’s eye, but he was busy putting her case in the boot. For some reason the ugly air freshener had annoyed her. She rummaged in her rucksack and dug out his present, an American car magazine.

‘Here – I bought you this at the airport.’

‘Thanks!’

He took the magazine and was about to say something else when Iben grabbed Laura’s hand.

‘Come and sit in the back with me so we can talk.’

Laura’s irritation continued to grow. This wasn’t how she’d pictured the drive home. She and Jack were supposed to be sitting side by side in the front, maybe they’d even talk about what had happened the night before she left. He’d kissed her. Or maybe she’d kissed him, depending on your point of view.

Instead, she was sitting next to Iben, and all she could see of Jack was the back of his head and the occasional glance in the mirror.

Iben got him to put on some of their favourite songs from the summer, and after listening to her chatter on for a while, Laura began to feel a little less cross. There would be more days, lots of days to be alone with Jack before the Christmas break was over.

She and Iben started singing along to the chorus of ‘Last Christmas’, louder and louder until they were almost screaming at each other.

Jack caught Laura’s eye in the mirror and smiled. The softness in her breast stirred once more.

On board the ferry to Helsingborg they bought sweets, as usual. Yankie bars for Laura, a box of Fazer’s sweet liquorice for Iben, while Jack opted for a carton of Prince Red cigarettes.

As they left Helsingborg, the warmth and the movement of the car made Laura’s eyelids grow heavy.

‘I’m just going to close my eyes for a few minutes,’ she murmured.

When she woke up, they were leaving the motorway. Iben was asleep, her head resting on Laura’s shoulder. Jack was smoking, with the window open a couple of centimetres. Laura sat quietly, studying him in secret. The blond hair curling into the nape of his neck, his slim fingers holding the cigarette. In the background the radio was playing ‘I Want to Know What Love Is’ by Foreigner.

Her eyes began to close again. The last thing she saw was Jack’s face in the mirror; to her surprise, he looked worried.

The second time she woke up they were almost there. The sleet from Kastrup had turned into heavy snow, and she would have liked to see the Christmas displays in the shop windows as they drove through Vedarp, and the pretty lights on the big Christmas tree outside the church. Unfortunately, they’d already passed the centre, and were on the winding, unlit track beyond the village.

Jack had noticed that she was awake. ‘Not long now,’ he said.

Iben was still asleep, and Laura kept very still so as not to disturb her. At last they were alone. Nearly.

Jack smiled at her, but that air of worry still lingered in his eyes and in the line of his jaw. In fact, the closer they got to Gärdsnäset, the worse he looked.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Come on, Jack. I can tell there’s something.’

He shuffled in his seat, moved his head as if he wanted to check that Iben really was sleeping.

‘Everything’s kind of . . . different,’ he said quietly.

‘What do you mean?’

He focused on the road ahead. The forest was closing in around them now, interrupted less and less often by open ground.

‘Things have happened around the lake. Things that . . .’

They were passing the big sign showing symbols for the holiday village, swimming and camping. Jack slowed down and turned off for Gärdsnäset.

‘What things?’

Laura spoke a little louder than she’d intended, and Iben stirred. Jack clamped his lips together.

‘It doesn’t matter – forget it.’

Iben sat up, stretched. ‘Are we there already?’

‘Yes,’ Jack said, with a little too much enthusiasm. He shook his head faintly at Laura, making it clear that the conversation was over.

They passed the fir plantation, and after a few hundred metres they reached a tall deciduous forest where the snow had formed a white carpet beneath the straight tree trunks.

The headlights picked out the archway that had been their summer project. It had started out as cut-out pictures and sketches on Hedda’s planning board, and ended with them helping Jack to build it.

‘It’s good to have you back,’ Jack said in his normal voice.

And there was Gärdsnäset, twenty or so pretty little red cabins distributed among the trees. Every external light was lit, spreading a welcoming glow that was brightened by the thin covering of snow.

It was so beautiful that Laura almost forgot what Jack had said.

Rows of burning torches lined the track. They passed the big cabin in the centre and pulled up in the turning circle outside Aunt Hedda’s house. Laura could see the lake beyond the house and the jetty. There were several metres of ice extending out from the shore, then dark water reflecting the lights from the village.

‘Welcome home, Princess!’ Jack said, back to his usual self.

Hedda’s front door flew open and Laura’s aunt came running out, followed by Tomas and Peter – and someone else. A young woman about the same age as Jack, who stopped on the top step.

‘Who’s that?’ Laura asked.

‘That’s Milla – she moved in back in the autumn. Didn’t Hedda tell you? Tomas and Peter are already crazy about her.’

Laura shook her head. Noticed out of the corner of her eye that the worried expression was back on Jack’s face.