Dead of Winter

21 Winter 1987

‘There – what do you think?’

Milla screwed the cap on the mascara and stepped aside so that Laura could see herself in the bathroom mirror. Laura couldn’t help inhaling sharply.

She’d tried putting on makeup on the few occasions when she thought her mother wouldn’t catch her, of course, but this was on another level.

The person gazing back at her looked so grown up. So . . . beautiful. She turned her head, admiring her face from different angles.

‘It’ll be even better if you let me fix your hair and clothes.’

Laura still couldn’t stop staring at her reflection.

‘Jack won’t be able to take his eyes off you, I swear. But we need an occasion to show you off. Do they have discos in this dump?’

‘Sometimes, at the leisure centre – but they’re usually for under-sixteens.’

‘OK, so how about a party?’

Laura shook her head. ‘We don’t really go to parties. Peter and Tomas are never invited, Jack’s too old, and I’m not at school here, so I hardly know anybody in the village.’

‘But Iben’s invited?’

Laura shrugged. ‘I suppose so, but she doesn’t go.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’ve no idea. Maybe she doesn’t like parties. Or maybe . . . maybe her dad won’t let her go.’

‘Oh, so her dad’s one of those. What does he think about the situation with Jack, then?’

Laura thought about what Kent Rask had said in the car.

‘I assume he doesn’t know.’

Milla’s voice took on a different tone.

‘So they’re keeping it quiet because of Daddy.’

Laura had told her about Iben’s betrayal. Milla had confided that the same thing had happened to her a year or so ago with one of her friends, and she knew exactly how Laura was feeling. However, the new tone made Laura think she’d said too much. Revealed details she should have kept to herself.

She quickly changed the subject.

‘What kind of errands do Peter and Tomas do for you?’ She’d been wondering ever since she met Peter outside Wohlin’s.

Milla looked at her for a few seconds. ‘Do you really want to know? Seriously?’

Laura nodded. This was another piece of the puzzle that would tell her something about Milla, possibly something important.

‘OK, let’s go and sit down. I need a smoke.’

Milla returned to the sofa, tapped out a fresh cigarette. Laura sank down on the armchair opposite, watched as Milla lit the cigarette with a large gold-coloured lighter.

‘Tomas and Peter get into cottages that are closed up for the winter,’ Milla said, blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth. ‘They bring me fags and booze. They’re getting really good at it.’

Laura was taken aback. ‘You mean they break in?’

‘No, no. Almost everyone hides a key. It’s hanging from a nail tucked away somewhere, or it’s in a biscuit tin in the woodshed. If you unlock the door with a key, that doesn’t count as breaking in. It’s more like visiting without asking for permission.’

Laura sat there open-mouthed, trying to digest what she’d just heard.

‘Your turn,’ Milla said brusquely.

‘What?’

‘Its two-one to me. Your turn to tell a secret. Something nobody else knows about you.’

Laura wasn’t sure what to say. The secret Milla had just shared was huge, and even though it worried her, it also excited her. Milla trusted her.

‘Sometimes . . .’ she began. ‘No, forget it.’

‘Go on,’ Milla urged.

‘Sometimes I look at people. Mainly the other girls in school. I look at their clothes and their stuff, listen to the way they talk. Try to get to know them from a distance . . .’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I try to work out things about them. What kind of music or books they like, whether or not their parents have money. What they don’t want anyone else to know.’

‘Just by looking at them?’

Laura realised how stupid the whole thing sounded. How desperate she must seem, spying on her fellow students in an attempt to make friends.

‘I have to go,’ she said, getting to her feet.

Milla walked back with her. Hedda, Iben’s father and half-brothers and the two police officers were talking at the foot of the boathouse steps. There was still no sign of Jack.

‘Do you know either of the cops?’ Milla asked.

Laura shook her head.

‘OK.’ Milla took Laura by the arm, made her stop by the police car. ‘Tell me something about one of them.’

‘Like what?’

‘Anything at all.’

Laura swallowed. The men were standing ten metres away. Their leather jackets and dark-coloured trousers were almost identical – a kind of uniform that revealed nothing, but she really wanted to show Milla what she could do.

She glanced inside the car. There was a bag on the back seat, and she could see something sticking up out of it. She shaded her eyes with her hand to get a closer look.

‘One of them is going to visit someone in hospital.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘There’s a bunch of flowers on the back seat, and a bag with a women’s magazine in it. And there’s a bulge in the bag that could be a bunch of grapes. Flowers, grapes, magazine – exactly the kind of thing you’d take to someone in hospital. A woman,’ she clarified.

Milla peered into the car, then looked at Laura. Without a word she flipped down her hood and set off towards the little group.

Laura wasn’t sure what to do. She tried not to look at Milla, but she couldn’t help herself. In seconds Milla had completely changed her facial expression and body language. She was nodding and smiling at the two police officers, brushing against the arm of one of them, tilting her head to one side. Even her voice had altered. As if by magic, the Milla Laura had just been talking to had disappeared and been replaced by a different person. She was wearing the same clothes and had the same pink streaks in her hair, but she was still completely transformed. The five men were smiling at her. The only person who didn’t seem entirely amused was Hedda.

After a while Milla turned and came back to Laura. On the way she flipped up her hood, and in that one movement became herself again.

‘You were right.’

‘What?’ Laura was too bewildered to grasp what Milla meant.

‘The flowers, the magazine. The big guy’s wife is in hospital. He’s going to visit her as soon as they’re done here. That’s seriously cool, Laura.’

Laura flushed at the unexpected praise.

‘So what do you know about me?’ Milla challenged her.

Laura had been thinking about that for quite a while, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle. Milla’s cabin, her clothes and possessions. The story of her foster family, the revelation about Peter and Tomas. The information she had seemed to be sprawling in all directions, but after what had just happened with the police officers, she had realised what the pattern was. Or rather – that there was no pattern.

‘You’re good at disguising yourself,’ she said. ‘Playing a role to get people to do what you want.’