Dead of Winter

27 Winter 1987

It was afternoon when Laura woke up, but she was still tired. She felt drained of both strength and emotion.

There was nothing left of everything she had longed for since the summer. All that remained was betrayal – and lies.

A gentle tap on her door, then her aunt said: ‘You have a visitor.’

Laura wiped her red, puffy eyes with the back of her hand. ‘OK.’

Peter stuck his head around the door. ‘Can I come in?’

She nodded, hiding her disappointment that he wasn’t Jack.

‘How are you feeling?’ he said, sitting down on her desk chair.

‘Like shit,’ she mumbled. ‘This whole winter is shit. Everyone’s lying to me, or keeping secrets. Hedda, Iben and Jack, even you and Tomas.’

Peter’s face flushed red. In a strange way, that made her feel better.

‘I know what the two of you have been doing,’ she went on. ‘Breaking into summer cottages and stealing stuff for Milla. How the fuck did you come up with that idea?’

‘It was Tomas. He wanted to impress Milla. He mows the lawns for some of the summer visitors, so he knows where they keep their spare keys. He said we could just walk in and take what we wanted.’

‘And you didn’t object? You’re just as bewitched by Milla as he is. You look like two lovesick puppies whenever you’re anywhere near her.’

The knot in her stomach loosened slightly; unleashing her anger on Peter was helping.

‘I’m just trying to keep an eye on Tomas,’ he said. ‘Make sure he doesn’t do anything really stupid.’

‘Like what? Is there anything more stupid than breaking into cottages when the owners can easily work out that Tomas knows where the keys are?’

‘There are worse things. Much worse. And much more dangerous.’

Peter looked away.

Words echoed inside Laura’s head. There seems to be a pyromaniac on the loose.

She inhaled sharply.

‘You think Tomas is responsible for starting the fires?’

He still couldn’t meet her gaze.

‘We have to tell Hedda!’

Peter got to his feet. ‘No, we don’t! We can’t do that to Tomas.’

‘Why not? He needs help.’

‘I don’t know for sure that it’s him, but if a rumour starts, then he’s going to get the blame. Don’t you remember what it was like when we were little? Tomas confessed as soon as an adult looked at him – whether he’d done anything or not.’

He came and sat beside her on the bed.

‘If the police question Tomas he’ll confess – you know that.’

Laura nodded slowly. Peter was right.

‘So what do we do?’

‘Like I said, I’m keeping an eye on him. We can’t do anything until we’re certain. Don’t say a word to anyone about this. Promise me, Laura!’