Dead of Winter

35 Winter 1987

‘We’ll go down to the bathing area beyond the cottage. Leave the mopeds there and walk across the ice. That means we’ll be able to get in at the back without anyone seeing us from the road. Milla’s with me, Laura with Peter.’

Once again Tomas was showing a side of himself that Laura had never seen before. From time to time he would glance at Milla, needing a little nod of encouragement.

The summer cottage he’d picked out was kind of remote, surrounded by trees and facing away from the lake. To be honest, summer cottage was a misnomer. The house was well equipped for winter, with an open fire and a chimney. The snow was regularly cleared from the drive, presumably by one of the Jensen family.

Laura tried not to think about Iben, but it was hard. They hadn’t spoken to each other since the argument at Wohlin’s. Jack was keeping out of Laura’s way too. He was either out in his car, or shut away in the boathouse. He didn’t even come down to join them for dinner as he always used to.

Hedda did her best to make excuses for him, but it was obvious that she too found the situation difficult. The atmosphere at the dinner table was strained.

Iben hadn’t only taken Jack from her and splintered her family; she’d also managed to poison the place Laura loved the most.

They parked the mopeds where Tomas had suggested. Laura took off her helmet and hung it on the handlebars. The sensible part of her wanted to ask Peter if they were really going to go through with this. If the two of them shouldn’t try to call the whole thing off before it was too late, but something made her hold back. A tingling feeling that grew stronger and stronger. It was both appealing and unpleasant. She knew Peter was experiencing the same thing; she’d felt it when she was sitting behind him with her arms wrapped around his waist, and now she could see it in his eyes.

‘Shall we go?’ he said, pointing to the others, who were leading the way. ‘The Goonies on an adventure.’

Dusk was falling. The ice was covered in a thick layer of snow, which the wind was moving around into small drifts. In some places it had exposed patches of black ice.

‘Do you think she can see us?’ Laura whispered.

‘Who?’

‘The nymph, of course.’

They both burst into nervous giggles, which made Tomas turn around.

‘Shut up!’ he hissed crossly. ‘No talking!’

They kept walking as darkness drew in. The wind whipped up little flurries of sharp snow into their faces, and quickly obliterated their footprints. Laura was glad they didn’t have to go any further out onto the lake. It would be very easy to lose your bearings if you didn’t have the shoreline to follow, and the black eye was out there waiting. Ice-cold, deep water that never froze.

Milla waited for Laura, took her arm and slowed her down. Peter raised an eyebrow, but Milla waved him on.

‘You know he’s in love with you, don’t you?’ she said.

‘Who?’ Laura tried to play dumb.

‘Peter, of course. Unfortunately for him you’re not interested, as I’ve already explained to him.’

‘Why?’

Milla shrugged. ‘It’s true, isn’t it? Or are you ready to give up on Jack?’

Laura set off again without answering.

‘I thought not,’ Milla said with a laugh. ‘But don’t worry – Jack won’t be able to take his eyes off you at the Lucia party.’

After about five minutes they reached the jetty belonging to the house – three pairs of concrete posts supporting the walkway, about a metre above the ice.

Tomas continued to take the lead.

‘OK, as I said I don’t know where they hide the spare key – or if there is one. It’s not in the shed where they keep the lawnmower, anyway.’ He pointed to a low wooden building in one corner of the garden. ‘I’ve brought this just in case,’ he went on, producing a hammer from his jacket pocket.

‘We’ll let Laura take a look around first,’ Milla said. ‘She’s good at working people out.’

Laura swallowed. Her plan had been to do a circuit of the house, then say she hadn’t found anything. Get them all to head back to Gärdsnäset without having done anything illegal.

However, Tomas’s hammer changed the situation.

Using a key to enter the house without permission was one thing, a bit like when she’d cleaned the cabins last summer and had taken the opportunity to poke around among the visitors’ possessions. Breaking a window was another matter, a proper break-in that was bound to be discovered and reported to the police.

Milla patted her on the back.

‘It’s all down to you now.’

Laura swallowed again. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Peter shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.

There was a carport at the front, and a small wooden structure with a roof, just big enough for the bins.

‘I’ve already checked in there,’ Tomas said. ‘I felt behind all the beams and pillars you can reach from the ground. I did the same with the house.’

It was clear that he had no faith in Laura’s ability. She had only minutes before he lost patience and insisted on using the hammer. Maybe he was right, maybe there was no hidden key – but she wasn’t prepared to give up before she’d even started.

So, not the carport or the shed. Where did that leave? The jetty? No, nobody would be stupid enough to hide a key near the water. One slip and it would be gone.

She walked around the house, peered in through the windows. The walls looked as if they’d been painted recently, possibly in the summer, and the kitchen couldn’t be very old. These people looked after their property.

‘Are there tools in the shed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Old or new?’

‘Mainly old.’

‘Anything electrical? A drill? A chainsaw?’

‘No, only hammers and nails and a few garden tools. Why do you ask?’

Laura nodded to herself. So the owners weren’t into DIY, yet the inside of the house looked freshly renovated. Therefore, they regularly employed skilled tradesmen, which meant there should be a key somewhere. In a hiding place that was relatively easy to explain to a tradesman over the phone. The conclusion gave her a fresh burst of energy.

‘How’s it going?’ Milla asked. She too was beginning to sound impatient.

‘Give me a minute.’

Laura positioned herself by the front door. On the right was a WELCOME sign with a white goose and the flag of Skåne. Just above the sign was a little half-moon-shaped mark in the façade, where something had scraped against the wood not once but many, many times. She reached out and felt the wood, then the sign. Noticed that there was a screw missing. Her excitement was rising.

The sign was only attached at one side. It could be pushed up, covering the mark on the wood and revealing a metal pipe inserted in the wall.

She pushed her fingers inside and drew out a key.