Dead of Winter

5 Winter 1987

‘What a lovely picture – where was it taken?’

The woman in the adjoining seat was pointing to the photograph in Laura’s hand.

Her name was Ewa, with a w, according to the boarding card she was using as a bookmark. The book didn’t have a dust jacket, and Ewa seemed to be at pains to hide the title. It was probably The Valley of Horses, or the latest Jackie Collins.

‘Vintersjön – it’s a lake in northern Skåne.’

Laura and Ewa had ended up side by side when Laura changed planes in Frankfurt. She had observed the older woman discreetly, just as she assessed her classmates every time she started at a new school. Tried to work out who Ewa was by listening and watching. Committing every detail to memory: clothes, accessories, interests.

If they’d been the same age and in the same class, Laura’s next move would have been to sit near Ewa and her friends in the dining hall. Listen to their conversation, smile in the right places, try to be let into the group. Shed the label of ‘the new girl’. Be accepted.

‘That must be your mother.’

Ewa pointed to the woman on the far left.

‘No, that’s my Aunt Hedda.’

‘Oh – there’s definitely a resemblance. You’ve got the same hair colour. I think it’s lovely,’ Ewa added hastily.

Laura didn’t tell her how many times she’d wished she didn’t have red hair. Her mother had even suggested having it dyed so that she wouldn’t be teased in her next school, but Hedda had persuaded her to leave it.

People don’t like anything that’s different, but that just means they’re idiots, not that there’s something wrong with you. You’re perfect as you are. My little princess.

The flight had seemed extra long this time. Admittedly the first film had been Dirty Dancing, which Mum had refused to let her see in the cinema, but the rest of the films had been soooo boring, and even the paperbacks she’d brought with her hadn’t held her attention.

‘Are any of the others your cousins?’

One of the holidaymakers had taken the picture last year, a few days before Laura flew back to Hong Kong. Aunt Hedda, herself and the whole gang out on the pontoon. Summer colours, big smiles, laughter that you could almost hear.

‘Aunt Hedda calls us her children, but she doesn’t actually have any of her own. She was a childminder – she looked after Iben, Peter and Tomas when they were little, and Jack is her foster son.’ Laura pointed to Jack. ‘He’s lived with her since he was eleven.’

Her finger lingered on his face for a second before she moved it to the dark-haired girl in dungarees in the middle of the group, between her and Jack.

‘Iben’s family live at Källegården, next to Aunt Hedda’s holiday village.’

Iben had put her arms around their shoulders, pulled their heads close to hers so that their cheeks were touching.

‘She looks sporty.’

Laura took a closer look at Iben. How she seemed to be pressing herself a little harder to Jack’s cheek than Laura’s. Unintentionally, of course. She’d been telling herself that ever since Aunt Hedda enclosed the photo with a letter.

‘She is. She’s broken almost every school record in athletics. And she got full marks in her standard achievement tests. In every subject.’

‘Wow – that’s impressive.’

Laura quickly moved her finger to the stocky boy with cropped hair who was standing behind Iben and slightly to the side, almost on the edge of the pontoon. He was staring at the ground, as if he wanted to avoid the camera. Some people in the village called Tomas names because of his tics. Sometimes they made sure he could hear them.

‘Tomas lives further away, out in the forest at a place called Ensligheten. He and Peter are best friends. They usually help out in the holiday village over the summer.’ She pointed to Peter, who was next to Tomas. He was grinning, holding his fingers behind her head like bunny ears. ‘They run the kiosk and the minigolf, cut the grass and hire out the boats.’

Laura almost said that Peter called them the Goonies, but she was pretty sure that Ewa had never seen the film. Peter’s uncle owned a video rental store in Helsingborg, and secretly gave his nephew a copy of the latest films when his parents weren’t around.

‘The Lord Jehovah doesn’t like movies,’ Peter would joke. ‘But he has no problem with putting kids in a suit and tie and getting them to doorstep people they don’t even know.’

Peter loved The Goonies.

‘We’re just like them – a gang of outcasts. I’m Mouth, Tomas is Chunk and Jack is Brand. The girls are Andy and Stef . . .’

‘Can I see?’ Ewa put on her reading glasses and Laura handed over the photo. ‘It looks so beautiful, with the lake and the ridge behind it. Absolutely idyllic. Do you go there often?’

‘Almost every school holiday. My dad works very hard,’ Laura added in the apologetic tone that always came creeping in whenever she talked about her father.

‘And your mother?’

‘She’s very busy too.’

Laura didn’t explain, but Ewa seemed to understand.

‘Have the schools in Hong Kong already broken up for Christmas?’

Laura shook her head. ‘No, but I go to an international school. A lot of families go home over Christmas, so we finish earlier and have a week’s less holiday in the summer.’

Ewa handed back the photograph.

‘I can see that you love spending time by the lake. You all look so happy, you and your aunt and your friends. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful Christmas together.’