Rites of Spring

49

The rest of the afternoon passes in a fog. David comes home, they change their clothes, get in the car, drive to David’s parents. It’s as if Thea is observing the whole thing from the outside.

All her defences have been torn down – because of a stupid TV feature. The latest in a series of very bad decisions she’s made over the past year.

She shouldn’t have married David, shouldn’t have moved down here, shouldn’t have stood there on the castle steps, shouldn’t have let herself be persuaded to appear on camera.

‘Are you OK?’ David asks as they arrive. ‘You’re very quiet.’

‘I’m just tired.’

‘We don’t have to go in if it’s too much for you. Do you want me to take you home?’

He sounds as if he means it, and she fights the urge to say yes.

‘No, it’s fine. I’ll feel better when I’ve had something to eat.’

They greet David’s parents. Thea has to force herself to hug her mother-in-law. This is all Ingrid’s fault: the move, the restaurant, the TV feature. It was all her idea.

But you went along with it. For David’s sake . . .

She would like to tell Margaux to shut up. In fact, she would like to tell them all to shut up so that she can sort out the mess inside her head.

Just as David had said, Nettan is there. She’s a smart woman, she’s worked all over the world, and she’s both friendly and polite. Thea does her best to be present and friendly in return, and yet there is immediately a tension between them. Perhaps it’s because Nettan calls David’s parents Aunt Ingrid and Uncle Bertil. Or because she touches David’s arm in a special way from time to time.

David notices the strained atmosphere, flaps around them in a way that Thea doesn’t like.

‘I’m sorry if I stole David away from you the other day,’ Nettan says. ‘I could have taken a taxi, but he insisted on picking me up from Kastrup.’

‘No problem,’ Thea mutters. She is trying to be pleasant, but it’s difficult. Her head is spinning, not only because of the letter, but everything she’s read over the past few days. Every time she looks at Nettan, she can hear the twelve-year-old girl’s voice in the interviews.

‘Do you often visit Tornaby?’ she manages to ask.

Nettan shakes her head. ‘No. My father died a while ago, and by then he and my mother had already moved to Malmö. This is the first time I’ve been back for years. I couldn’t wait to get away, for various reasons.’ She pulls a face which is hard to interpret. ‘Mum lives with me in Switzerland now; she helps out with the children when I’m away.’ Nettan takes a sip of her drink. ‘How about you? How are you finding life out here?’

‘Good,’ Thea replies.

Nettan leans a little closer. ‘You don’t have to be polite. David’s told me about your travels. You’re restless, just like me. It’s difficult to stay in one place for very long. So why would you want to settle here, in the middle of nowhere?’

The comment surprises Thea. It seems honest rather than snide.

‘I . . . I’ve grown tired of going from one place to another.’

‘Grown tired?’ Nettan raises an eyebrow. ‘Is that possible?’ She leans even closer, lowers her voice. ‘I mean, don’t misunderstand me. David’s a good guy, but neither of you should be here. There’s still a lot of old crap bubbling away beneath the surface. More than you can imagine. You need to be careful.’

‘Careful about what?’ David appears from nowhere.

‘Oh, nothing. Thea and I were just chatting,’ Nettan says. ‘If you’ll excuse me I’m going to top up my drink.’

David’s Uncle Arne has also been invited, presumably to even up the numbers. He’s dressed for the occasion; he’s wearing a scarf with his shirt and jacket, his moustache is neatly trimmed, and he smells of aftershave. He glides over to Thea and David in a way that is presumably meant to convey self-confidence.

‘So have you settled in, Dr Lind? Worked out who has piles and who suffers from erectile dysfunction?’

‘Absolutely. Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me.’

She doesn’t know why she says that. Maybe because the part of her brain that normally filters her behaviour is otherwise occupied.

Arne stiffens, then bursts out laughing.

‘Your wife is very funny, little David,’ he says, thumping his nephew on the back. ‘You hang onto her!’

David smiles, but Thea can see that the comment irritates him. He doesn’t like being called little David, doesn’t want to be reminded of the person he was. Nor does she.

She can’t stop thinking about the letter. Her father wants her to come home. What happens if she doesn’t go? Dare she even contemplate that idea?

Bertil is having a pretty good day – possibly because of his new medication.

He joins in the conversation over pre-dinner drinks, remembering names and places. Thea hasn’t seen him since the incident in the forest, but neither Bertil nor anyone else mentions it. At one point he gently pats her on the back and gives her a little smile, which is presumably a silent thank you.

After their drinks they sit down at the table. The food is delicious as always, and David has brought several bottles of wine from the castle. Ingrid gives Arne a meaningful look every time he refills his glass; Thea is keeping an eye on him too. He’s trying to charm Nettan, telling her stories about his police work that become more and more detailed as his wine consumption increases. He ignores his big sister completely. The interaction – or lack of it – between the two of them is actually quite entertaining, and makes Thea forget the letter for a little while.

‘So when’s the big day?’ Arne asks when he finally reaches the end of a lengthy tale about a huntsman, a dog with diarrhoea and a bullet that accidentally hits a windscreen.

‘You mean the launch?’ David says. ‘End of May, but we’re having a dinner on Walpurgis Night. The first test, so to speak.’

‘When’s Sebastian arriving?’ Nettan wants to know.

‘He had a meeting in London, but his flight lands first thing tomorrow morning. He’ll be here in time for lunch.’

‘Sebastian has done very well,’ Ingrid says, half-turning towards Bertil. ‘He started a technology company when he left university, remember? He has over a thousand employees right across the world.’

‘Of course I remember.’ Bertil sounds slightly offended. ‘How are his parents?’

‘They moved to Helsingborg, then home to Poland when Pawel retired,’ Ingrid says. ‘Sebastian bought them a big house by the sea. I’m friends with them on Facebook. Theresa’s still hoping for grandchildren, but Sebastian isn’t ready to settle down.’

‘Am I invited?’ Arne fills his glass over-enthusiastically, splashing red wine onto the cloth. ‘To the Walpurgis Night dinner?’

David shuffles uncomfortably, exchanges a glance with his mother, who comes to his rescue.

‘David didn’t think it would be your kind of thing, Arne.’

‘Not my kind of thing? A dinner with good food and expensive wines?’ He points unsteadily at David. ‘Tell the truth – you’re afraid I’ll show you up in front of all your fine friends.’

David shuffles again. Ingrid opens her mouth, but Arne silences her with a gesture. His eyelids are heavy, his face red and puffy.

‘No, let the boy answer for himself. Why am I not invited? After everything I’ve done for you? It’s thanks to me that the two of you and that poverty-stricken little Pole ended up with such successful lives.’

He wags his index finger at David, then at Nettan.

‘If Uncle Arne hadn’t stepped in and sorted things out that night . . .’

‘Shut the fuck up, Arne!’

‘What?’ Arne jerks back as if he’s been punched in the face.

‘Shut the fuck up, you stupid bastard!’ Bertil’s voice is rough, the look in his eyes ice-cold.

Arne blinks a couple of times, stares blankly at Bertil, then his sister.

‘I was just having a little joke with the boy, Bertil. You know I’d never . . .’

He clears his throat, looks away. Bertil is still staring at him. Ingrid places a hand on her husband’s arm.

‘Of course you’re welcome at the dinner, Arne,’ she says. ‘Our family sticks together, isn’t that right?’

She smiles at Bertil, squeezes his arm. After a couple of seconds his expression softens.

‘Of course, of course,’ he murmurs.

They have coffee and cognac in the library. Bertil shows Nettan his bridge trophy; she pretends to admire it, just as Thea did. Thea is trying to stop studying the other woman, but Nettan touched on a sore point earlier.

Is she really intending to stay here with David forever, give up travelling for good?

And what did Nettan mean when she told her to be careful?

Arne still looks cowed. He glances at Bertil from time to time, clearly embarrassed. Thea is about to go over and talk to him when David slips an arm around her waist.

‘Feeling better?’

‘Definitely.’

‘Good . . .’ David sounds as if he doesn’t believe her. ‘Sorry about that business with Arne. You have to take whatever he says with a pinch of salt. He’s a bit too fond of . . .’ David pretends to drink from an invisible glass.

‘Well, your dad certainly put him in his place,’ she says.

David laughs. ‘Yes, Dad’s always kept an eye on Arne. He was the one who got him into the police back in the day, otherwise God knows what would have happened to him.’

‘What do you mean?’

David shrugs. ‘He used to get into trouble when he was a teenager, but Dad sorted him out. He’s always been something of a father figure to Arne.’

Thea glances at Arne. He’d come rushing over to the lodge the other morning, treated Bertil with a kind of respectful reverence that can be seen in his anxious glances this evening. He’d probably do anything for Bertil, just as Ronny would for their own father.

Dad wants you to come home. Right now.