53

‘I’ve made up my mind, Margaux. I’m tired of running away, tired of hiding. It’s high time I did what you would have done. High time to take the bull by the horns.

‘I’d be lying if I said the prospect doesn’t scare me. Think of me – promise!’

It’s just after five in the morning when she coaxes Emee into the car. She’s left a note for David, telling him she’s meeting an old friend from Doctors Without Borders who’s unexpectedly turned up. He probably won’t be too bothered; he’s completely obsessed with the restaurant, Sebastian, Nettan, and planning for the preview dinner.

It’s still dark, and she drives carefully. A couple of times her headlights are reflected in eyes among the trees – deer, or maybe wild boar. She follows the narrow, winding tracks until she reaches the main road and heads north.

Just after eight o’clock she stops, lets Emee out to stretch her legs, and has breakfast at a café. She smokes a cigarette and texts David to check that everything is OK. Judging by his response, he hasn’t seen through her lie.

She tries to clear her head during the rest of the journey, but it’s impossible. All the different strands come together to form a narrative that plays over and over again as the road signs flash by.

Dad and Ronny, Elita, Lasse and Leo.

David, Nettan, Sebastian and Jan-Olof.

Lola Svart and Leo’s mother, Eva-Britt.

Her own mother. Jocke.

The child she lost.

The child Elita was carrying.

And finally, the person who never really leaves her thoughts.

Margaux. Always Margaux.

* * *

The drive takes just over five hours, as the GPS promised, and it is almost half past ten when she reaches her home village.

The contrast with Tornaby’s neat and tidy appearance is striking. The houses are dotted around in a random fashion; some are so close to the road that the car’s wing mirrors almost scrape against them, while others are much further back. There are FOR SALE signs everywhere; some look pretty old. The coniferous forest is encroaching from all directions, swallowing up the light and spreading its shadow.

She passes her old school. It’s closed down, and seems to be the venue for a flea market on Saturdays and Sundays. The bus shelter opposite has been vandalised.

The ICA mini-market where Ronny used to pinch beer is also gone. All that remains of the village’s shops is a combined petrol station and grocery store. She decides to stop.

PAY FIRST, THEN FILL UP, a cardboard notice above the pump instructs her.

Thea goes inside. A woman in her twenties with long multicoloured nails is standing behind the counter. She’s on the phone.

‘Tell him to go to hell!’ Thea hears her say. ‘He can take his fucking PlayStation and go home to his mummy if it doesn’t suit him. Why should you pay all the bills while he sits at home smoking and wanking while he watches Emmerdale?’

Thea turns away, wanders around the shop until the conversation is over. She picks up an energy drink and a packet of cigarettes.

‘Sorry,’ the young woman mutters as Thea pays. ‘My sister. Her boyfriend is a total fucking loser. Did you want petrol as well?’

Thea nods. The woman is looking closely at her.

‘You’re not from round here, are you?’

‘No.’

‘Lucky you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s just . . .’ The question seems to have embarrassed the assistant. ‘This is such a fucking hole. I can’t wait to get out of here.’

‘I understand.’ Thea takes her purchases. ‘By the way, do you know who Ronny Boman is?’

‘Who the fuck doesn’t?’

‘Does he still live by the old mine?’

She hopes the answer will be no. The woman is looking at her differently now, as if she’s wondering how someone like Thea knows Ronny Boman.

‘He does.’

‘OK, thanks.’

Thea fills up the car, then goes back inside to collect her card. The woman is on the phone again. She barely looks at Thea as she hands over the card, and doesn’t return her goodbye.

* * *

It starts to rain just before she turns onto the dirt road. She doesn’t really recognise the place, which is hardly surprising. It’s many years since she walked along here for the last time, heading for the bus stop. Heading out of here.

The fir trees have taken over; everything is much gloomier than she remembers. The persistent drizzle doesn’t help.

The road slopes gradually downhill and stops after a kilometre or so at a large gravelled area. To the left, surrounded by a rusty wire fence, are a couple of abandoned industrial units that once belonged to the old mine. To the right several brick buildings that once housed offices and accommodation for the workers. Her father owns the lot. He bought them when the mine went bust years and years ago. He probably paid cash.

The collection of buildings is in a dip, with forest all around. The water finds its way down the slope, gathering at the bottom and forming huge brown pools. Sometimes, when it rains a lot, it’s like living by a lake. Or a bog.

Ronny lives in the first house. Two old bangers are parked on the drive; Thea sees a collapsible pool on the overgrown lawn, with a trampoline leaning drunkenly to the side a little further away.

Thea parks behind the other cars, rubs her hands on her jeans to wipe away the sweat. She is greeted by the sound of barking as she approaches the front door. She can hear Emee barking back through the cracked window of her car.

The bell isn’t working, so she knocks instead. Her heart is pounding so hard she can almost feel it through her shirt.

The door is opened by a plump woman of her own age, in a vest top and tracksuit bottoms. Her arms and shoulders are covered in tattoos, and she looks vaguely familiar.

‘Hi – is Ronny home?’

The woman looks her up and down. ‘And who are you?’

Thea takes a deep breath. ‘His sister.’

The woman is clearly taken aback. ‘Jenny?’

Thea nods reluctantly.

‘What the fuck . . . Don’t you remember me? Sofie Nilsson. We used to go into town to nick make-up together.’

Thea forces a smile. ‘Of course.’

‘I didn’t recognise you, Jenny. Look how smart you are! Don’t just stand there, come on in. Ronny!’ Sofie yells over her shoulder.

The house smells of cigarette smoke and fried food. A row of children’s shoes are lined up – surprisingly neatly – inside the door.

‘Ronny!’

‘What?’

Ronny is wearing a lumberjack shirt and scruffy jeans. He hasn’t really changed much, apart from being heavier and greyer. The muscular arms, the sharp nose and the dark eyes remind her of Dad. The scar down one cheek is old, but it’s new to Thea. Combined with the beard, it makes him look like a hard man.

‘Hi!’ she says, managing to keep her voice steady.

Her big brother stares at her for a few seconds, then breaks into a wolfish grin.

‘Well, if it isn’t my missing little sister. How nice to see that you’re still alive.’

* * *

They sit down on the glassed-in veranda. Sofie sets out a bottle of Coke and two plastic glasses, then sensitively withdraws into the house.

‘So you’ve got kids,’ Thea says.

‘That’s right – two with Sofie, and one with Lollo. You remember her? Jocke’s sister?’

‘Of course. I read that he’d died.’

She realises that she’s giving herself away, letting him know that she’s googled them from time to time. However, Ronny doesn’t comment. He merely nods, then takes out tobacco and cigarette papers, starts to roll his own.

‘Thea Lind. Where did you get that name from?’

She would really prefer to get to the point, find out what she has to do to keep the door leading to this part of her life firmly closed, but she decides to play along for a little while.

‘Thea was a girl who helped me revise for my college exams. It was thanks to her I got a place in medical school.’

‘And Lind?’ He licks the paper and seals the cigarette.

‘Another girl who lived on the same corridor as me. Veronica. She also came from the back of beyond and was determined to stay away, like me.’

‘Had she stolen money from her family too?’ Ronny lights the cigarette.

Thea takes a deep breath. It’s just as she suspected.

‘Mum gave me that money. It was her life insurance.’

‘Mm . . .’ He blows out a column of smoke. ‘Three hundred thousand. What did you spend it on?’

‘My education. I rented a little student room in Umeå. Studied at the adult education institute for a year. Lived on noodles, revised like a demon for my exams. Got into medical school by the narrowest possible margin.’

Ronny doesn’t say anything for a moment. He merely carries on smoking, watching her.

‘And now you’re the lady of the castle, married to a restaurant owner.’

‘I work part time as a GP. The castle is David’s project. We live in a little house behind it.’

Ronny takes another drag.

‘We haven’t got any money,’ Thea continues. ‘David’s practically broke. He did some bad deals and had to sell up.’

‘But he owns a castle?’

‘He’s renting it from a foundation. Two of his old school friends are financing the project.’

‘So you say . . .’ Ronny stubs out the cigarette and immediately starts rolling another. Remains silent, letting her squirm.

Frustratingly, it works.

‘Was Dad really angry when I left?’ She doesn’t want to ask the question, yet at the same time she wants to hear the answer.

‘What do you think? You were his favourite. He thought you and Jocke were going to get married and give him grandchildren. Instead you took off with his money.’

‘It was your money and mine too . . .’

Ronny ignores the comment.

‘He looked for you for a long time. That business of getting a protected identity – very smart. He asked all his contacts to keep an eye out for you; he even persuaded a cop to check their database. But it was as if you’d gone up in a puff of smoke. At least until you popped up on TV.’

He grins, lights the second cigarette.

‘What is it you want from me, Ronny?’

He shakes his head. ‘Not me. The old man. He wants to see you.’

‘Now?’ She peers out of the window. The house where she and Ronny grew up is just visible on the edge of the forest.

‘As soon as possible.’ He follows her gaze. ‘He’s not there.’

‘So where is he?’

‘What do you think? In jail. Eight years for serious drugs offences. He’s still got four left to serve – that’s the issue.’

‘What do you mean, that’s the issue?’

‘I’ll let him tell you.’

Ronny looks at his phone. ‘It’s an hour’s drive – you’ll be just in time for visiting.’

Thea wants to protest, explain that she has to get back, that she has absolutely no desire to drive to a prison, or to see her father. But she doesn’t have a choice, and in a way she’s surprised. Why isn’t Ronny angry with her? He used to have a terrible temper, almost on a level with Dad’s. Has he mellowed over the years, or is there something she’s missing?

* * *

It’s still drizzling. She lets Emee out of the car, takes her for a walk along the dirt road, dodging the huge puddles.

Her childhood home is built of grey brick, and backs onto the forest and the slope. The blinds are down, a couple of them hanging askew. The cellar windows have been boarded up, and an old wreck of a car without wheels sits on the drive. A few pieces of plastic garden furniture are sticking up among the knee-high grass, and several planks are missing from the rotting fence.

She stops by the mail box; she doesn’t want to go any closer. The house makes her feel uncomfortable, particularly those boarded-up windows. How many times did Dad lock her in down there in the dark? More than she can count. The smell is still embedded in her brain. Dampness, earth, fear. Sometimes urine. If she stopped crying and kept really quiet, she could hear the faint sound of insects scuttling across the floor. The ones with hard bodies and vibrating wings.

She’d promised herself that she would never come back, and yet she’s standing here. Is it just because she’s afraid of being exposed, caught out having lied about her past? Or is there another reason? Does some small part of her still long for Daddy’s approval, or even his forgiveness?

* * *

Ronny is waiting by her car, wearing a filthy hi-vis jacket. Two dogs are sniffing around him. Scruffy, muscular bodies. Square jaws, short snouts. They race towards her barking wildly as soon as they see Emee.

‘The boys just want to say hello,’ Ronny says.

Emee lies down on the ground and Ronny’s dogs stand over her, legs apart, growling and baring their teeth. Emee presses herself even lower, head down.

Thea hates to see her like that. Diminished, cowed. She tries to push away the two male dogs but the paler one snaps at her. Thea dodges to one side and drops the lead.

Emee leaps to her feet, lets out a kind of roar and attacks the paler dog. The onslaught is so fierce that the animal rolls right over on the gravel.

The darker dog goes for Emee, but she is ready for him. The two of them collide in mid-air, but Emee is bigger and stronger, knocking him over too. He quickly gets up and the two male dogs take up their positions a couple of metres away, hackles raised, but neither dares approach.

Emee has been transformed from a submissive bitch into a predator with bared teeth. There is a look in her eyes that Thea has never seen before. She crouches down, preparing to attack, but at the last second Thea manages to grab her lead.

‘Calm down, sweetheart,’ she says, trying to pull her close.

Emee flatly refuses to move. The muscles in her powerful body are tensed, and a low rumble is coming from deep in her chest.

‘Calm down,’ Thea says again. Emee stops growling, but continues to glare menacingly at the other two dogs.

Ronny hasn’t intervened; he seems faintly amused.

‘Tough chick,’ he says.

‘She doesn’t like being walked all over,’ Thea replies.

Ronny shouts a command, and after a couple of seconds’ hesitation his dogs shamble over to his house and lie down on the steps, keeping an eye on Thea and Emee from a safe distance.

‘I wanted to ask you something,’ Thea says. ‘Did you ever come across a young guy called Leo Rasmussen? He’s from Skåne, three years older than you. He was convicted of murdering his stepsister in 1986. He got six years.’

She knows it’s a long shot, but somehow Emee’s reaction has given her a dose of self-confidence.

Ronny shakes his head. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell.’

‘Do you know anyone who might know something about him?’

One corner of his mouth lifts in a wry smile.

‘I’ve tried to stay on the right side of the law over the past few years; I didn’t want to get dragged into all that again. But you could always ask the old man. He’s got contacts everywhere.’

* * *

Thea puts Emee in the car and gets ready to leave. Ronny’s hard expression has softened.

‘Dad’s ill, Jenny. He’s not like he used to be.’

‘No?’

Ronny shrugs. ‘Not really. I’ll call the prison, let him know you’re coming.’

She wonders whether to thank him, but decides against it. She’s here because he forced her to come; it wasn’t her choice.

‘One more thing,’ he says as she opens the car door. He tugs at his beard, looking indecisive. ‘If he . . . If he gives you too much grief, ask him how Jocke died.’

‘Jocke?’

He nods. For a brief moment she sees the Ronny who built dens and made pine cone animals for her. Then the moment is gone.

‘Drive carefully, sis. Good to see you.’

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