Rites of Spring

70

Thea gives David an hour or so to calm down before she calls him. He doesn’t answer.

In the end she goes to bed. She tries to push aside all thoughts of Elita, David and Arne, but it’s impossible. Everything is spinning around in her mind; it stays with her in her sleep.

She dreams of the Polaroid, Elita and the children around the sacrificial stone. The ghostly hawthorn trees behind them are swaying in the wind.

Come to the stone circle at midnight. The spring sacrifice.

‘Wait a minute!’ Elita shouts.

Thea realises that the girl is talking to her. She is the one holding the camera, peering through the little viewfinder. The children in the masks are shuffling uncomfortably. A hare, a fox, an owl and a deer.

‘Pull harder!’ Elita tells them, tugging at the silk ribbons.

The children do as they’re told.

‘Now!’ Elita says to Thea. ‘Take the picture now!’

The next moment everything has changed. It’s night. A fire is burning in the stone circle. The sound of drumming and chanting reverberates from a tape player.

Elita is lying on her back on the sacrificial stone, looking up at her.

‘He’s on his way,’ she whispers. ‘Things have been set in motion, and the Green Man is riding through the forests. Can you hear him?’

Hoof beats are approaching in the darkness.

‘Tell the truth,’ Elita says. ‘Tell them who did it. Who killed me. The strongest love is unrequited love!’

Thea is woken by a sound, and at first she thinks David has finally come home. But it’s Emee, coughing.

She switches on the lamp. The dog is standing by the door; she is retching now, and before Thea can get out of bed Emee has thrown up on the floor.

‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’

Emee tries to walk towards her; she wobbles and falls over. Thea is on her feet in a second. Emee gets up, seems confused. Whimpers loudly. Throws up again.

A sweetish, chemical smell spreads through the room, and Thea recognises it immediately. She’s experienced it before, many times. She grabs Emee’s jaws, forces them apart, sniffs.

Glycol – anti-freeze, no doubt about it. Emee has been poisoned by glycol, which means it’s urgent.

She pulls on her clothes, shouting for David.

No reply.

His bedroom door is open. The room is empty, the bed untouched. She tries his mobile but it goes straight to voicemail. Emee vomits again; she’s finding it difficult to stand.

Thea steers her towards the car and manages to put her on the back seat. She googles the nearest twenty-four-hour veterinary hospital; it’s in Helsingborg, about forty minutes away.

Emee needs help, right now.

Thea jumps in the car, floors the accelerator. The castle is in darkness; David’s car is parked by the east wing. The kitchen door is locked. She hammers on it as hard as she can, shouting his name. She quickly realises that he’s probably sleeping in one of the upstairs rooms, and can’t hear her.

She gets back in the car, drives around to the front. Keeps one hand on the horn, flashes the headlights repeatedly. No response. She calls David’s name over and over again, pointlessly.

A faint whimper from the back seat; Emee can’t wait any longer. They have to go.

Suddenly a silhouette appears from the west wing. It’s Hubert, in his dressing gown and slippers, hair standing on end.

‘What’s going on?’

Thea opens the car door. ‘Emee’s been poisoned – glycol.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know. Something she ate.’

‘Anything I can do?’

‘Have you got any vodka?’

‘Vodka?’

‘I need alcohol – as pure as possible.’

‘I’ve got a bottle of Absolut in the drinks cupboard.’

‘Go and fetch it and get dressed. You have to drive us to the veterinary hospital.’

Hubert nods and runs back the way he came.

Thea takes her medical bag out of the boot and gets into the back seat. Emee lifts her head; she’s been sick again, and the sweet smell fills the car.

Thea digs out a syringe, fits a cannula.

Hubert’s back. He’s put on trousers, his oilskin and wellingtons, but is still in his pyjama jacket. ‘Here!’ He hands her an unopened bottle of Absolut vodka.

‘The veterinary hospital is in Helsingborg, on Bergavägen,’ Thea tells him.

Hubert puts his foot down and the gravel sprays up around the tyres.

Thea opens the bottle, draws a few millilitres into the syringe. Emee weighs about thirty-five kilos; she tries to work out a suitable dose.

‘What are you doing?’ Hubert asks when they reach the main road.

‘Glycol isn’t poisonous until the body’s broken it down. Ethanol prevents that process.’

She decides on the dose and runs her thumb over one of Emee’s front legs, searching for a vein.

‘Can you stop for a second and switch on the internal light so that I can give her an injection?’

Hubert does as she asks. Thea finds a vein, injects what she hopes will be just enough. Emee’s eyelids are growing heavy.

‘OK, go. We’ll have to do this again in about ten minutes.’

Hubert speeds through the night.

‘I’m guessing you’ve done this before,’ he says over his shoulder.

‘We had a few cases in Nigeria. A couple of men who’d bought adulterated moonshine, and a little boy who’d managed to open a bottle of anti-freeze in a garage. Glycol smells and tastes sweet, which is why animals and kids like it.’

‘What happened to them?’

‘The men recovered. They came to us in time, and a grown man is more resilient.’

‘And the boy?’

She doesn’t answer. Hubert understands, and drives even faster.