Rites of Spring

80

Thea runs through the loft, keeping the beam of the torch on her phone in front of her. As soon as Hubert sees that the lights are on and that the table is beneath the hatch, he will know that someone has been there – but not who. Not yet, anyway.

She scrambles back down the ladder into the bridal suite. Jan-Olof is still snoring on the bed. Thea slips on her shoes, puts her phone in her bag and hurries into the bathroom. Her hair is standing on end, her hands and face are streaked with dirt, and the front of her dress is dusty from hauling herself back up into the loft.

She dampens a towel and rubs off the worst of it. Touches up her make-up and tidies her hair. She’s heading for the door when someone grabs her shoulder.

For a second she’s convinced that Hubert has somehow followed her, but it’s Jan-Olof. He stares at her. His eyes are bloodshot, his face puffy.

‘I know what you’re up to,’ he mutters. The alcohol fumes are so strong that she almost has to narrow her eyes.

‘You’re working for him, aren’t you? For Leo. You gave it away the other day. You know him – go on, admit it!’ He pushes his face closer to hers, his expression unpleasant to say the least.

‘I . . .’

Thea searches for a good answer. Jan-Olof seems to have lost his grip on reality. He pokes her in the chest with one finger, shoves her backwards until she bumps into the wall.

She’s getting scared now. The band is still playing downstairs, and she doubts if anyone would hear her if she screamed.

‘Tell Leo . . .’ he hisses. ‘Tell . . .’

His eyes dart from side to side, and suddenly fill with tears. His arms drop to his sides.

‘Tell him I’m sorry. Can you do that? Tell him Jan-Olof is sorry. Tell him I should have told the truth. Can you do that?’

The pleading tone takes her by surprise. He sounds like a little boy.

‘Of course.’ Thea edges towards the door, half-expecting his mood to change again, but Jan-Olof remains where he is, head down, arms dangling. He looks like a great big abandoned child.

She pushes down the door handle and slips out.

When she reaches the ground floor the music has stopped and the guests are moving into the hallway. She sees Per and goes over to him.

‘Thea – there you are. What’s this?’

He reaches out, touches her cheek and then her hair. Holds up a dust bunny between his thumb and forefinger.

She thinks fast.

‘I’ve been helping David bring up some more wine from the cellar.’

He nods, seems to accept her explanation.

All around them people are putting on their outdoor clothes and going out onto the wide area at the top of the stone steps. Per offers Thea her coat. She doesn’t ask what’s going on, but simply pretends she’s fully up to speed as they follow the other guests. When she sees David talking to Little Stefan and the other man who built the bonfire, she no longer needs to wonder. Little Stefan hands a burning torch to David.

A group of around twenty people, presumably from the village, have gathered on the far side of the courtyard.

The waiting staff circulate with glasses of champagne on silver trays. Thea takes one, shares a toast with Per and realises at the same time that Hubert is standing on the steps, watching her. She meets his gaze and raises her glass, gives him a smile that she hopes looks innocent. Hubert’s expression doesn’t change.

David walks up to the bonfire and pushes the torch deep inside. The fire catches so quickly that the wood must be drenched in some kind of accelerant. The Green Man stands motionless as the flames grow bigger.

‘A fascinating ritual, don’t you think?’ Per says. ‘Beneath the civilised surface we Tornaby residents are still pagans.’

Thea murmurs a response. She sees David go over to Nettan who takes his arm, holds onto it, caresses his elbow with her thumb.

The flames are leaping into the air now, licking at the Green Man’s legs as they devour the wood.

Thea glances at Hubert. He is still staring at her.

‘Nature is hungry and the Green Man is riding through the forests.’

‘What did you say?’

Per gives a wry smile. ‘It’s something my dad used to say when I was little. He pretends to be a hard man, but he’s actually very superstitious. We’ve got Green Man figures on both the house and the stables. He makes them himself every year.’

‘Oh yes?’

Thea looks around for Per’s father. Finds Ingrid and Dr Andersson, but no Erik Nyberg. Maybe he and Bertil decided to stay inside instead of facing the chilly evening air.

The fire has begun to consume the Green Man. The fresh leaves shrivel up, exposing the twigs beneath, black lines that show through the flames like a skeleton. Arms, legs, the loop forming the empty face. The crackling becomes a dull, alarming bass note. The people on the steps talk louder and louder, until Thea’s ears are almost hurting, but the fire is louder still. Eventually the conversation dies away.

The Green Man is burning now, the flames reaching up into the sky. They are reflected in the eyes of the watchers on the far side of the courtyard. A loud bang from the bonfire sends a shower of sparks into the night.

Suddenly there is a scream. Thea turns towards the east wing. A window is open on the top floor, eight or maybe even ten metres above the ground. Jan-Olof is standing on the sill, clinging on with one hand as he leans out. One of the spotlights catches him as it sweeps across the façade.

‘Fucking liars!’ he roars. ‘Fucking liars, the lot of you!’

A shocked murmur spreads through the crowd.

‘Come down, Jan-Olof!’ Several voices join in. Per and some of the others begin to run towards the main door.

Jan-Olof isn’t listening. His face is ashen, his hair is standing on end. He is swaying alarmingly. Then he sees Thea. He stretches out his arm, points directly at her. She freezes at the top of the steps.

‘Thea!’ he yells. ‘Tell Leo I’m sorry! Promise!’

She opens her mouth to reply. Say something, anything, to make him get down from the windowsill, but before she can speak, Jan-Olof’s body jerks. He looks over his shoulder into the darkened room as if he’s heard something. He turns, seems to be on the way back in. Then he wobbles. Falls backwards out of the window and lands on the paving below with a horrible thud.