Rites of Spring

83

The taxi drops Thea outside the castle. The courtyard is almost deserted, the fire baskets have burned out, and a pile of glowing embers is all that remains of the bonfire. There is broken glass on the steps.

She finds David in the dining room, sitting with his parents and Arne. He is leaning forward, his eyes are empty. There are still glasses and coffee cups on the table. Thea pauses in the doorway for a few seconds, then goes over to him.

‘I tried to call you. Jan-Olof’s going to be OK.’ She stands behind David, places a hand on his shoulder.

He doesn’t answer; he continues to stare blankly into space.

‘What did Jan-Olof mean when he asked you to tell Leo he was sorry?’ Ingrid demands.

Thea shrugs. ‘I don’t know. He’s got it into his head that I know Leo. Which I don’t,’ she adds quickly.

‘And how did he get that idea?’

‘I haven’t a clue.’

‘When did you speak to Jan-Olof? Arne says he checked on him a couple of times in the bridal suite and he was out for the count.’

‘I . . .’ Thea searches for a reasonable explanation. ‘I went up to see if he was all right, given how drunk he was. He woke up and started rambling about Leo. I’m not even sure he recognised me.’

Ingrid clearly doesn’t believe her.

‘And that guy from the mining company – where does he come into the picture?’

‘Philippe? I really don’t know. He just appeared out of nowhere. As I said before, he’s a patient.’

Ingrid and Arne exchange a long look.

‘You do realise this is all your fault,’ her mother-in-law informs her.

‘My fault?’ Thea instinctively steps back.

‘You’ve destroyed everything. The castle, the restaurant, David’s reputation. Everything.’ Ingrid shakes her head. Thea has no idea what she’s supposed to say.

‘We tried to warn you, Thea. Tried to stop you digging up the past. That wretched little gypsy girl . . .’

‘Her name was Elita,’ Thea says without thinking. ‘Elita Svart.’

Ingrid raises her eyebrows.

‘She was a little gypsy girl who’s been dead for many years, and because of her you’ve thrown away everything we’ve worked for. Opened up old wounds. Driven poor Jan-Olof to try and take his own life.’

‘That’s not what happened. He didn’t jump, he fell. Or—’ She breaks off.

‘We were all there. Don’t try and get out of it,’ Ingrid snaps.

‘I’m not. Jan-Olof lost his balance – or someone pushed him.’

Ingrid holds up her hand.

‘We don’t want to hear any more of your lies. Enough, Thea. Or would you rather I called you Jenny? Jenny Boman?’

Thea’s knees almost give way, but she reaches for the back of a chair and manages to stay on her feet. Arne avoids her gaze; their pact has obviously been broken.

‘You lied to us,’ Ingrid continues. ‘Lied to me and Bertil. And to David.’ She gestures towards her son, who is still staring into space. ‘You deceived him, didn’t tell him who you really are. What he was marrying into.’

‘He wasn’t marrying into anything,’ Thea replies as calmly as she can. ‘I’ve had no contact with my family since I was nineteen. The reason I changed my name and applied for a protected identity was to get away from them.’

Ingrid lets out a snort of derision.

‘As if that makes any difference. You’re still your father’s daughter, regardless of whether you’ve changed your name or not. If we’d known from the start, we would never have let you into our family. Just look at what you’ve done!’ She waves a hand around the messy, deserted room. ‘Your lies have ruined everything!’

Thea has had enough.

‘My lies? What about yours – claiming that Arne was at the stone circle when Elita died? Or the even bigger lie, the one David told the police when he said he was the one who ran back and saw Leo bending over Elita.’

David’s body jerks as if someone has slapped him.

‘It was Jan-Olof who went back, wasn’t it, David? Not you.’

‘I . . .’ David’s eyes dart from Thea to Ingrid and back again.

Ingrid reaches out and pats his arm. ‘You don’t need to say anything.’

‘Your mother’s right,’ Thea goes on. ‘You don’t need to say anything. Jan-Olof has already told the truth. He was the one who saw someone bending over Elita, but he wasn’t at all sure that it was Leo, which is why he didn’t want to say anything when the four of you were interviewed by the police. He wasn’t prepared to support the version you’d agreed on in the bar.’

She pauses, takes a deep breath.

‘But since you were used to being the leader, you took over. You knew you were right. Arne had already told you that it was Leo who was riding the horse. Everyone agreed that it was him, so all you did was help out. But what if you were all wrong? What if it wasn’t Leo?’

Arne shakes his head.

‘It was. I saw him with my own eyes. I nearly ran into Bill when I drove away. Plus Leo confessed.’

‘He was twenty years old. He was interviewed over and over again, deprived of sleep or contact with his family. He was more or less brainwashed.’

Arne shakes his head even more emphatically.

‘Leo’s lawyer was present at every interview. There were no irregularities. And his family took off, left him because they knew he was guilty. Because they didn’t want to get dragged into his mess.’

‘How come you’re so invested in this story, Thea?’ Ingrid asks. ‘Explain it to me. Because the only reason I can think of is that you’re in league with Leo. That he’s somehow out for revenge.’

‘Revenge for what?’ Thea snaps back. ‘For the fact that you framed him for a crime he didn’t commit?’

‘Stop it! Stop it, all of you!’ David is on his feet. His face is chalk-white, his eyes black.

‘I don’t want to hear one more word about Elita Svart. Ever. And you,’ he points to Thea, ‘you can go to hell. Take your fucking theories and all the crap you own and get out of here.’

His voice breaks as he turns and runs towards the kitchen door.

‘David!’ his mother calls after him. ‘David!’

There is total silence in the room for a few seconds, then Bertil says: ‘Poor boy. That poor, poor child.’