The Quarry

17

‘Pelle?’ Jerry asked, waking up in confusion. ‘Pelle?’

As they left Växjö after being interviewed by the police, his father had fallen asleep. He had slept deeply, mumbling inaudible words, then woken up as they drove into a deserted Kalmar. Per had parked next to the hospital entrance.

‘Pelle?’

‘Everything’s all right, Jerry. We’re in Kalmar.’

He opened the car door. Fresh evening air poured into the car, soothing his lungs. He coughed and turned around. ‘You stay here... I’m just going up to see Nilla. My daughter — do you remember her, Jerry?’

When he saw his father looking at the hospital signs, he went on: ‘She’s just in for some tests. I won’t be long.’

It was half past ten, and every window in the hospital was glowing against the dark sky. Per’s legs were stiff as he got out of the car; he’d been sitting in the same seat for most of the day.

The main entrance was still unlocked, and the glass doors opened silently. He took the lift up to Nilla’s ward without meeting a soul.

The corridor was also deserted, and the door to the ward was closed. He rang the bell and was admitted by a night nurse. She didn’t smile at him, but perhaps she was just tired. It didn’t necessarily mean that Nilla’s condition had worsened.

The door to her room was ajar, and he could hear two voices inside: Nilla talking to her mother.

Per coughed one last time. He had hoped that Marika wouldn’t be there. He knew, of course, that his ex-wife spent every evening with Nilla, but with a bit of luck she might have been somewhere else when he arrived. For a couple of seconds he considered walking away, then he pushed the door open.

Nilla was sitting up in bed with a pillow behind her back. She was wearing a white hospital gown, and a drip had been inserted in her arm. She looked just the same as when he had left her; a little paler, perhaps.

Marika was sitting on a chair next to the bed. The television up on the wall in one corner of the room was switched on, showing a man and a woman screaming and waving their arms at one another in a kitchen, but the sound was turned down.

‘Hello, you two,’ said Per, smiling at mother and daughter.

The conversation had stopped when he came in. It seemed as if Marika had just been joking with Nilla, because she was smiling at her, but the smile died away as soon as she saw Per. It was as if her mask slipped, and she looked very tired.

‘Hi Dad.’ Then Nilla sniffed, her expression surprised. ‘You smell of smoke!’

‘Do I? Really?’

Per’s smile was tense, and he was trying not to cough again. He couldn’t come up with anything sensible to say.

‘What’s happened, Per?’ said Marika. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No, I’m fine... There was a house fire in Småland. I saw it from the car, so I called the fire brigade. And they came and put it out.’

‘Was there anyone in the house?’ said Nilla.

‘There was nobody living there,’ said Per, and quickly went on, ‘So how are you two, anyway?’

‘We’re waiting for the evening rounds,’ said Nilla. ‘And we’re watching TV.’

‘Good.’

Marika got up. ‘I’ll go out, then you two can have a chat.’

‘There’s no need,’ said Per, ‘I was just going to...’

‘It’s OK, I’ll go.’

She walked past him with her eyes lowered and disappeared into the corridor.

Father and daughter looked at one another, and Per realized he should have turned up with something other than smoke-damaged clothes. Chocolate maybe, or a CD.

‘Has Mum been here all the time?’

‘She’s here during the day, but not when she’s sleeping.’ She looked at him. ‘I’ll be going home soon. Won’t I?’

Per nodded. ‘I’ll come and pick you up on Wednesday,’ he said. ‘Then we can celebrate Easter on Öland with loads of eggs. Boiled eggs and chocolate eggs.’

Nilla looked pleased. ‘Chocolate eggs would be good.’

Per went over and gave her a hug, rubbing his cheek on her forehead. It was cool. ‘See you soon.’

As he left the room he realized how stiff his smile had been.

Marika was standing down the corridor a little way off as he gently closed the door. She crossed her arms as he walked towards her, and he stopped three steps away.

‘She seems to be feeling pretty good,’ he said.

Marika nodded. ‘Is Jesper still on Öland?’

‘Yes.’

Per had no intention of going into what had happened during the day, or of mentioning that he had gone to help his father and had brought him back with him. Particularly the latter; Marika wasn’t fond of her ex-father-in-law.

‘I’ll be back on Wednesday,’ was all he said. ‘When’s the doctor due?’

‘I don’t know... Before lunch, I think.’

‘I’ll be here then.’

‘Georg is coming too,’ said Marika quietly. ‘Is that OK?’

‘Of course,’ said Per, adding a lie: ‘That’ll be nice, I like Georg.’

Jerry had got out of the car when Per reached the car park. He was standing with his briefcase under his arm and a cigarette in his right hand. How could he smoke tonight?

‘Don’t light that,’ said Per, ‘we’re going now.’

He opened the car door and got in. All Jerry could do was put the cigarette away and get in beside him. He was coughing.

Jerry didn’t breathe, he wheezed. Since the fire it was worse than ever, but he had always coughed and wheezed. Wrecked lungs and too many cigarettes made him sound more and more like a leaking balloon.

His father had abused his body all his life, thought Per as he drove away from the hospital. But it was Nilla who got sick.

Per pulled up in front of the cottage at half past eleven on Monday night. Casa Mörner was in almost complete darkness; Jesper had switched on only a couple of lights in the hallway and the kitchen.

‘Home?’ said Jerry, looking around.

‘Yes, this is home now,’ said Per, looking over at the cottage. ‘This is where Anita and I used to come in the summer, Jerry, after you left her. Mum couldn’t afford to take us on a proper holiday for a good few years after that. You must know that, surely?’

Jerry shook his head, but his eyes had narrowed. Per knew he had recognized his ex-wife’s name, at least.

He turned off the engine and sighed to himself in the silence. He was very tired, but there was one last meeting to get through this evening. He carried Jerry’s old briefcase into the cottage, and his father followed slowly behind.

‘Hello?’ Per shouted as he walked into the hallway. ‘Jesper?’

The door to his son’s room was open; Jesper was sitting up in bed, absorbed in his Gameboy.

‘What?’

‘Turn that off now. Come and say hello to your grandfather.’

Per sniffed the air. Did his clothes still smell of smoke?

Jesper showed no sign of noticing. He simply got out of bed and walked slowly into the hallway. Per could understand his hesitation; Jerry hadn’t seen his grandchildren for almost ten years. He had never shown any interest in meeting them, and Per hadn’t gone out of his way to arrange it.

‘Hi, Granddad,’ said Jesper, holding out his hand.

Jerry seemed slightly hesitant, then he shook the boy’s hand. ‘Jesper,’ he said quietly. He let go of his grandson’s hand and looked around.

‘Would you like a drink?’ said Per.

Jerry nodded quickly, so Per went into the kitchen and poured him a glass of milk.

When he had settled Jerry in an armchair in front of the television, he went outside to get a last dose of clean air into his lungs. He went over to the edge of the quarry — and stopped dead.

A half-moon was shining over the sound and the quarry was full of shadows, but Per could still see that the flight of steps he and Jesper had built didn’t look right. The blocks of stone near the top had gone.

He fetched a torch and shone it down over the steps.

He was right — the wide blocks had collapsed. A couple had crashed into one another in the fall, and were smashed to pieces.

But the steps had felt perfectly stable yesterday. Who had destroyed them?