‘I’ll go upstairs and look in on them for a minute,’ said Patrik. Ever since the twins had come home from the hospital, he’d gotten used to having them always within sight. While he was at work, he’d felt a terrible longing to see them.
He went upstairs to the bedroom. They hadn’t wanted to separate the two boys, so they slept in the same cot. Right now they were so close that their noses touched. Noel’s arm was draped over Anton, as if protecting him. Patrik wondered what their roles would be. Noel seemed a little more demanding, a little louder than Anton, who could best be described as content. As long as he got enough food and was allowed to sleep when he was tired, they never heard anything but delighted prattle from him. Noel, on the other hand, would utter loud protests if he wasn’t happy about something. He didn’t like being dressed or having his nappy changed. Worst of all was being bathed. Judging by his screams, he seemed to think that water was life-threatening.
Patrik stood for a long time leaning over their cot. Noel and Anton were both sound asleep, their eyelids fluttering faintly. He wondered if they were dreaming the same thing.
Nathalie sat on the steps in the fading sunlight as she watched the boat approach. Sam had already fallen asleep. Slowly she stood up and walked down to the dock.
‘Permission to come ashore!’
His voice sounded familiar, and yet different. She could tell that he’d been through plenty since they’d last met. At first she wanted to shout: ‘No, don’t come ashore! You don’t belong here any more.’ Instead, she caught the line he tossed her and out of habit tied a double half-hitch to moor the boat. The next second he was standing on the dock. Nathalie had forgotten how tall he was. She was used to being about the same height as most men, but she’d always been able to press her head against his chest. That was one of the things that Fredrik had teased her about – the fact that she was at least an inch taller than he was. She had always been forced to wear flats whenever they went anywhere together.
Don’t think about Fredrik right now. Don’t think about …
She found herself in his arms. She didn’t quite know how that happened, or who took the first step. All of a sudden his arms were around her, and his rough sweater was scratchy against her cheek. Drawn into his embrace she felt safe, and she breathed in his familiar scent, which she hadn’t smelled for so many years. Matte’s scent.
‘Hi, Nathalie.’ He hugged her even harder, as if trying to keep her from falling, and he succeeded. She wanted to stay there for ever, touching everything that had been hers so long ago but that had vanished in all the confusion of darkness and desperation. Finally he released her, holding her away as he studied her face, as if seeing it for the very first time.
‘You look just the same,’ he said. But Nathalie could see in his eyes that it wasn’t true. She wasn’t the same; she was someone else. It was evident in her face, in the lines etched around her eyes and mouth, and she knew that he could tell. She loved him for pretending otherwise. He’d always been so good at that – at pretending bad things would go away if only you closed your eyes tight enough.
‘Come on,’ she said, holding out her hand to him. He took it, and then they walked up to the house.
‘The island looks the same as always.’ The wind snatched at his voice, carrying it out over the cliffs.
‘Yes. Here, nothing has changed.’ She wanted to say more, but Matte stepped inside. He had to duck as he went in the door, and then the moment was gone. That was how things had always been with Matte. She could remember words that she’d carried inside her and wanted to say to him, but they had refused to come out, rendering her mute. And making him sad. She knew that. Sad that she shut him out whenever the darkness descended.
She couldn’t let him in now either, but she could allow him to sit here in the house with her. At least for a while. She needed his warm presence. She had been frozen for so long.
‘Would you like some tea?’ She took out a saucepan without waiting for him to reply. She needed to keep busy in order not to reveal that she was shaking.
‘Sure, that would be nice. Where have you put that little man of yours? How old is he now?’
She gave him an enquiring look.
‘Mamma and Pappa have kept me up-to-date,’ he said with a smile.
‘He’s five. And he’s already asleep.’
‘Ah.’ He sounded disappointed, and that warmed her heart. It was important to her. She had often wondered what things would have been like if she’d had Sam with Matte instead of with Fredrik. Only in that case, he wouldn’t have been Sam but some other child. And that was impossible to imagine.
She was glad that Sam was asleep. She didn’t want Matte to see him the way he was now. But as soon as he was feeling better, she would introduce Matte to her little boy, whose brown eyes were always so filled with mischief. If only the mischief would return, then all three of them could spend time together. She looked forward to that.
They sat in silence for a while, sipping the hot tea. It was odd to feel like strangers, to know that they had let the passing of time bring them to this state. Then they started talking. It wasn’t easy, because they were not the same people they used to be. Slowly they fell into a familiar rhythm that had been theirs alone, and they were able to strip away all that the years had placed between them.
When she took his hand and led him upstairs, it felt as if everything was as it should be. Afterwards, she fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her and his breath in her ear. Outside she could hear the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.
Vivianne spread a blanket over Erling. The sleeping pill had knocked him out, as usual. He’d started to wonder why he fell asleep on the sofa every evening, and she knew that she had to be careful. But she could no longer stand lying next to him, feeling his body touching hers. She couldn’t do it.
She went into the kitchen and tossed the shrimp shells into the rubbish. Then she rinsed off the plates and put them in the dishwasher. There was a little wine left, so she poured it into a fresh glass and went back to the TV room.
It was so close now, and she was beginning to get nervous. Over the past few days it had seemed as if the fiction they had so carefully constructed might collapse. Only one small part had to shift for the whole thing to come tumbling down. She knew that. When she was younger, she’d found a certain perverse enjoyment in taking risks. She had loved the feeling of teetering on the edge of danger. Not any more. It was as if the older she got, the stronger her yearning for security became, the desire to lean back and not have to think. And she was sure that Anders felt the same way. They were so alike and knew what the other one was thinking without saying a word out loud. It had always been that way.
Vivianne lifted the glass to her lips but paused for a moment when she smelled the wine. The scent brought back memories of events that she had sworn to forget. It was all so long ago. She had been a different person, someone she could never be again, not under any circumstances. She was Vivianne now.
She knew that she needed Anders to keep her from falling again, sliding down into that dark hole of memories that made her feel sullied and small.
Giving one last glance at Erling lying on the sofa, she grabbed her jacket and went out. He was sleeping soundly. He wouldn’t miss her.
FJÄLLBACKA 1870
When Karl proposed to her, Emelie was in seventh heaven. She could never have imagined that such a thing would actually happen, even though she’d dreamed about it. During the five years that she’d worked as a maid on his parents’ farm, she had often fallen asleep with the image of Karl’s face in her thoughts. But he was far beyond her reach, and she knew it. Edith’s sharp rebukes had also chased away the last of her dreams. The farmer’s son was not about to marry the maid, not even if she was in the family way.