The Ice Princess. Camilla Lackberg
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She wondered why such a beautiful painting had been put in the back of a wardrobe. Judging from the picture, Alex had nothing to be ashamed of. Her body was just as perfect as the painting. Erica couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was something familiar about it. There was something obvious that she’d seen before. She knew that she had never seen this particular painting, so it had to be something else. The space in the lower right corner lacked a signature, and when she turned it over there was nothing there but ‘1999’, which must have been the year the painting was done. She carefully put the painting back in its place at the back of the wardrobe and closed the door.
She looked around the room one last time. There was something she couldn’t really put her finger on. Something was missing, but for the life of her she couldn’t think what it was. Oh well, it would probably come to her later. She didn’t dare stay in the house any longer. She put back the key where she had found it. She didn’t feel safe until she was back in her car with the motor running. That was enough excitement for one evening. A stiff cognac would soothe her soul and drive off some of her uneasiness. Why in the world had she decided to drive over there and snoop around? She felt like slapping her forehead at her own stupidity.
When she pulled into the driveway at home she saw that scarcely an hour had passed since she left. That surprised her. It had felt like an eternity.
Stockholm was putting on its best face. And yet Erica felt as though a gloomy cloud were hovering over her. Normally she would have been overjoyed at the sunshine that glittered on Riddarfjärden as she drove across Västerbron. Not today. The meeting was set for two o’clock. She had been mulling over things all the way from Fjällbacka, trying in vain to come up with a solution. Unfortunately Marianne had made her legal position very clear. If Anna and Lucas insisted on selling the house, she would have to go along with it. Her only alternative was to buy them out at half the market value of the house, and with the prices that houses in Fjällbacka were bringing, she didn’t have even a fraction of that amount. Of course she wouldn’t be left holding the baby if the house were sold. Her half could bring in as much as a couple of million kronor, but she didn’t care about the money. No money in the world could replace the loss of the house. She felt sick at the idea of some Stockholmer, who thought a brand-new sailor’s cap would transform him into a coastal dweller, ripping out the lovely veranda on the front and putting in a panoramic window. And nobody could say that she was exaggerating. She’d seen it happen time and time again.
Erica turned in at the attorney’s office in Runebergsgatan in Östermalm. The building was magnificent with its marble façade lined with columns. She checked herself in the mirror in the lift one last time. Her attire was carefully selected to fit in with the milieu. This was the first time she had been here, but she could easily picture what sort of attorneys Lucas would hire. In a gesture of feigned civility he had pointed out that, of course, she could bring along her own attorney. Erica had chosen to come alone. She simply could not afford an attorney.
Actually, she had wanted to meet Anna and the children before the meeting, maybe have a bite to eat with them. Despite her bitterness over Anna’s actions, Erica had decided to do her utmost to keep their relationship alive.
Anna didn’t seem to share her point of view, excusing herself by saying that it would be too stressful. It was better that they meet at the attorney’s office. Before Erica could suggest that they could see each other afterwards instead, Anna beat her to the punch and said that she had to rush off and meet a girlfriend after the meeting. Hardly a coincidence, Erica thought. It was obvious that Anna wanted to avoid her. The question was whether it was on her own initiative or whether Lucas refused to permit Anna to meet Erica while he was at work and had no chance to supervise.
Everyone was already there when she came in. They observed her solemnly as she put on a fake smile and offered her hand to greet Lucas’s two attorneys. Lucas merely nodded hello, while Anna ventured a weak wave behind his back. They all sat down and began the negotiations.
The whole thing didn’t take very long. The attorneys explained in a dry and business-like manner what Erica already knew. That Anna and Lucas were perfectly within their rights in demanding the sale of the house. If Erica could buy them out for half the market value, then she was en-titled to do so. If she could not or would not, then the house would be put up for sale as soon as a value was set by an independent appraiser.
Erica looked Anna straight in the eye.
‘Do you really want to do this? Doesn’t the house mean anything to you? Imagine what Mamma and Pappa would have thought if they knew you were going to sell it as soon as they were gone. Is this really what you want, Anna?’
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lucas frown at her emphasis on you.
Anna looked down and picked some invisible flecks of dust off her elegant dress. Her blonde hair was tightly pulled back in a ponytail.
‘What are we going to use that house for? Old houses are just a lot of trouble, and think of all the money we could get out of it. I’m sure that Mamma and Pappa would have appreciated it if one of us took a practical view of the matter. I mean, when would we use the house? Lucas and I would rather buy a summer place in the Stockholm archipelago so we have something closer. What are you going to do with that house anyway?’
Lucas smiled scornfully at Erica as he patted Anna on the back with phoney concern. She still hadn’t dared meet Erica’s gaze.
Once again, Erica was struck by how tired her little sister looked. She was thinner than usual, and the black dress she wore was loose around the bust and waist. She had dark circles under her eyes, and Erica thought she saw a blue shadow under the powder on her right cheekbone. Her rage at the powerlessness of the situation hit her with full force and she fixed her eyes on Lucas. He returned her gaze with composure. Having come directly from work, he was wearing his professional uniform: a graphite-grey suit with a blinding white shirt and a shiny dark-grey tie. He looked elegant and sophisticated. Erica was sure that many women found him attractive. But she thought he had a cruel streak that acted like a filter over his facial features. His face was angular with sharp cheekbones and firm jawline. This was accentuated even more because he always combed his hair straight back from his high forehead. He didn’t look the typical ruddy Englishman; he was more like a Norwegian with light-blond hair and icy blue eyes. His upper lip was curved and full like a woman’s, giving him an indolent, almost decadent expression. Erica noticed that his eyes drifted down to her décolletage, and she instinctively pulled her jacket closed. He registered her reaction, which annoyed her. She didn’t want him to see that he had any sort of effect on her.
When the meeting was finally over, Erica simply turned on her heel and walked out the door without bothering to say any polite words of farewell. As far as she was concerned, everything had been said that could be said. She would be contacted by someone who would come to appraise the house, and then the house would be put on the market as soon as possible. No amount of persuasion had done any good. She had lost.
She had sublet her flat in Vasastan to a pleasant couple studying for their doctorates, so she couldn’t go back there. Since she didn’t feel like setting off on the five-hour drive to Fjällbacka for a while, she parked the car in the garage at Stureplan and went over to sit in Humlegårdsparken. She needed to collect her thoughts. The peacefulness in the lovely park that felt like an oasis in the middle of Stockholm offered just the right meditative atmosphere she needed.
Snow must have just fallen over the city; the grass was still white. In Stockholm, it only took a day or two for snow to turn into a dirty-grey slush. She placed her mittens on a park bench and then sat down on them as protection under her seat. Urinary tract infections were nothing to play around with; that was the last thing she needed right now.
She let her thoughts drift as she watched the crowd of people rushing by on the path. It was the middle of the lunch rush. She had almost forgotten how stressed the mood could be in Stockholm. Everyone was always in a rush, chasing after something they never really could catch. She suddenly longed for Fjällbacka. She probably hadn’t realized how much she had settled in there over the past few weeks. Certainly she’d had a lot to deal with, but at the same time she’d discovered a peace inside herself that