The Drowning. Camilla Lackberg
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we’ll work something out. The trousers you have on look fine, and I think I have a shirt that might fit you. It’s a little too big for me, at any rate.’
Anna reached for an embroidered lavender tunic hanging in the wardrobe. Erica took off her T-shirt and pulled the tunic over her head with Anna’s help. Getting it down over her stomach was like stuffing a Christmas sausage, but she managed it. Then she turned towards the mirror and stared at herself with a critical expression.
‘You look fantastic,’ Anna said, and Erica grunted in response. With her present figure, ‘fantastic’ sounded way beyond reach, but at least she looked decent and as if she’d made an effort.
‘It’ll do,’ she said. She tried to take the tunic off by herself, but had to give up and let Anna help her.
‘Where’s the party?’ Anna asked as she smoothed out the tunic and put it back on the hanger.
‘At the Grand Hotel.’
‘Nice of the publisher to throw a launch party for a first-time author,’ said Anna, heading for the stairs.
‘The company is really enthusiastic about the book. And the advance orders are incredibly good for a first novel, so they’re more than happy to host a party. There seems to be plenty of support from the press as well, according to what I’ve heard from the publisher.’
‘So what do you think of the book? I assume you like it, or else you wouldn’t have recommended it to your publisher. But how good is it?’
‘It’s …’ Erica pondered what to say about the book as she cautiously made her way down the stairs, following her sister. ‘It’s magical. Dark and beautiful, disturbing and powerful and … well, magical is the best word I can think of to describe it.’
‘Christian must be over the moon.’
‘Yes, I suppose he is.’ Erica sounded a bit doubtful as she went into the kitchen. Knowing where everything was, she went straight for the coffee-maker. ‘At the same time he seems …’ She stopped talking so she wouldn’t lose count as she spooned coffee into the filter. ‘He was ecstatic when his book was accepted for publication, but I get the feeling the writing process has stirred up something for him. It’s hard to say, because I don’t really know him that well. I’m not sure why he asked me for advice, but I was happy to help. And I do have a lot of experience when it comes to editing manuscripts, even though I don’t write novels. At first everything went smoothly, and Christian seemed open to all my suggestions. But towards the end he would sometimes withdraw when I wanted to discuss certain issues. I can’t really explain it. But he is a bit eccentric. Maybe that’s all there is to it.’
‘Then I suppose he found the right profession,’ said Anna solemnly.
Erica turned to face her. ‘So now I’m not only fat but eccentric too?’
‘And don’t forget absent-minded.’ Anna nodded towards the coffee-maker that Erica had just turned on. ‘It helps if you put water in it first.’
The coffee-maker puffed in agreement, and with a stern look at her sister Erica shut it off.
Moving as if on automatic, she took care of all the usual household chores. She put the dishes in the dishwasher after rinsing off the plates and cutlery. She cleaned the food scraps out of the plughole with her hand and scrubbed the sink with the dish brush and soap. Then she wet the dishcloth, wrung it out, and wiped the kitchen table to remove any remaining crumbs and sticky spots.
‘Mamma, can I go over to Sandra’s?’ Elin asked as she came into the kitchen. The defiant look on the fifteen-year-old’s face showed that she was resigned in advance to hearing a negative response.
‘You know you can’t do that. Grandpa and Grandma are coming over tonight.’
‘But they come over so often. Why do I have to be here every time?’ Elin’s voice rose, taking on the whiny tone that Cia couldn’t stand.
‘You and Ludvig are who they want to see. You know they’d be disappointed if you weren’t here.’
‘But it’s so boring! And Grandma always starts crying, and then Grandpa tells her to stop. I want to go to over to Sandra’s house. All my friends are going to be there.’
‘Now you’re exaggerating,’ said Cia, rinsing out the dishcloth and hanging it over the tap. ‘I doubt they’ll “all” be there. You can go to Sandra’s some other night, when Grandma and Grandpa aren’t coming to visit.’
‘Pappa would’ve let me go.’
Cia’s lungs seemed to constrict. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t handle the anger and defiance right now. Magnus would have known how to deal with things. He would have handled the situation with Elin. But she couldn’t do it. Not by herself.
‘Pappa isn’t here now.’
‘So where is he?’ Elin shrieked, and the tears began to flow. ‘Where did he go? He probably just got tired of you and your nagging. You … you … bitch!’
Utter silence settled over Cia’s mind. It was as if all sound vanished and everything around her was transformed into a grey fog.
‘He’s dead.’ Her voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere else, as if a stranger were speaking.
Elin stared at her.
‘He’s dead,’ Cia said again. She felt strangely calm, as if she were hovering above herself and her daughter, peacefully observing the scene.
‘You’re lying,’ Elin said, her chest heaving as if she had run several miles.
‘I’m not lying. That’s what the police think. And I know it’s true.’ When she heard herself say the words, she realized how true the statement was. She had refused to believe it, clinging to a faint hope. But the truth was that Magnus was dead.
‘How do you know that? How do the police know?’
‘He wouldn’t just leave us.’
Elin shook her head as if to prevent the idea from taking hold. But Cia saw that her daughter knew it too. Magnus would never simply up and leave them.
She took a few steps across the kitchen floor and put her arms around her daughter. Elin stiffened, but then relaxed and allowed herself to be embraced, as if she were a little child. Cia stroked Elin’s hair as the girl sobbed harder.
‘Hush now,’ Cia whispered, feeling her own strength grow as her daughter surrendered to grief. ‘You can go to Sandra’s this evening. I’ll explain to Grandma and Grandpa.’
Christian Thydell looked at himself in the mirror. Sometimes he really didn’t know how to relate to his own appearance. He was forty years old. Somehow the years had raced by, and he found himself gazing at a man who was not only grown up but who had even begun to go grey at the temples.
‘How distinguished you look.’
Christian jumped as Sanna appeared behind him and put her arms around his waist.
‘You scared me. Don’t sneak up on me like that.’ He extricated himself from her embrace and caught a glimpse of her disappointed expression in the mirror before he turned round.
‘Sorry.’ She sat down on the bed.
‘You look lovely too,’ he said, and felt even guiltier when he saw how the compliment made her eyes light up. But he also felt annoyed. He hated it when she acted like a little puppy wagging its tail at the slightest attention from its master. His wife was ten years younger, but sometimes it felt as if there were at least twenty years between them.
‘Could you help me with my tie?’ He went over to Sanna, who got up and knotted it expertly. It was perfect on the first try, and she took a step back to inspect her work.
‘You’re going to be a big hit tonight.’
‘Mmm