The Girl in the Woods. Camilla Lackberg
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she called.
Britta took a dim view of any servant who spoke too loudly. Yet another thing to remember if Elin did not want to fall into disfavour.
‘Märta?’ she called a little louder as she went into the stable.
This was the most likely place to find Märta, but she wasn’t there either. Unfortunately, Elin’s daughter had inherited not only her father’s green eyes, but also his stubbornness. The girl never seemed to listen to her mother’s admonitions.
‘We are here,’ she heard a familiar voice say.
Preben. She stopped abruptly.
‘Come over here, Elin,’ he said kindly from the darkness of the last stall.
‘Yes, come here, Mother,’ said Märta eagerly.
Elin hesitated but then picked up her skirts to avoid soiling the hem with muck from the ground and quickly moved in the direction of their voices.
‘Look, Mother,’ said Märta, awe in her voice.
She was sitting at the very back of an empty stall, holding three kittens on her lap. They looked to be no more than a day old. They were turning their heads back and forth, blind to the world. Next to Märta sat Preben. He too had a lapful of kittens.
‘Truly one of God’s miracles,’ he said, petting a tiny grey kitten.
The creature meowed pitifully, rubbing its head on his sleeve.
‘Here, take one, Mother,’ said Märta, handing Elin a black-and-white spotted kitten that flailed its paws in the air.
Elin hesitated. She looked over her shoulder. Britta would not be pleased to find her and Märta here. And with Preben.
‘Sit down, Elin.’ Preben gave her a small smile. ‘My dear wife is fully occupied with preparations for our grand visitor this evening.’
Still Elin hesitated. But unable to resist the helpless appeal of the black-and-white kitten, she reached out and took it from Märta, then sat down on the straw and set the kitten on her lap.
‘The vicar says I can choose one to be mine, all mine.’
Märta gave Preben a delighted look. Elin glanced at him as well. He was smiling – a smile that reached all the way to his blue eyes.
‘You must baptize the kitten too,’ he said. ‘But as we have agreed, this must be a secret, just between the two of us.’
He held a finger to his lips and gave the girl a solemn look. Märta nodded, her expression equally solemn.
‘I will tell no one. It will be my most precious secret,’ she said, looking at the kittens. ‘That is the one I want.’
She stroked the head of a tiny grey kitten. It was the smallest of the litter. Elin looked over at Preben, trying to shake her head without drawing Märta’s attention. The poor little thing looked so scrawny, she doubted it would survive. But Preben calmly returned her look.
‘Märta has a fine eye for cats,’ he said, scratching the grey kitten behind the ear. ‘I would have made the very same choice.’
Märta gave the vicar a look that Elin had not seen since misfortune had befallen them, and it made her heart ache. Per was the only one who had ever received such looks from Märta. Yet there was something about Preben that reminded her of Per. A kindness in his eyes that was soothing and invited trust.
‘Her name will be Viola,’ said Märta, ‘since violets are my favourite flowers.’
‘A splendid name,’ said Preben.
He looked at Elin. They had to hope the kitten did not turn out to be a male.
‘Märta wants to learn to read,’ said Preben, patting the girl’s blond head. ‘My parish clerk gives the children lessons twice a week.’
‘I do not see what use she would have for that,’ said Elin.
If there was one thing life had taught her, it was that womenfolk did best not to draw attention. Or to entertain great hopes. Disappointment was all they could expect in life.
‘She must be able to read her catechism,’ said Preben, and Elin felt ashamed.
How could she argue with the vicar? If he thought it beneficial or even advisable for her daughter to learn to read, who was she to object?
‘In that case, Märta may attend the lessons,’ said Elin, bowing her head.
She herself had never learned to read. She had managed to handle the repeated catechism questions because she had learned everything by rote.
‘That is decided then,’ said Preben happily, giving Märta one last pat on the head.
He stood up and brushed the straw from his trousers. Elin tried not to look at him. There was something about him that attracted her, and she was ashamed the thought had even entered her mind. Preben was her sister’s husband and the vicar of the church. To feel anything but gratitude and reverence for such a man was a sin, and she deserved God’s punishment.
‘I suppose I had better go in and help Britta with the preparations now, before she runs all the servants ragged,’ he said cheerfully. Then he turned to Märta. ‘Take care of Viola now. You have a good eye for who needs a helping hand.’
‘Thank you,’ said Märta, giving Preben such an adoring look that Elin’s heart melted.
And ached. The longing she felt for Per struck her with such force she had to turn away. Listening to Preben’s retreating footsteps, she banished the memories from her mind. Per was gone. There was nothing to be done about it. She and Märta had only each other now. And Viola.
‘This is a very sad day,’ said Patrik, looking around at his colleagues in the conference room.
No one spoke, no one looked at him. He supposed that, like him, they were thinking about their own children. Or grandchildren.
‘Bertil and I are cancelling all leave. As of now, everyone is back on the job,’ he said. ‘I hope you will understand.’
‘I think I speak for everybody here when I say you couldn’t keep us away,’ said Paula.
‘That’s what I thought,’ replied Patrik, moved by his colleagues’ response. Even Mellberg was eager to get to work.
‘So let’s tend to the practical matters first. I know that several of you have children who aren’t in school at the moment.’
He looked at Martin as he said this.
‘Pia’s parents will take care of Tuva while I’m at work.’
‘Good,’ said Patrik.
Since no one else spoke, he assumed that Paula and Annika had also made arrangements at home. The death of a child took priority over everything else. It was all hands on deck, and he knew they had many hours of work ahead of them.
‘Gösta, how are the parents doing?’ asked Patrik, sitting down in a chair next to the whiteboard at the front of the room.
‘As well as could be expected,’ said Gösta, blinking several times. ‘The pastor came over, and I called in the doctor as well. When I left, both parents had been given a sedative to help them sleep.’
‘Do they have any relatives who can come over?’ asked Annika, who had a big family and was used to having lots of people around, lending their support in a crisis.
‘Eva’s parents are dead. Peter’s parents live in Spain, but they’re on a plane