The Hidden Child (43 page)

‘Have you heard anything from Frans?’ she asked as she took items out of the refrigerator to make spaghetti and meatballs.

Per didn’t know what to say. All his life he’d been told that he was strictly forbidden to have any sort of contact with his paternal grandfather, yet it was Frans who had intervened and saved the day, or at least given them a glimpse of hope that it could be saved.

Carina noticed her son’s confusion and reluctance to answer. ‘It’s okay. Kjell can say whatever he likes, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome to talk to Frans. As long as you . . .’ She hesitated, afraid to say the wrong thing, something that might upset the tenuous balance that they’d spent the past few days establishing. But then she mustered her courage and went on: ‘I have no problem with you contacting your grandfather. ‘He . . . well, Frans said things that needed to be said. Things that made me realize . . .’ She put down the knife she was using to chop onions, and Per saw that she was fighting to hold back tears as she turned to face him. ‘He made me see that things have got to change, and I’m eternally grateful to him for that. But I want you to promise me that you won’t hang around with . . . those people he’s associating with.’ She gave him a pleading look, and her lower lip began to quiver. ‘I can’t promise you anything in return . . . I hope you’ll understand. It’s so hard. Every day, every minute is hard. I can only promise you that I’ll try. Okay?’ Again that shameful, pleading look.

Per felt the tight knot in his chest start to loosen a little. All these years, the only thing he had wanted, especially right after his father had left them, was permission to be a child. Instead, he’d been forced to clean up her vomit, check to make sure she wouldn’t burn down the house when she smoked in bed, and go out to do all the shopping. He had to do things that no young boy should have to do. All those memories flickered past in his mind. But it didn’t matter. Because the only thing he heard was her voice, her soft, pleading mother’s voice. And he took a step forward and put his arms around her. Nestled against her even though he was almost a head taller than she was. And for the first time in ten years, he allowed himself to feel like a child.

Chapter 34
Fjällbacka 1945

‘Doesn’t it feel wonderful to have a break from work?’ cooed Britta, stroking Hans’s arm. He merely laughed and shook off her hand. After getting to know all of them over the past six months, he was well aware when he was being used to make Frans jealous. The amused look that he received from Frans told him that he, too, knew exactly what Britta was up to. But Hans had to admire Britta’s tenacity. She would probably never stop pining for Frans.

Of course Frans himself was at least partially to blame, since he occasionally encouraged her feelings for him, only to treat her with his usual chilly manner afterwards. Hans thought the game that Frans was playing bordered on cruelty, but he didn’t want to get involved. What did upset him was discovering who Frans was really interested in. He glanced at her as she sat a short distance away and felt a pang in his chest because just at that moment she said something to Frans and then smiled. Elsy had such a beautiful smile. And it wasn’t only her smile that was lovely. Her eyes, her spirit, her pretty arms in the short-sleeved dress she was wearing, the little dimple that appeared to the left of her mouth whenever she smiled. Everything about her, every detail, was beautiful.

They had been kind to him, Elsy and her family. He paid a small, barely adequate amount in rent, and Elof had arranged work for him on one of the boats. He was often invited to join the family for meals – in fact, practically every evening – and there was something about their warmth, their companionship, that filled every nook and cranny of his soul. The emotions that the war had stripped away from him were slowly returning.

And then there was Elsy. Hans had tried to fight the thoughts and feelings that came over him whenever he lay in bed at night and pictured her in his mind. But finally he realized he was hopelessly in love with her. And jealousy stabbed him in the heart every time he saw Frans looking at Elsy with the same expression that he presumably had on his own face.

Britta might not be clever enough to grasp what was going on, but she instinctively understood that she was not the main focus for either Frans or Hans. He knew that this bothered her terribly. She was a shallow, selfish girl, and he really couldn’t think why someone like Elsy wanted to spend time with her at all. But as long as Elsy chose to have Britta around, he would have to put up with her too.

Erik was the person Hans liked the best among his four new friends, aside from Elsy. There was something precocious, something solemn about him that Hans found reassuring. He liked sitting slightly apart from the others and talking to Erik. They discussed the war, history, politics and economics, and Erik was delighted to discover that in Hans he’d found the equal that he’d been longing for. Of course he wasn’t as well-read as Erik when it came to facts and figures, but he knew a lot about the world and about history, and how various things were interconnected. They could talk for hours. Elsy used to tease them, saying that they were like two old men telling each other tall tales, but Hans could see that she was pleased they enjoyed each other’s company.

The only thing they didn’t speak about was Erik’s brother. Hans never broached the subject, and after that first time, Erik never did either.

‘I think my mother will have dinner ready soon,’ said Elsy as she stood up and brushed off her dress. Hans nodded and got up too.

‘I’d better come with you, or she’ll make a fuss,’ he said, looking at Elsy, who merely smiled indulgently and started climbing down from the rocky hill. Hans noticed that she was blushing. He was seventeen, two years older, but she always made him feel like a foolish schoolboy.

He waved goodbye to the others, who remained where they were, and scrambled down the slope after Elsy. She looked both ways before crossing the road and then opened the gate to the cemetery. It was a shortcut home.

‘It’s such nice weather tonight,’ he said, hearing how nervous he sounded. He cursed silently, telling himself to stop acting like an idiot. She was walking quickly along the gravel path, and he trotted behind. After a few steps he caught up and walked next to her, his hands stuffed in his trouser pockets. She hadn’t replied to his comment about the weather, which was a relief because it had sounded so lame.

Suddenly he felt an intense happiness. He was walking alongside Elsy, now and then sneaking a glimpse of her profile. The wind was surprisingly warm, and the gravel on the path made a pleasant crunching sound under their feet. This was the first time in ages that he could remember feeling this way. If in fact he’d ever felt this way before. There had been so many obstacles. So much that had made his chest ache with humiliation, hatred, and fear. He had done his best not to think about the past. The moment that he sneaked on board Elof’s boat, he had decided to leave everything else behind. And not look back.

But now the images came of their own accord. He walked quietly next to Elsy, trying to push them back into the caverns where he had hidden them, but they were forcing their way through the barriers, into his consciousness. Maybe this was the price he had to pay for a moment of such pure happiness. That brief, bittersweet moment. If so, maybe it was worth it. But that didn’t help him now, as he walked beside Elsy and felt all the faces, sights, smells, memories, and sounds descending upon him. Panic-stricken, he felt that he had to do something. His throat began to close up, and his breathing grew fast and shallow. He could no longer hold all the memories back. Nor could he allow them to take him over. He had to do something.

At that moment Elsy’s hand brushed against his. Her touch made him jump. It was soft and electric, and in its simplicity it was all he needed to drive out what he didn’t want to think about. He stopped abruptly on the hill above the cemetery. Elsy was a step above him, and when she turned round, the difference in their height brought her face level with his.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, looking worried. And at that moment he didn’t know what came over him. He stepped towards her, took her face in his hands, and kissed her gently on the lips. At first she froze, and he felt the panic rising inside of him. Then she suddenly relaxed, her lips grew soft against his, and then opened. Ever so slowly she opened her lips, and terrified but excited, he cautiously slipped his tongue in, searching for hers. He could tell that she had never been kissed before, but instinctively her tongue met his, and he felt his knees buckle. With his eyes closed, he pulled away from her, only looking up after a few seconds. The first thing he saw was her eyes. And reflected in them a mirror image of what he himself was feeling.

As they walked home together, slowly, silently, all the images from the past stayed away. It was as if they had never existed.

Chapter 35

Christian was deeply immersed in whatever it was he was studying on his computer screen when Erica came in. She had driven straight to the library from Uddevalla and was still just as bewildered as when she’d left Herman at the hospital. She was convinced there was something familiar about those German names, and she’d written them down on a piece of paper, which she now handed to the librarian.

‘Hi, Christian. Could you see if there’s any information about these two people: Paul Heckel and Friedrich Hück?’ she asked.

As he glanced at the names, she noticed how worn out he looked. Probably just suffering from an autumn cold, or having trouble with his children, she thought, but she couldn’t help worrying about him.

‘Have a seat and I’ll do a search,’ he said.

She sat down, mentally crossing her fingers, but her hopes faded when she saw no reaction on Christian’s face as he examined the results of his search.

‘I’m afraid I can’t find anything,’ he said at last, shaking his head apologetically. ‘Nothing in our archives or databases, at any rate. But you could do a search on the Internet. I suspect, though, that these are rather common names in Germany.’

‘Okay,’ said Erica, disappointed. ‘So there’s no connection between the names and the local area?’

‘Afraid not.’

Erica sighed. ‘Oh, well. I suppose that would have been too easy.’ Then her face lit up. ‘Could you check if there’s anything in the archives about a person who was mentioned in the articles that you found for me last time I was here? We didn’t do a search for him in particular, just for my mother and some of her friends. It’s a Norwegian resistance fighter named Hans Olavsen, and he was here in Fjällbacka . . .’

‘Around the end of the war. Yes, I know,’ said Christian laconically.

‘You know about him?’ said Erica, her eagerness somewhat deflated.

‘No, but this is the second time someone has asked me about him in the past few days. Seems to be a popular guy.’

‘Who else was looking for information about him?’ asked Erica, holding her breath.

‘I’ll have to check,’ replied Christian, rolling his desk chair over to a small file box. ‘He left his business card in case I found out anything more about the boy. If I did, I was supposed to give him a call.’ He hummed softly as he looked through the box, at last finding what he was looking for.

‘Aha. Here it is. It says Kjell Ringholm.’

‘Thanks, Christian,’ said Erica, smiling. ‘Now I know who I have to have a little chat with.’

‘Sounds serious,’ Christian chuckled, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

‘Not really. It’s just that I’m curious why he would be interested in Hans Olavsen.’ Erica was thinking aloud. ‘So did you find anything out about him when Kjell Ringholm was here?’

‘Just the same materials that I gave you last time. I’m afraid there’s nothing more.’

‘All right. Rather lean pickings today,’ said Erica with a sigh. ‘Do you mind if I write down the number from his business card?’

‘Be my guest,’ said Christian, handing her the card.

‘Thanks,’ she said, giving him a wink. He winked back, though he still looked tired.

‘So,’ she said, ‘are you continuing to make progress on your book? Are you sure I can’t help you with anything?
The Mermaid
– that’s the title, right?’

‘Oh, sure, it’s going fine,’ he said, although the enthusiasm in his voice didn’t sound genuine. ‘And yes, it’s going to be called
The Mermaid
. But if you’ll excuse me now, there’s something I’ve got to do.’ He turned his back to her and began typing on the computer keyboard.

Erica was disconcerted at Christian’s attitude. She’d never known him to behave like that before. Oh well, she rallied herself as she walked out of the library, there were other things she had to attend to. And top of the list was a conversation with Kjell Ringholm.

They had agreed to meet out at Veddö. There was little risk that anyone would see them there at this time of year, and if someone did happen to notice them, they would merely take them for two old men having a walk.