The Key (30 page)

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Authors: Sara B. Elfgren & Mats Strandberg

BOOK: The Key
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‘Kevin is held on suspicion of aggravated damage to property and has confessed,’ Patricia says. ‘Robin and Erik are held on suspicion of aggravated damage to property and attempted murder. Erik denies the charges. But I wouldn’t be too worried about that, if I were you.’

She smiles. Just a little. But it is enough.

‘Why do you think they wanted to destroy your flat?’ Patricia continues.

Linnéa gets hold of the glass of water again. It will buy her time. She mustn’t give anything away. Her head feels dull and her thoughts move so slowly. Of course Helena had given the order. But she isn’t meant to know anything about that. She swallows. Puts the glass down.

‘I don’t know exactly what they were after. But they were members of Positive Engelsfors, and I was openly anti-PE.’

‘Earlier, you said that it wasn’t the first time Erik and Robin had gone for you,’ Patricia says. ‘What were these previous occasions?’

Where to start? Which of the thousands of times that they had shouted things after her, threatened her, smashed her stuff, grabbed her and held her, hit her?

‘Does it matter?’ Linnéa asks. ‘I mean, could it affect the case against them?’

‘Absolutely,’ Patricia replies. ‘The issue here is whether they acted with intent. If their acts were premeditated or on an impulse.’

‘Does it mean that every single thing they’ve done to me … that they all count?’

Patricia looks seriously at Linnéa.

‘Yes, indeed, Linnéa,’ she says. ‘Every single thing counts. Every little thing.’

36

Minoo opens the packet of quinoa and pours the contents into the sieve. Dad is dashing about in the kitchen and tries to avoid stumbling on Peppar. A powerful smell of onion is rising from the bowl of gazpacho.

They have tuned in to the local radio station and the programme presenter is talking about the continued electrical problems in Engelsfors and how the mysterious related accidents might have contributed to the marked increase in people leaving town over the past year. Furious listeners phone in and rant.

‘How many more victims have to die before the authorities pay attention?’ demands an anonymous woman who sounds suspiciously like Kerstin Stålnacke.

Minoo wonders how quickly people would be leaving town if they knew the real reason for the problems.

If the rumour that the end of the world is near started doing the rounds

well, you can imagine what would follow
.

The presenter changes the subject and starts a discussion about the video clips of what happened in the assembly hall today. The clips have already attracted tens of thousands of hits. Minoo wonders how Linnéa is feeling. How the interrogation went. When a listener phones to agonise about what will happen to ‘the poor boys’, Minoo quickly switches to another station.

Mechanically, she washes the quinoa under the tap. Her shoulders feel tense. She must be prepared. Any time now the memories might come back to haunt her. The events she saw inside the heads of Erik, Robin and Kevin. Any time soon, these repulsive images are going to leap into her mind.

She tries to comfort herself by saying that it was worth it. She has helped Rickard. She phoned him as soon as she could, told him what had happened and assured him that nobody would point the finger at him. Rickard was silent for a long time and then he thanked her. It was heart-warming to hear the relief in his voice.

Yes, she thinks, it was a good thing to do. But if I were truly good, would I be hoping that Rickard tells Gustaf as soon as possible?

Minoo pours the quinoa into a saucepan and measures out the water. She glances through the window. The sun is shining as if the storm had never been. Anna-Karin is in the garden, wiping the rain off the garden furniture.

When she comes inside, she looks around uncertainly.

‘What would you like me to do now?’

‘It’s cool,’ Minoo says. ‘We’re fixing the rest.’

Anna-Karin leaves the kitchen and disappears upstairs. Minoo wonders how much time it will take before she stops behaving like an acquaintance on a visit.

‘Damnation,’ Dad curses as the metal ring on the tin of chickpeas breaks. He finds a tin opener in a drawer.

‘How late did your Mum say the train was?’

‘About half an hour,’ Minoo replies. She puts the saucepan on the heat.

Robin and Erik’s memories haven’t swallowed her up yet, not even when she was telling Mum about the events in the assembly hall.

Maybe I have more control now, Minoo thinks.

She goes upstairs to change, feeling a small flicker of hope.

* * *

Linnéa wakes up as suddenly as she had fallen asleep.

As soon as Patricia and Diana left, she had put her head down on the sofa cushions and gone out like a light. Now, she is wide awake. She sits up and realises that Vanessa has spread a blanket over her. Linnéa folds it and puts it away.

Vanessa comes in from the bathroom.

‘How are you?’ she asks.

‘I’m not sure,’ Linnéa replies honestly.

She is drained of feelings. It seems as if she might never feel anything ever again. Vanessa sits down close to her.

‘I felt some of what you went through.’

‘I didn’t mean to make you.’

‘I want to share everything with you, not just the good bits,’ Vanessa says. She places her hand on Linnéa’s knee.

She has changed into trousers and sweatshirt and washed off her make-up. Now she sits quietly, screwing up her eyes against the evening sunlight that pours in through the windows.

It is the last day of term. Vanessa shouldn’t be sitting around in this depressing flat, keeping company with her depressed girlfriend. Besides, Linnéa doesn’t want to stay here either. She wants to go out.

‘Are we going to Olsson’s Hill, or what?’

Vanessa just stares at her.

‘Aren’t the others waiting for us?’ Linnéa asks.

‘Do you really want to go?’

‘I do. I don’t want to sit here and hide.’

* * *

Anna-Karin pulls her hair back into a ponytail and checks herself in the mirror.

She is wearing jeans and a dark green T-shirt that’s almost new. She straightens up. Tries a smile. It looks more as if she is pulling a face.

She sits down on the lid of the toilet. Her eyes wander over the map of Engelsfors on the wall in front of her. Noises from the kitchen filter upstairs, the clatter of cooking and strains of classical music. From Minoo’s room comes the sound of clothes hangers being pulled along a rail.

It’s the first time Anna-Karin is going to have a meal with the entire Falk Karimi family. She has barely seen Minoo’s mother in the past. She feels in the way already because it is so rare for the family to be together. They would surely prefer meeting up without having to be nice to an awkward, silent stranger. A stranger who is also costing them a lot of money. This morning, she had been given the same end-of-term present as Minoo, a gift voucher for books. The sum on the voucher made her so panicky she almost forgot to thank Minoo’s father.

I must remember to thank Farnaz as well, Anna-Karin thinks. And to make an effort to talk and laugh and behave like somebody halfway normal.

The front door opens and Farnaz calls out, ‘Hello, everyone!’ Her voice is strong and clear. It sounds as if she is the kind of person who never mumbles.

Minoo runs past the bathroom and down the stairs. Anna-Karin hears them talk together in the hall.

‘Anna-Karin!’ Minoo shouts. ‘Supper is ready!’

Anna-Karin tries to give herself an encouraging look in the mirror. All she sees is a pair of eyes full of contempt.

They are to eat in the garden, where drops of water are still glinting on the lawn. The table is laid with a pale blue tablecloth and delicate blue-and-white china.

Minoo and her mother are already seated at the table. They look so alike. Suddenly, Anna-Karin is reminded of all the times people have told her that she looks like her mother. She never liked it, but now it strikes her that no one will ever see them side by side again; no one will ever again look from one to the other and say, ‘Wow, you’re so alike!’

‘Hello, Anna-Karin!’ Farnaz says.

She gets up to hug Anna-Karin and envelops her in scent, a mixture of fresh air, shampoo and a spicy perfume.

‘Hello.’ Anna-Karin hopes it doesn’t show just how overwhelmed she feels.

She becomes aware that both Minoo and her mother have put on a dress. She hadn’t realised that she should wear something extra nice. But how could she not have realised? After all, Minoo had told her that they were celebrating. They must think that she looks like a tramp.

She sits down on the free chair next to Minoo. Erik comes out of the kitchen carrying a large bowl of quinoa salad and a dish with oven-baked chicken breasts. Then he walks back to the kitchen and returns with a tray of bowls filled with gazpacho, olives and dressings.

‘There you are, folks!’ he says, sitting down beside Farnaz.

‘That’s fantastic, Erik!’ She smiles towards him.

Minoo looks pleased and proud. Anna-Karin is happy for her because she knows how much it means to her that her father has listened to her worries about his health.

‘I’m trying to extend my repertoire of dishes,’ he says. He piles salad on his plate. ‘I want you know, I’ve started to walk to work. I plan to start running later on but the medic advised me to take it easy in the beginning …’

‘Hey, wait,’ Farnaz says. ‘Have you really consulted a doctor?’

‘Yes, I have.’ Erik’s voice suddenly sounds harsher. ‘Incredible as it may sound, I am capable of changing my mind.’

A tense silence follows. The only sounds are the tinkling noises from serving spoons on china. Anna-Karin looks fixedly at a blue tit that has flown in and settled on the lawn near the table, where it hops about, its head turning this way and that.

‘I wasn’t being critical,’ Farnaz says. ‘I’m delighted, Erik. A little surprised, but happy.’

She puts her hand on his and looks at him with eyes full of affection.

‘Thanks,’ he says quietly.

He clears his throat, gets hold of the bottle of wine and tops up his own and Farnaz’s glasses.

‘Minoo told me about Bosse Forslund’s son and those other boys,’ Farnaz says.

‘It’s an appalling business.’

‘It is. And utterly typical of this town.’

‘What do you mean?’ Eric asks, and the edge is back in his voice.

Anna-Karin notes that Minoo stiffens.

‘I meant that I understand very well why she didn’t dare report them at the time,’ Farnaz replies. ‘Given her background, no one would’ve believed her. And the boys are probably used to getting away with things just because they grew up on the right side of the tracks.’

She is truly beautiful, Anna-Karin thinks. She looks like Minoo, but she has such a clear self-confidence. It is as if she would never apologise for herself, for being the person she is. Is this who Minoo will become when she grows up?

‘You’re right,’ Minoo says. ‘They usually get away with everything.’

She fills their glasses from the carafe with its clinking ice cubes. The sun glitters in the water.

‘Have you girls known about the bridge business for a long time?’ Minoo’s dad asks. ‘Did Linnéa tell you?’

‘Yes, we knew,’ Minoo tells him. ‘But Linnéa was very clear that the police wouldn’t believe her, and she was scared of Erik and Robin. It meant we couldn’t say anything either.’

‘You ought to have told us,’ Farnaz says. ‘Perhaps we could have helped you.’

Anna-Karin can’t help comparing Farnaz with her own mother. She knows just how Mum would’ve practically smacked her lips, how her eyes would’ve lit up.
You see! The posh ones are the worst every time
.

She cuts her chicken breast in tiny pieces. One mustn’t speak ill of the dead. Or think badly of them. And especially not of one’s own mother.

A cracking sound. Her plate breaks into two pieces. The different dressings seep through the crack and soak into the pretty tablecloth. Anna-Karin tries to mop up the stain with her napkin but it only seems to make it worse.

‘Sorry!’ she says. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Not to worry,’ Farnaz tells her. ‘I’ve spilt worse things on this cloth. Why don’t you take the plate through to the kitchen and we can fix the rest later.’

She doesn’t sound cross at all but Anna-Karin still doesn’t dare look at her.

She stacks the two pieces of her plate and walks towards the house. Low music is playing in the kitchen, something from an opera. She puts the ruined plate in the sink and washes her hands. What should she do with the bits? Will Minoo’s parents want to try to mend the plate? Or is throwing the pieces away the obvious thing to do?

‘Anna-Karin,’ a voice says behind her. Farnaz.

Anna-Karin turns towards her, but still can’t bring herself to look at her.

‘I am so sorry. I’ll pay for another one or maybe try to mend it.’ Anna-Karin only manages to sound silly.

‘No, really. Just throw it all away. Honestly, these old plates break the moment you touch them. It wasn’t your fault.’

Anna-Karin looks up cautiously. Farnaz smiles warmly.

‘I wish that we’d had time to talk properly earlier,’ she says. ‘But now I want to ask you to regard this place as your home. I do understand that what you are going through now is very hard to bear.’

The look in Farnaz’s eyes is sympathetic and far from the cloying pity that Anna-Karin can’t handle. Far, too, from the concerned expression that makes her wonder about herself and just how wrecked she really is.

‘Is there someone you can talk to?’ Farnaz asks. ‘Minoo has told me that you and your grandfather are very close.’

This surprises Anna-Karin. It hadn’t occurred to her that Minoo and her mother might have been talking about her.

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘But he is very old and I don’t want him to worry …’

She stops there, because she doesn’t want to say that – with Grandpa – she is ashamed of her lack of feelings. Unwilling to give away how dulled she is; how her loss only strikes her at times, like the painful flash of lightning caused by seeing Farnaz and Minoo sitting together just now.

‘When I was young, I lost so many people who were close to me,’ Farnaz tells her. ‘I know something about grieving. And I also know that no two people mourn in the same way. Nothing is right or wrong, Anna-Karin. You must live through this your own way. But you’re not alone.’

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