The Lost Boy

‘I don’t really know. It all happened rather fast. He was involved in an accident, and afterwards I had the impression that … No, it’s nothing. Don’t pay any attention to an old woman who talks too much. So what’s on your mind, Nathalie? Is there something we can do for you? And do you have the little guy with you? It would be so nice to see him.’

‘Yes, of course, Sam is here. Only he’s not feeling very well.’

Nathalie fell silent. Nothing would make her happier than to introduce Signe to her son. But not until they were settled on the island; not until she saw what effect the recent events might have had on him.

‘That’s why I thought I’d ask for your help. We don’t have much food out here, and I don’t want to make Sam get up so we could go into—’

Before she could finish her sentence, Signe interrupted.

‘But of course we’d love to help. Gunnar is taking the boat out this afternoon anyway, and I can do your grocery shopping for you. Just tell me what you need.’

‘I can pay Gunnar back in cash, if you wouldn’t mind buying the food for me.’

‘Absolutely. That’s no problem, dear. So, what should I add to my shopping list?’

Nathalie could picture Signe putting on her reading glasses, sliding them down to the very tip of her nose as she reached for pen and paper. Gratefully Nathalie rattled off everything she could imagine they might need. Including a bag of sweets for Sam. Otherwise things could get difficult when Saturday arrived. He always kept track of the weekdays, and on Sunday he was already counting down to the next bag of Saturday sweets.

When she finished the phone conversation, Nathalie considered waking Sam. But something told her that she should let him sleep another hour.

Nobody was doing any work at the police station. Displaying a sensitivity that was unusual for him, Bertil Mellberg had asked Patrik whether he wanted his colleagues to attend the funeral. Patrik had merely shaken his head. He’d only been back on the job a few days, and everyone was tiptoeing around him. Even Mellberg.

Paula and Mellberg had been the first officers to arrive at the scene of the accident. When they caught sight of the two cars, crumpled beyond recognition, they didn’t think that anyone could have survived the crash. They peered in one of the windows and immediately recognized Erica. Only half an hour earlier an ambulance had come to the station to take Patrik to the hospital, and now his wife was dead, or at least seriously injured. The medics were unable to specify what the extent of her injuries might be, and it seemed to take an unbearably long time for the fire brigade to cut open the car.

Martin and Gösta were busy with another case and only heard about the accident and Patrik’s collapse several hours later. They drove to the hospital in Uddevalla and spent the whole evening pacing the corridors. Patrik was in Intensive Care, and both Erica and her sister Anna, who had been seated next to her in the car, underwent emergency surgery.

But now Patrik was back on the job. Thankfully he hadn’t had a heart attack, as was first thought; instead, he’d suffered a vascular spasm. After nearly three months on sick leave, the doctors had given him permission to return to work, although with strict orders to avoid stress. As if that’s going to be possible, thought Gösta. With newborn twins at home, and considering what happened to Erica’s sister. The devil himself would be stressed in that situation.

‘Do you think we should have gone anyway?’ asked Martin, stirring his coffee. ‘Maybe Patrik said no but he really wanted us to attend the funeral.’

‘No, I think Patrik meant what he said.’ Gösta scratched Ernst, the station’s dog, behind one ear. ‘I’m sure there are plenty of people at the church. We can do more good here.’

‘How can you say that? We haven’t heard a peep from anyone all day.’

‘It’s the calm before the storm. By July you’ll be longing for a day without any drunks, burglaries, or other sorts of trouble.’

‘That’s true,’ said Martin. He’d always been the newbie at the station, but he no longer felt like such a beginner. By now he’d had a few years of experience on the police force, and he’d participated in several investigations that had been very difficult, which was putting it mildly. He had also become a father, and he felt as if he’d grown several inches the minute that Pia gave birth to their daughter.

‘Did you see the invitation we received?’ Gösta reached for a Ballerina biscuit and began his usual routine of meticulously separating the vanilla top from the chocolate bottom.

‘What invitation?’

‘Apparently we’re going to have the honour of acting as guinea pigs at that new place they’re building in Fjällbacka.’

‘You mean at the Badis Hotel?’ Martin woke up a bit.

‘That’s right. Erling’s new project. Let’s just hope that it goes better than all that Sodding Tanum nonsense.’

‘I think it sounds great. Lots of guys laugh at the idea of having a facial, but I had one in Göteborg and it was bloody marvellous. My skin was as smooth as a baby’s bottom for weeks afterward.’

Gösta gave his colleague a disgusted look. A facial? Over his dead body. Nobody was going to smear a load of muck all over his face. ‘Well, we’ll have to see what they’re offering. I’m hoping for at least some fancy grub. Maybe a dessert buffet.’

‘I doubt it,’ laughed Martin. ‘Places like that are usually more concerned with getting people to stay in shape than stuffing themselves with food.’

Gösta looked offended. His weight was exactly the same as when he finished secondary school. With a snort, he helped himself to another biscuit.

Chaos reigned when they arrived home. Maja and Lisen were jumping on the sofa, Emma and Adrian were fighting over a DVD, and the twins were crying at the top of their lungs. Patrik’s mother looked as if she might jump off a cliff at any second.

‘Thank God you’re home,’ she exclaimed as she handed Patrik and Erica each a screaming baby. ‘I don’t know what got into these kids. They’ve been crazy. And I tried to feed the babies, but every time I fed one of them, the other would start crying, and then the first one would get distracted and couldn’t eat and would start crying too …’ She fell silent, trying to catch her breath.

‘Sit down, Mamma,’ said Patrik. He went to get a bottle for Anton, whom he was holding in his arms. The boy’s face was beet-red, and he was crying as loudly as his tiny body would allow.

‘Could you bring a bottle for Noel too?’ asked Erica as she tried to comfort her shrieking son.

Anton and Noel were still so small. Not like Maja, who had been big and robust right from the start. Yet the boys were actually enormous in comparison to their size at birth. Like tiny birds, they had lain in separate incubators, their thin arms hooked up to various tubes. They were fighters, according to the nurses at the hospital. And they had quickly gained weight, for the most part exhibiting a good appetite. But Erica and Patrik couldn’t help worrying about them.

‘Thanks.’ Erica took the bottle that her husband handed to her and sat down in an armchair, holding Noel. He greedily began drinking the formula. Patrik sat down in the other armchair with Anton, who stopped crying as swiftly as his brother. Erica thought that there were definite advantages to the fact that she hadn’t been able to breastfeed. This way she and Patrik were able to share responsibility for the babies. That hadn’t been possible with Maja, and it had felt as if her daughter were glued to her breast 24/7.

‘How did it go?’ asked Kristina. She lifted Maja and Lisen down from the sofa and told them to go upstairs to play in Maja’s room. Emma and Adrian had already disappeared upstairs, so the two girls didn’t need any further persuasion.

‘It was fine. I don’t know what else to say,’ Erica told her. ‘But I’m worried about Anna.’

‘Me too.’ Patrik cautiously changed position so he was sitting more comfortably. ‘It’s as if she’s shut Dan out. She’s keeping him at a distance.’

‘I know. I’ve tried talking to her. But after all she’s been through …’ Erica shook her head. It was so terribly unfair. For years Anna had lived a life that could only be described as hell, but lately it seemed as if she’d finally found some peace of mind. And she’d been so happy about the baby that she and Dan were expecting. What had happened was unbelievably cruel.

‘Emma and Adrian seem to be handling it relatively well.’ Kristina cast a glance upstairs, where the children could be heard laughing merrily.

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said Erica. ‘Right now they’re probably just so happy to have their mother back home. I’m not sure that they’ve fully taken in what happened yet.’

‘You’re probably right,’ said Kristina, and then looked at her son. ‘And what about you? Shouldn’t you stay home from work a while longer until you’re properly rested? No one’s going to thank you for working yourself to death over at the station. What happened to you was a wake-up call.’

‘At the moment things are actually calmer over there than here,’ said Erica, nodding at the twins. ‘But I told him the same thing.’

‘It feels good to be working again, but I’ll stay home if you really want me to,’ said Patrik. He set the empty bottle on the coffee table and placed Anton against his shoulder to burp him.

‘No, that’s okay. We’re doing just fine now.’

Erica meant what she said. After Maja was born, she’d felt as if she were walking around in a thick fog, but this time everything was different. Maybe the circumstances surrounding the birth of the twins left no room for her to be depressed. It also helped that they had developed a set routine while in the hospital. They slept and ate at specific hours, and always together. Erica wasn’t the least bit concerned about being able to take care of the babies. She was happy for every second that she had with them, since she had come so close to losing both of them.

She closed her eyes, leaned forward, and pressed her nose against the top of Noel’s head. For a moment his downy skin made her think of Anna, and she closed her eyes even tighter. She hoped she’d be able to find a way to help her sister, because right now she felt so powerless. She took a deep breath, drawing in Noel’s comforting scent.

‘My sweet baby,’ she murmured. ‘My sweet little baby.’

‘So how’s it going with your job?’ Signe tried to strike a light tone as she piled meatloaf, peas, mashed potatoes, and cream gravy on to a plate. A huge serving.

Ever since Matte had moved back to the area, he’d hardly touched his food, even though she’d made his favourite meals every time he had dinner with them. The question was whether he ate anything at all when he was alone in his flat. He was as thin as a rail. Thank goodness he at least looked better now that all traces of the assault had disappeared. When they went to see him at Sahlgrenska Hospital, she hadn’t been able to hold back a cry of dismay. He had been beaten to a pulp. His face was so swollen that she could hardly tell whether it was really Matte lying in that hospital bed.

‘It’s fine.’

Signe jumped at the sound of his voice. The answer to her question came after such a delay that she’d forgotten she asked it. Matte ploughed his fork through the mashed potatoes and then stabbed a bite of meatloaf. She realized she was holding her breath as she watched him raise the fork to his mouth.

‘Stop staring at the boy while he’s eating,’ muttered Gunnar. He was already helping himself to seconds.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘It’s just that I’m … I’m so glad to see you eating something.’

‘I’m not about to starve to death, Mamma. See? I’m eating.’ As if in defiance, he loaded his fork and quickly stuffed the food into his mouth before it toppled off.

‘They’re not working you too hard at the office, are they?’

Signe received yet another annoyed look from Gunnar. She knew that he thought she was being over-protective, that she ought to leave their son in peace for a while. But she couldn’t help it. Matte was her only child, and ever since that December day when he was born, which was almost forty years ago, she’d regularly woken up in the middle of the night, her nightgown soaked with sweat and her head filled with nightmares about the terrible things that might have happened to him. Nothing in life was more important to her than seeing him happy. She had always felt that way. And she knew that Gunnar was every bit as devoted to their son as she was. But he was better equipped to shut out the ominous thoughts that love for a child always entails.

She, on the other hand, was constantly aware that she might lose everything in a matter of seconds. When Matte was a baby, she’d dreamt that he had a heart defect, and so she had persuaded the doctors to do a thorough examination, which showed that her son was perfectly healthy. During his first year she slept no more than an hour at a time, because she kept getting up to make sure he was still breathing. As he got bigger, up until he started school, she would cut his food into small pieces so they wouldn’t get stuck in his throat and cause him to choke. And she had nightmares about cars driving right over his soft little body.

By the time he was a teenager, her dreams had become even worse, filled with alcoholic comas, drunken driving, and fist-fights. Sometimes she tossed and turned so much in bed that she woke Gunnar. One feverish nightmare after another until she forced herself to sit up and wait for Matte to come home, her gaze fixed first on the window, then on the telephone. Her heart gave a leap every time she heard someone outside, approaching the house.

The nights were a bit calmer after he moved away from home. Which was rather odd, because it seemed as if her fears should have grown when she was no longer able to keep watch over him. But she knew that he wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks. He was a cautious person – that much she’d managed to teach him. He was also considerate and would never think of hurting anyone. In her mind, this meant that no one, in turn, would ever try to harm him either.

She smiled at the memory of all the animals he had brought home over the years. Injured, abandoned, or generally in a bad way. Three cats, two hedgehogs that had been hit by a car, and a sparrow with an injured wing. Not to mention the snake that she happened to find when she was just about to put his newly laundered underwear in his drawer. After that episode, he had to swear to her that he’d leave all reptiles to their fate, no matter how injured or abandoned they might be. He had reluctantly agreed.

It had surprised Signe that he hadn’t become a veterinarian or a doctor. But he seemed to enjoy his studies at the business school, and from what she understood, he definitely had a head for numbers. He also seemed to like his job at the council. Yet there was something about him that worried her. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but the bad dreams had started up again. Every night she awoke, bathed in sweat, with fragments of images in her head. Something was amiss, but her tactful queries were merely met with silence. That was why she had decided to focus her efforts on getting him to eat. If only he would put on a few pounds, everything would probably be fine.

‘Wouldn’t you like some more?’ she ventured as Matte put down his fork. Half of the huge portion of food was still left on his plate.

‘That’s enough, Signe,’ said Gunnar. ‘Leave the boy alone.’

‘It’s okay,’ said Matte, giving them a wan smile.

Mamma’s boy. He didn’t want her to suffer a scolding for his sake, even though after forty years with her husband, she knew that Gunnar’s bark was worse than his bite. In fact, it would be hard to find a kinder man. She knew that the problem was hers, that she worried too much.

‘I’m sorry, Matte. Of course you don’t have to eat any more.’

She called him by the nickname that he’d had since he first learned to talk but couldn’t say his name properly. He’d called himself Matte, and everybody else had done the same.

‘Guess who’s home for a visit,’ she went on, cheerfully, reaching for the plates so she could clear the table.

‘I have no idea.’

‘Nathalie.’

Matte gave a start and looked at her.

‘Nathalie? My Nathalie?’

Gunnar chuckled. ‘I knew that would wake you up. You’ve always had a bit of a crush on her.’

‘Hey, knock it off.’

Signe suddenly pictured in her mind the teenage boy, a lock of hair falling into his eyes, as he told her with a stammer that he had a girlfriend.

‘I took some groceries over to her today,’ said Gunnar. ‘She’s over on Ghost Isle.’

‘Oh, don’t call it that.’ Signe shuddered. ‘Its name is Gråskär.’

‘When did she arrive?’ asked Matte.

‘Yesterday, I think. And she has the boy with her.’

‘How long is she staying?’

‘She said she doesn’t know.’ Gunnar stuck a wad of snuff under his upper lip and contentedly leaned back in his chair.

‘Was she … was she the same?’

Gunnar nodded. ‘Sure, of course she was just the same, our little Nathalie. Exactly the same. Although I thought she had a slightly sad look in her eyes, but maybe that’s my imagination. Maybe they had a quarrel back home. What do I know?’

‘Don’t go speculating about such matters,’ Signe scolded him. ‘Did you see the boy?’

‘No. Nathalie met me down at the dock, and I didn’t stay long. Why don’t you go out there and say hello?’ Gunnar said, turning to Matte. ‘I’m sure she’d be happy to have a visitor out there on Ghost Isle. Sorry. I mean, Gråskär,’ he added, giving his wife an annoyed look.

‘That’s all a bunch of nonsense and old superstitions. I don’t think we should be encouraging that sort of thing,’ said Signe, a deep furrow appearing between her brows.

‘Nathalie believes it,’ said Matte quietly. ‘She always said that she knew they were there.’

‘What do you mean by “they”?’ Much as Signe would have preferred to change the subject, she was curious to hear what Matte would say.

‘The dead. Nathalie said that she sometimes she saw them and heard them, but they didn’t mean any harm. They just ended up staying there.’

‘That’s awful. Now I think it’s time for dessert. I’ve made rhubarb pudding.’ Signe stood up abruptly. ‘Pappa’s right about one thing, though, even if he does talk a lot of drivel. It would make her happy to have you visit.’

Matte didn’t reply. He looked as if he were far away in his thoughts.

FJÄLLBACKA 1870

Emelie was terrified. She had never even seen the sea, let alone sailed on it in what seemed to be a very unstable boat. She had a tight grip on the railing. It felt as if she was being tossed forward and backward by the waves, with no chance of putting up any resistance or governing her own body. She sought Karl’s eye, but he was standing there with a resolute expression, staring out at what awaited them far ahead.

The words were still ringing in her ears. They were probably nothing more than the superstitious ramblings of an old woman, but she couldn’t help thinking about them. The woman had asked where they were headed when they loaded their belongings on to the small sailboat down at the Fjällbacka harbour.

‘Gråskär,’ Emelie had answered happily. ‘My husband Karl is the new lighthouse keeper on the island.’

The woman didn’t seem impressed. Instead, she had snorted and with a strange little smile she said, ‘Gråskär? Oh, I see. In these parts nobody calls it Gråskär.’

‘Is that right?’ Emelie had the feeling that she really shouldn’t ask, but her curiosity got the better of her. ‘So what do you call it then?’

At first the old woman didn’t reply. Then she lowered her voice and said, ‘In these parts we call it Ghost Isle.’

‘Ghost Isle?’ Emelie’s nervous laughter had carried over the water in the early morning haze. ‘How strange. Why?’

The old woman’s eyes glittered when she spoke. ‘Because it’s said that those who die out there never leave the island.’ Then she turned on her heel and left Emelie standing there among all the bags and suitcases, with an awful lump in her stomach instead of the joy and anticipation that had filled her only a few moments ago.

And now it felt as if she might meet death at any second. The sea was so vast, so untamed, and it seemed to be drawing her towards it. She couldn’t swim. If any of the waves, which looked so big even though Karl said they were only small swells, should capsize the boat, she was convinced that she would be pulled down into the deep. She gripped the railing harder, fixing her eyes on the floor, or the deck as Karl claimed it was called.

‘Over there is Gråskär.’

Karl’s voice demanded that she look, so she took a deep breath and raised her eyes to stare in the direction he was pointing. Her first thought was that the island was so beautiful. The cottage, though small, seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, and the grey rocks gleamed. She saw hollyhocks growing at one end of the house, and she was amazed that they could thrive in such a barren setting. To the west the island shoreline was very steep, as if the cliffs had been sheared in half. But in the other directions the rocks sloped gradually towards the water.

Suddenly the waves didn’t seem so rough. She still longed to feel solid ground under her feet, but Gråskär had already enchanted her. And she pushed the old woman’s words about Ghost Isle to the very back of her mind. Something that was so beautiful couldn’t possibly conceal anything bad.

2

She had heard them in the night. The same whispering, the same voices that she recalled from when she was a child. Her watch told her that it was three a.m. when she awoke. At first she didn’t know what had caused her to wake up. Then she heard them. They were talking downstairs. A chair scraped. What did the dead talk about with each other? About things that had happened before they died? Or about what was taking place now, many years later?

Nathalie had been aware of their presence on the island for as long as she could remember. Her mother had said that, even as a baby, Nathalie would suddenly start laughing and waving her arms, as if she saw things that no one else could see. As she grew older, she became more and more conscious of them. A voice, something flitting past, the feeling that somebody else was in the room. But they didn’t mean her any harm. She knew that back then, and she knew that now. For a long time she lay awake, listening to them until the voices finally lulled her back to sleep.

When morning arrived, she remembered the sounds as nothing more than a far-away dream. She made breakfast for herself and Sam, but he refused to eat his favourite cereal.

‘Please, sweetie. Just one spoonful. Just a teeny bit?’ she coaxed him but was unable to get him to take a single bite. With a sigh she put down the spoon. ‘You have to eat, you know.’ She stroked his cheek.

He hadn’t uttered a word since everything happened. But Nathalie pushed her concern to a far corner of her mind. She needed to allow him time and not try to pressure him; she simply had to be available to him as he processed the memories, putting them away and replacing them with others. And there was no better place to do that than here on Gråskär, far away from everything else, near the cliffs, the sun, and the salty sea.

‘You know what, let’s skip breakfast and go out for a swim instead.’ When she received no answer, she simply picked him up and carried him outside into the sun. Tenderly she took off his clothes and carried him down to the water, as if he were only a year old and not a big boy of five. The water wasn’t very warm, but he offered no objections as she sank down, immersing both of them while pressing his head protectively to her chest. This was the best medicine. They would stay here until the storm subsided. Until everything was back to normal.