The Hidden Child

‘So it was Mattias who thought you should break in?’ said Gösta, giving Adam a stern look.

‘I don’t know if I’d call it “breaking in” …’ Adam squirmed. ‘We weren’t going to steal anything, we just wanted to take a look. And we thought they were both away, so they probably wouldn’t even notice that we’d been there.’

‘Well, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it,’ said Gösta. ‘Had you ever been inside their house before?’

‘No, word of honour,’ said Adam earnestly. ‘That was the first time we went there.’

‘I’m going to need to take your fingerprints so I can verify what you’re telling me. And so we can rule out your prints. Do you have a problem with that?’

‘No, not at all,’ said Adam, his eyes shining. ‘I always watch CSI. I know how important that is – to rule someone out. And then they put all the fingerprints in the computer to find out who else has been inside.’

‘Exactly. That’s exactly how we work,’ said Gösta with a solemn expression. Inside, he was having a good laugh. Put all the fingerprints in the computer. Oh, sure.

He got out the equipment he needed to take Adam’s fingerprints: an ink pad and a card with ten squares in which he carefully pressed the boy’s fingers, one after the other.

‘That’s it,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘We’re done.’

‘Do you scan them in, or how do you do it?’ asked Adam.

‘Right, we scan them in,’ said Gösta, ‘and then we run them through the database you were talking about. We have every Swedish citizen over eighteen in the database. And a number of foreigners too. Via Interpol, you know. We’re connected with them. Interpol, I mean. Via a direct link. And with the FBI and CIA, too.’

‘Awesome!’ said Adam, looking at Gösta with admiration.

Gösta laughed all the way back to Tanumshede.

He set the table with great care, using the yellow tablecloth that he knew Britta liked so much. The white china with the raised pattern. The candleholders they’d received as a wedding gift. And a few flowers in a vase. No matter what the time of year, Britta had always had flowers in the house. She was a regular customer at the florist’s, or at least she used to be. These days it was usually Herman who bought the flowers. He wanted everything to be the way it had always been. Maybe if everything around her remained unchanged the downward spiral might at least be slowed, even if it couldn’t be stopped altogether.

The worst was in the beginning. Before they received the diagnosis. Britta had always been so meticulous about things. None of the family could understand why she suddenly couldn’t find her car keys, or why she would call a grandchild by the wrong name, or find it impossible to remember the phone numbers of friends she’d known most of her life. They’d blamed it on fatigue and stress. She’d started taking multivitamins and drinking Blutsaft, thinking it would combat whatever nutritional deficiency she was suffering from. But there came a point when they could no longer close their eyes to the fact that something was seriously wrong.

The diagnosis had rendered them both speechless. Then Britta had let out a sob. That was all: one sob. She’d given Herman’s hand a squeeze, and he’d squeezed back. They both knew what it meant. The life that they’d shared for fifty-five years was about to change inexorably. The disease was slowly going to break down her mind, cause her to lose more and more of herself: her memories, her personality. The abyss gaped wide and deep before them.

A year had passed since then. The good moments were now few and far between. Herman’s hands shook as he folded the paper napkins. Britta had always formed them into fans, but even though he’d watched her countless times he couldn’t manage it himself. After the fourth attempt, anger and frustration surged up inside him, and he tore the napkin to shreds that floated down on to the plate. He sat down on a chair and tried to pull himself together as he wiped a tear from his eye.

They’d had fifty-five years together. Good years. Happy years. Of course they’d had their ups and downs, just like in every marriage. But the foundation had always remained solid. They’d become adults together, he and Britta. Especially after they’d had Anna-Greta. He’d been so proud of Britta. Before their daughter was born, he had to admit that he’d sometimes found his wife to be rather shallow and superficial. But from the first day she held Anna-Greta in her arms, she’d changed. It was as if becoming a mother had given her a foundation that she’d lacked until then. They’d had three daughters. Three blessed daughters. And his love for his wife had grown with each birth.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. ‘Pappa? What’s wrong? You didn’t answer when I knocked, so I decided to come in.’

Herman quickly wiped his eyes and put on a smile when he saw the worried expression on his eldest daughter’s face. But he couldn’t fool her. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his.

‘Is this one of the bad days, Pappa?’

He nodded and for a moment allowed himself to feel like a child in his daughter’s arms. They’d brought her up well, he and Britta. Anna-Greta was a warm and considerate person, and a loving grandmother to two of their great-grandchildren. Sometimes he couldn’t understand how things had happened so fast. How could this grey-haired woman in her fifties be the daughter who had toddled about the house and wrapped him around her little finger?

‘Time passes, Anna-Greta,’ he said at last, patting her arm as it lay across his chest.

‘Yes, Pappa, time passes,’ she said, hugging him even harder. She gave him an extra little squeeze and then let him go.

‘I’ll fold the napkins while you get the knives and forks. I think that would be best, judging by what I see here.’ She pointed to the scraps of napkin lying like confetti on the table and gave him a wink.

‘You’re right, that would probably be best,’ he said, smiling at his daughter gratefully. ‘That would probably be best.’

‘When are they supposed to get here?’ called Patrik from the bedroom where, at Erica’s request, he was changing into something more appropriate than jeans and a T-shirt. His protests – ‘But it’s just your sister and Dan coming to dinner …’ – had got him nowhere. Having guests over for dinner apparently required something more than casual attire. End of story.

Erica opened the oven door to take a look at the baked fillet of pork. She had been feeling guilty ever since she yelled at Patrik the day before, so to make up for it she was cooking one of his favourite dishes: fillet of pork baked in puff pastry, with a port wine sauce and mashed potatoes. It was what she’d cooked for him the first time she invited him over. The first night that they’d … She laughed to herself and shut the oven door. It seemed so long ago, even though it was only a few years back. Much as she loved Patrik, it was strange how quickly the daily routines and the demands of child-care could kill off any desire to make love five times in a row, the way they had on that first night. Nowadays the mere thought of it left her feeling worn out. Once a week seemed a real achievement.

‘They’ll be here in half an hour,’ she shouted upstairs and then began making the sauce. She’d already changed into black trousers and a lilac blouse – one of her favourites from the years when she’d lived in Stockholm and still had a decent number of shops to choose from. Just to be on the safe side, she’d put on an apron, and Patrik whistled appreciatively when he came into the kitchen.

‘What do my weary eyes see here? A revelation. A divinely glamorous creature, but with a touch of homespun chic and culinariness.’

‘There’s no such word as “culinariness”,’ said Erica with a laugh as Patrik kissed the back of her neck.

‘There is now,’ he said, winking. Then he took a step back and did a pirouette in the middle of the kitchen. ‘So? Will I do? Or do I need to go back upstairs and change into something else?’

‘Stop it, you make it sound like I’m a real nag.’ Erica looked him up and down with a stern expression but then laughed and said: ‘Very nice. You’re a sight for sore eyes. Now, if you can just set the table, maybe I’ll start to remember why I married you.’

‘Set the table? Consider it done!’

Half an hour later, at precisely seven o’clock when the doorbell rang, the food was ready and the table was set. Anna and Dan appeared at the door, along with Emma and Adrian, who came right in, calling for Maja. Their little cousin was very popular.

‘Who is that cute guy, Erica?’ said Anna. ‘And what have you done with Patrik? It’s about time you traded him in for a fancier model.’

Patrik gave Anna a hug. ‘Nice to see you too, my dear sister-in-law. So, how are the turtle doves doing? Erica and I are honoured that you can tear yourselves away from the bedroom long enough to drop by and see us in our humble abode.’

‘Cut it out,’ said Anna, blushing as she batted Patrik in the chest. But the look that she gave Dan showed that Patrik actually had a point.

They spent a very pleasant evening together. Emma and Adrian were happy to keep Maja entertained until it was time to put her to bed, and then the two of them fell asleep at opposite ends of the sofa. The food received the praise that it deserved, the wine was excellent and quickly disappeared from the bottles, and Erica enjoyed having her sister and Dan at the table for a nice dinner without any dark clouds on the horizon, without thinking about everything that had happened in the past. Just pleasant conversation and good-natured banter.

The mood was suddenly shattered by the urgent ringing of Dan’s mobile.

‘Sorry, I just need to see who could be calling me at this time of night,’ said Dan. He went out and retrieved his mobile from his jacket pocket, frowning at the display as if he didn’t recognize the number.

‘Hello? This is Dan,’ he said. ‘Who’s this? Sorry, but I can’t hear what you’re … Belinda? Where? What? But I’ve been drinking wine, and I can’t … Put her in a taxi and send her over here. Right now! Yes, I’ll pay the driver when she arrives. Just make sure she gets here.’ He rattled off Patrik and Erica’s address and hung up. ‘I don’t believe it!’

‘What’s going on?’ asked Anna, worried.

‘It’s Belinda. Apparently she went to some party and now she’s drunk. That was one of her friends. They’re going to send her here in a cab.’

‘But I thought she was staying with Pernilla in Munkedal.’

‘So did I, but clearly that’s not where she went. Her friend was calling from Grebbestad.’

Dan began punching numbers on his mobile. It sounded as if he’d interrupted his ex-wife’s beauty sleep. He went into the kitchen, and they could hear only bits and pieces of the conversation, but it didn’t sound particularly friendly. A few minutes later he came back to the dining room and sat down at the table shaking his head in frustration.

‘Apparently Belinda told her mother she was going to spend the night with a friend. And the friend most likely said that she was going to spend the night with Belinda. Instead, the two of them went to some party in Grebbestad. Damnit! I thought I could count on her to keep an eye on the girl!’

‘You mean Pernilla?’ said Anna, stroking his arm to calm him down. ‘It’s not that easy, Dan. It’s the oldest trick in the book, but even you could have been taken in by it.’

‘No, I wouldn’t!’ replied Dan angrily. ‘I would have phoned her friend’s parents during the evening to hear how things were going. I would never trust a seventeen-year-old. How stupid can anyone be? Shouldn’t I be able to rely on her to take care of the kids?’

‘Calm down,’ said Anna sternly. ‘The most important thing right now is to look after Belinda when she gets here.’ Dan opened his mouth to say something but she stopped him before he could speak. ‘And we’re not going to yell at her tonight. We’ll save that conversation for the morning, after she’s sober. Okay?’ Everyone at the table, including Dan, could tell that this was non-negotiable. He nodded.

‘I’ll go make up the guest room,’ said Erica, getting up from the table.

‘And I’ll get a bucket,’ said Patrik, fervently hoping that he wouldn’t find himself saying the same thing when Maja was a teenager.

A few minutes later they heard a car pull up outside, and Dan and Anna hurried to the front door. Anna paid the driver while Dan lifted Belinda out of the car. She’d been lying across the back seat like a rag doll.

‘Pappa …’ she said, slurring the word. Then she put her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his chest. The smell of vomit made Dan feel sick, but at the same time he felt a tremendous tenderness for his daughter, who suddenly seemed so small and fragile. It had been years since he’d carried her in his arms.

A retching sound from Belinda made him instinctively move her head, turning it away from his chest. A stinking, reddish sludge poured out on to Erica and Patrik’s front steps. Clearly red wine had been her drink of choice.

‘Bring her inside. Don’t worry about the mess, we’ll hose it off later,’ said Erica, motioning for Dan and Anna to come in. ‘Put her in the shower. Anna and I will rinse her off and give her some clean clothes to wear.’

In the shower Belinda started to cry. The sound was heartbreaking. Anna stroked her hair as Erica carefully rubbed her dry with a towel.

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