Camilla Lackberg - The Lost Boy

‘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.

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.

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.

‘I didn’t think you’d come in until Monday,’ said Annika, peering over the tops of her computer glasses to look at Patrik. He had stopped in the doorway to her office, which was also the station’s reception area.

‘Erica threw me out. She claimed she was sick and tired of seeing my ugly mug at home.’ He attempted a laugh, but thoughts of the previous day were still with him, so the laugh didn’t reach his eyes.

‘I know exactly what she means,’ said Annika, but her expression was as melancholy as Patrik’s. The death of a child affected everyone. Since Annika and her husband Lennart had learned that they would soon be able to bring home their long-awaited adoptive child from China, she was even more sensitive when it came to children who were hurt or harmed in some way.

‘Is there anything going on?’ asked Patrik.

‘No, I wouldn’t say that. Just the usual. Old Mrs Strömberg has called for the third time this week to say that her son-in-law is trying to kill her. And a few kids were picked up for shoplifting at Hedemyr’s.’

‘Super busy, in other words.’

‘Right. The big topic of conversation at the moment is that we’ve received an invitation to come and sample all the wonders on offer at that new place – Badis.’

‘That sounds tempting. I reckon I should volunteer for that particular job.’

‘At any rate, it’s good to see the transformation Badis has undergone,’ said Annika. ‘The building used to look as if it might fall apart at any moment.’

‘Yes, it’s great. But I doubt it’s going to be profitable. It must have cost a fortune to restore the place. And do you think people will really want to go to a spa there?’

‘If not, Erling’s going to be in hot water. I have a friend who works for the local council, and she told me that they’ve invested a large part of their budget in the project.’