Camilla Läckberg - The Hidden Child

Herman’s daughters had just left. They came over every day, his blessed, blessed daughters. It did his heart good to see them sitting next to each other at his bedside. So alike, yet so unlike one another. And he saw Britta in all of them. Anna-Greta had her nose, Birgitta her eyes, and Margareta, the youngest, had inherited those little dimples that Britta always had when she smiled.

Herman closed his eyes to prevent himself from crying. He didn’t have the strength to cry any more. He had no more tears left. But he was forced to open his eyes again, because every time he shut them, he pictured Britta the way she had looked when he lifted the pillow away from her face. He hadn’t needed to move the pillow to know. But he had done it nonetheless. He wanted to have his suspicions confirmed. Wanted to see what he had done through his impulsive action. Because of course he had understood. The very moment he entered the bedroom and saw her lying there, motionless, with the pillow over her face, he had understood.

When he lifted it away and saw her rigid expression, he had died. At that precise moment, he too had died. He could only lie down next to her, take her in his arms and pull her close. If it had been up to him, he would still be lying there. He would have gone on holding her as her body grew colder and colder, letting the memories flood his mind.

Herman stared up at the ceiling as he thought about the past. Summer days when they took the boat out to the beach on Valö, with the girls in the cabin and Britta sitting on deck, her face tilted up towards the sun, her long legs stretched out in front of her, and her silky blonde hair hanging down her back. He saw her open her eyes, turn her head to him, and smile happily. He waved to her as he sat at the tiller, feeling in his heart how fortunate he was.

Then a shadow passed over his face. He was thinking about the first time that she told him about that unmentionable subject. A dark winter afternoon when the girls were at school. She told him to sit down because she needed to tell him something. His heart had nearly stopped, and he was ashamed to remember that his first thought had been that she was going to leave him, that she had met someone else. So what she told him had come almost as a relief. He’d listened. She’d talked. For a long time. And when it was time for them to pick up the girls, they had agreed never to speak of the topic again. What was done was done. He hadn’t viewed her any differently afterwards. Hadn’t felt differently about her or talked to her in a different way. How could he? How could that have forced out the images in his mind of the days that had flowed together to form their quiet, happy life, or the marvellous nights they had shared? What she had told him could never outweigh all that. And so they had agreed never to mention it again.

But her illness had changed that. Had changed everything. It had come roaring through their life like a tsunami, tearing up everything by the roots. And he had allowed himself to be swept along. He had made a mistake. One fateful mistake. One phone call that he should never have made. But he had been naïve, believing it was time to air out what was musty and rotten. He had thought that if he just showed how Britta was suffering because of what had been hidden away for so long in her mind, then it would be clear that the time had finally come. It was wrong to fight it any longer. What had happened in the past had to come out so that they might have peace of mind. So Britta would have peace of mind. Good Lord, how naïve he had been. He might just as well have put the pillow over her face himself. He knew that. And now he couldn’t bear the pain.

Herman closed his eyes in an attempt to close out everything, and this time he didn’t see Britta’s dead face. Instead, he saw her in a hospital bed. Pale and tired, but happy. Holding Anna-Greta in her arms. She raised her hand and waved to him. Motioning for him to come closer.

With one last sigh he let go of everything that was painful and, smiling, went towards them.

Patrik was staring straight ahead. Could Erica be right? It sounded completely crazy, and yet… logical. He sighed, aware of what a difficult task lay ahead of him.

‘Come on, sweetie. We’re going out for a little excursion,’ he said, lifting up Maja and carrying her out to the hall. ‘And we’ll pick up Mamma on the way.’

A short time later he drove up to the gate of the cemetery where Erica was waiting, so impatient to get going that she was practically jumping up and down. Patrik had started feeling equally impatient, and he had to remind himself to ease off the accelerator as they drove towards Tanumshede. He could sometimes be a rather reckless driver, but if Maja was in the car, he always drove with the utmost caution.

‘I’ll do the talking, okay?’ said Patrik as they parked in front of the station. ‘You get to come along only because I don’t feel like arguing with you about it – you’d win in the end anyway. But he’s my boss, and I’m the one who has done this before. Understand?’

Erica nodded reluctantly as she lifted Maja out of the car.

‘Do you think we should drive over to my mother’s first, and ask her to watch Maja for a while? I mean, I know how you hate it when I take Maja into the station,’ Patrik teased, getting an exasperated look in reply.

‘Come on, you know I want to get this over with as soon as possible. And she doesn’t seem to have suffered any harm from working a shift the last time she was here,’ Erica told him with a wink.

‘Hi! I didn’t expect to see all of you here,’ said Annika, surprised, her face lighting up when Maja gave her a big smile.

‘We need to talk to Bertil,’ said Patrik. ‘Is he in?’

‘Yes, he’s in his office,’ said Annika, giving them an enquiring look. She let them in, and Patrik headed briskly for Mellberg’s office with Erica in tow, carrying Maja in her arms.

‘Hedström! What are you doing here? And I see you’ve brought the whole family along,’ said Mellberg, sounding grumpy as he stood up to say hello.

‘There’s something we need to talk to you about,’ said Patrik, sitting down on one of the visitor’s chairs without waiting for an invitation. Maja and Ernst had now caught sight of each other, to their mutual delight.

‘Is he used to being around children?’ asked Erica, hesitating to set her struggling daughter down on the floor.

‘How the hell should I know?’ said Mellberg, but then relented. ‘He’s the world’s nicest dog. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.’ His voice betrayed a certain pride, and Patrik raised one eyebrow in amusement. His boss seemed to have really fallen for that dog.

Still not entirely convinced, Erica set her daughter down next to Ernst, who enthusiastically began licking the little girl’s face. Maja reacted with a mixture of alarm and delight.

‘So, what is it you want?’ Mellberg stared at Patrik with some curiosity.

‘I want you to obtain permission to open a grave.’

Mellberg started coughing, as if something was stuck in his throat. His face turned redder and redder as he struggled to breathe.

‘Open a grave! Are you out of your mind, man!’ he finally managed to splutter. ‘Being on paternity leave must have affected your brain! Do you know how rare it is to get permission to open a grave? And I’ve already done it twice in the past few years. If I ask for another one, they’re going to certify me as insane and lock me up in the loony bin! And whose body are we going to exhume now, by the way?’

‘A Norwegian resistance fighter who disappeared in 1945,’ said Erica calmly as she squatted down next to Patrik and scratched Ernst’s ears.

‘What did you say?’ Mellberg stared at her open-mouthed, as if he thought he must have heard wrong.