Camilla Läckberg - The Drowning

‘You mean we can’t afford it?’ asked his wife, looking at him with a sly smile on her lips.

‘It’s not a question of whether we can afford it or not. It has to do with the fact that I work around the clock making money, which you then squander on… idiotic purchases.’

‘Oh, right. I do nothing at all at home during the day,’ said Louise, getting to her feet as she fluttered her hands to make the nail polish dry faster. ‘I just sit here, eating sweets and watching soap operas all day long. And you’ve been raising the girls all on your own without any help from me, right? You’ve changed their nappies, fed them, bathed them, driven them wherever they needed to go, and kept the whole house neat and clean. Is that what you mean?’ She swept out of the room without giving him another glance.

This was a conversation that they’d had hundreds of times before. And no doubt they’d have it hundreds of time again, if nothing drastic happened. They were like two well-rehearsed dancers who knew all the steps and were able to carry themselves with consummate elegance.

‘This is one of the finds that I made in Göteborg. Nice, isn’t it?’ She was back, holding a leather jacket that she’d taken from a hanger in the front hall. ‘It was on sale, reduced to only four thousand.’ She held it up, then hung it back in the hall and went upstairs.

Presumably neither of them was going to win the argument this time either. They were equal adversaries, and every single row they’d had over the years had ended in a tie. Ironically enough, it might have actually been better if one of them had been weaker than the other. Then their unhappy marriage could have come to an end.

‘Next time I’m going to cut up your credit card!’ he yelled after her. The girls were at a friend’s house, so there was no reason to keep his voice down.

‘As long as you continue to spend money on your mistresses, you’re not going to do a damn thing with my card. Do you think you’re the only one who pays attention to the details on credit-card bills?’

Erik swore. He knew that he should have changed his mailing address so that the bills were sent to his office instead. He couldn’t deny that he was a generous man when it came to anyone who happened to have the joy and the honour of sleeping with him. He swore again and stuck his feet in his shoes. He realized that, in spite of everything, Louise had won this round. And she knew it.

‘I’m going out to buy the evening paper,’ he shouted, and then slammed the door after him.

Gravel flew in all directions as he roared off in his BMW, and his pulse didn’t slow until he had almost reached the village. If only he’d been smart enough to demand a prenuptial agreement. Then Louise would be nothing more than a bad memory by this time. But back then, they had been poor students, and when he brought up the subject a few years ago, she had merely laughed in his face. Now he refused to let her get away with half of everything that he’d built up, what he’d fought and slaved for. Never! He pounded his fist on the steering wheel but calmed down as he turned into the car park of the Konsum supermarket.

It was Louise’s job to do the grocery shopping, so he moved quickly past the shelves stocked with food items. As he headed towards the stand holding newspapers, which was right next to the checkout counters, he came to an abrupt halt in mid-stride. Big, black type on the placards screamed at him: Rising-star author Christian Thydell fears for his life! And in smaller type: Collapsed during book launch party after receiving threatening letter!

Erik had to force his feet to go closer. It felt as if he were trying to walk through deep water. He picked up a copy of GT and with trembling fingers leafed through the paper until he found the right page. When he finished reading the article, he dashed for the exit. He hadn’t even paid for the paper, and from somewhere far away he heard the clerk shouting at him. But he kept on running. He had to get home.

‘How the hell did the newspapers find out about this?’

Patrik and Maja had been out buying groceries, and now Patrik flung a copy of GT on the table before he went on putting food away in the refrigerator. Maja had climbed up on a kitchen chair and was eagerly helping him unload the shopping bags.

‘Er…’ was all Erica could say.

Patrik stopped what he was doing. He knew his wife well enough to be able to decipher what her reticence signified.

‘What did you do, Erica?’ He was holding a tub of Lätt & Lagom margarine in his hand as he looked her in the eye.

‘I think it must have leaked out because of me.’

‘How did that happen? Who did you talk to?’

Now even Maja was aware of the tension in the kitchen. She sat on the chair, staring at her mother. Erica gulped and then told him. ‘Gaby.’

‘Gaby!’ Patrik nearly choked. ‘You told Gaby? You might as well have rung up GT yourself.’

‘I didn’t think that -’

‘No, I’m quite certain you didn’t. What does Christian say about all this?’ asked Patrik, pointing at the blaring headlines.

‘I don’t know,’ said Erica. She felt her insides tie themselves in knots whenever she thought about how Christian would react.

‘As a police officer, I have to tell you that this is the worst thing that could have happened. This kind of attention will not only incite the person who sent those letters, but new letter-writers as well.’

‘Don’t yell at me. I know it was a dumb thing to do.’ Erica could feel the tears rising. She cried easily even under normal circumstances, and all the raging hormones of her pregnancy didn’t make things any better. ‘I just wasn’t thinking. I phoned Gaby to find out whether they’d received any threatening letters at the publishing house, and I knew instantly that it was stupid to tell her anything about it. But by then it was too late.’

Patrik handed Erica a tissue and then put his arms around her, stroking her hair. He whispered in her ear:

‘Don’t be upset, sweetheart. I’m sorry I yelled. I know that you didn’t mean for this to happen. Hush now…’ He rocked her in his arms until her sobs began to fade.

‘I never thought that she would…’

‘I know, I know. But she’s a different sort of person than you are. And you need to learn that not everybody thinks the same way.’ He held her at arm’s length and looked at her.

Erica dried her eyes on the tissue he’d given her.

‘What should I do now?’

‘You need to talk to Christian. Apologize and explain.’

‘But I can’t…’

‘Don’t argue. It’s the only solution.’

‘You’re right,’ said Erica. ‘But I have to say, I’m dreading it. And I’m going to have a serious talk with Gaby.’

‘Above all, you need to stop and think next time before you say anything, and consider who you’re talking to. Gaby’s top priority is her publishing company, and the rest of you come second. That’s just the way it is.’

‘Okay, okay, I know that. You don’t need to harp on it.’ Erica glared at her husband.

‘We’ll leave it at that, then,’ said Patrik, and he went back to putting away the groceries.

‘Have you had a chance to take a closer look at the letters?’

‘No, I haven’t had a spare moment,’ said Patrik.

‘But you’ll do it, won’t you?’ Erica persisted.

Patrik nodded as he started cutting up vegetables for dinner.

‘Sure, of course I will. But it would be easier if Christian were cooperating. Then I could have a look at the other letters too.’

‘So talk to him about it. Maybe you can persuade him.’

‘Then he’ll realize that you’re the one who told me about it.’