Johan Theorin - The Darkest Room

“Mommy,” she said.

He was prepared now. But he was still unsure if she was really asleep, or simply in some kind of half-awake trance-and he was just as unsure if this conversation was really any good for her. Or for him.

“Where is she?” he asked. “Where’s Mommy?”

Joakim watched her lift her right hand from the coverlet and wave it feebly. He turned his head, but of course saw nothing in the shadows.

He looked down at his daughter again.

“Can Katrine… does Mommy want to say anything to me?”

No reply. When he asked longer questions, there was hardly ever a reply.

“Where is she?” he asked again. “Where’s Mommy, Livia?”

Still no reply.

Joakim thought for a moment, then asked slowly, “What was Mommy doing on the jetty? Why did she go down to the sea?”

“She wanted to… find out.”

“Find out what?”

“The truth.”

“The truth? Who from?”

Livia was silent.

“Where’s Mommy now?” he asked.

“Close.”

“Has she… is she in the house?”

Livia didn’t respond. Joakim could feel that Katrine was not in the house. She was staying away.

“Can you talk to her now?” he asked. “Is she listening?”

“She’s watching.”

“Can she see us?”

“Maybe.”

Joakim held his breath. He searched for the right questions.

“What can you see now, Livia?”

“There’s someone on the shore… by the lighthouses.”

“That must be Mommy. Has she-”

“No,” said Livia. “Ethel.”

“What?”

“It’s Ethel.”

Joakim went completely cold.

“No,” he said. “That can’t be her name.”

“Yes.”

“No, Livia.”

He had raised his voice, almost yelled.

“Yes. Ethel wants to talk.”

Joakim was still sitting on the bed, incapable of moving. “I… don’t want to talk,” he said. “Not to her.”

“She wants-”

“No,” said Joakim quickly. His heart was pounding, his mouth was dry. “Ethel can’t be here.”

Livia was silent again.

He couldn’t breathe anymore-he just wanted to escape from this room. But he stayed there on the edge of Livia’s bed, stiff and terrified. And all the time his eyes were flicking over toward the half-open door.

The house was completely silent.

Livia lay motionless beneath the covers now, her head still turned away from Joakim. He could hear the faint sound of her breathing.

In the end he managed to stand up, and forced himself to go out into the dark corridor.

The night outside was light; the full moon had found itself a place among the clouds and was shining in through the freshly painted windows. But Joakim didn’t want to look out; he was afraid he might see the thin face of a woman staring in at him, her expression filled with hatred.

He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the floor and went into the porch, where he saw that the outside door to the veranda was not locked. Why could he never remember to lock it before he went to bed?

Well, from now on he would definitely remember.

He quickly walked over and turned the key, with a brief glance toward the shadows in the inner courtyard.

Then he turned around and crept back to bed. He pulled Katrine’s soft nightgown from under his pillow, clutching it tightly beneath the covers.

After that night Joakim decided not to ask Livia about her dreams anymore. He didn’t want to encourage her any longer, and had begun to be afraid of her answers.

On Friday morning, after driving the children to Marnäs and before carrying on with the renovation of the ground floor, he did something that felt ridiculous yet at the same time important. He went around the manor talking to his dead older sister.

He went into the kitchen and stood by the table.

“Ethel,” he said, “you can’t stay here.”

Talking to her should have made him feel foolish, but all Joakim felt was grief and loneliness. Then he went outside, blinking against the cold wind blowing off the sea, and said quietly, “Ethel… I’m sorry. But you’re not welcome here.”

Finally he went over to the barn, pulled open the big door, and stood in the doorway.

“Ethel, go away.”

He didn’t expect a reply from his dead sister, and he didn’t get one. But he felt better, just a little bit better-as if he were keeping her at a distance.

On Saturday the family had visitors: their former neighbors from Stockholm, Lisa and Michael Hesslin. They had called a few days earlier and asked if they could stay over on Öland on their way back from Denmark. Joakim had been pleased-both he and Katrine had enjoyed having Lisa and Michael as their neighbors.

“Joakim,” said Lisa when they had parked the car and come into the hallway. She hugged him, for a long time. “We really wanted to come and see how… Are you tired?”

“A little,” he said, patting her.

“You look a little tired. You must make sure you get some sleep.”

Joakim just nodded.

Michael patted him on the shoulder and moved into the house, his expression curious.

“I see you’ve been carrying on with the work here,” he said. “Fantastic skirting boards.”

“They’re original,” said Joakim, following him out into the corridor. “I’ve just sanded them down and painted them.”

“And you’ve chosen exactly the right wallpaper border. It really fits in with the soul of the house.”

“Thanks, that was the idea.”

“Are you doing all the rooms in white?”

“Down here on the ground floor, yes.”

“Looks good,” said Michael. “Cool and harmonious.”

For the first time Joakim felt a faint pride in what they had achieved so far. He had carried on with what Katrine had started, in spite of everything.

Lisa walked into the kitchen and nodded approvingly.

“Wonderful… but have you had a feng shui consultant here?”

“Feng shui?” said Joakim. “I don’t think so… is it important?”

“Absolutely. It’s really important to know how the flow of energy works, particularly here on the coast.” Lisa looked around and placed a hand on her chest. “There are powerful earth energies here too…I can feel them. And they must be able to flow without any kind of impediment, in and out of the house.”

“I’ll bear it in mind.”

“We’ve got a fantastic feng shui consultant who reorganized our cottage on Gotland. I’ll give you her number.”

Joakim nodded and heard Katrine giggling inside his head. She had always laughed at Lisa’s spirituality.

They had an excellent dinner at the kitchen table that evening. Joakim fried some plaice, which he had bought in

Marnäs. The guests had brought a bottle of white wine, and he drank a glass for the first time in many years. It didn’t taste particularly good, but he relaxed a little and was almost able to forget Livia’s talk of his dead sister in her sleep.

Livia herself was bright and cheerful this evening. She sat at the table with them and told Lisa about her three teachers at preschool-how two of them would nip outside for a secret cigarette, although they told the children they were just going out for some fresh air.

Michael told the children about a female elk and her calf they had seen running along the road as they were driving through Småland. Gabriel and Livia listened avidly.

Both children were excited by the visit from the big city, and it was difficult to get them to change into their pajamas and go to bed. Gabriel fell asleep straightaway, but Livia asked Lisa to read her a story about Emil’s mischievous adventures.

After twenty minutes Lisa came back into the kitchen.

“Has she gone to sleep?” asked Joakim.