Johan Theorin - The Darkest Room

The silence hung in the room, before Gerlof replied:

“It was at Ragnar’s little farm, in the winter of 1961. I went out there, because he was refusing to answer the telephone. We quarreled… or rather, we stood and glared at each other. That was our way of quarreling.”

“About what?”

“We quarreled about our inheritance,” said Gerlof. “Not that it helped, but…”

“What inheritance?”

“Everything my mother and father left.”

“What happened to it?” said Tilda.

“A lot disappeared. But it was Ragnar who took it, he did himself proud on it…My brother was a real shit, in fact.”

Tilda looked at the tape recorder, but couldn’t come up with a suitable response.

“Ragnar was a shit, toward me at any rate,” Gerlof went on, shaking his head. “He emptied our parents’ place in Stenvik, sold most of the contents of the house, sold the house to people from the mainland and kept the profit for himself. And he refused to discuss it. He would just stare coldly at me…It was just impossible to get anywhere with him.”

“Did he take everything?” said Tilda.

“I got a few mementos, but Ragnar took the money. Presumably he thought he would be better at taking care of it.”

“But… wasn’t there anything you could do?”

“Sue him, you mean?” said Gerlof. “That isn’t the way we do things here on the island. We become enemies instead. Even brothers, sometimes.”

“But…”

“Ragnar helped himself,” Gerlof went on, “he was the eldest brother after all. He took what he wanted first, then shared with me if he felt like it… so we parted on bad terms, in the fall before he froze to death in the storm.” Gerlof sighed. “‘Let brotherly love continue’ it says in Saint Paul’s Epistle to the Hebrews, but it isn’t always that easy… Of course, that’s the sort of thing I end up thinking about these days.”

Tilda looked at the tape recorder again with a regretful expression. Then she switched it off.

“I think… I think it might be best if I delete this last part. Not because I think you’re lying, Gerlof, but…”

“Fine by me,” said Gerlof.

When Tilda had put the tape recorder away in its black case, he said, “I think I know how it works now. Which buttons you have to press.”

“Good,” said Tilda. “You obviously have a talent for technology, Gerlof.”

“Might you be able to leave it here? Until we see each other again?”

“The tape recorder?”

“Just in case I feel like talking into it some more.”

“Sure.” Tilda passed over the case. “Talk as much as you want. There are a couple of blank tapes you can use.”

When she got back to the police station, the light on the answering machine was flashing. She started to listen to the message, but when she heard Martin’s voice she sighed and pressed Delete.

It was time he gave up.

Joakim was making one last trip with the children before Christmas. It was the first day of the Christmas break and he drove down to Borgholm with them.

There were plenty of people out shopping for Christmas presents. The Westin family went into the big supermarket on the way into town and wandered up and down the long aisles full of food, stocking up on supplies for the holiday.

“What shall we have for Christmas dinner?” asked Joakim.

“Grilled chicken and fries,” said Livia.

“Juice,” said Gabriel.

Joakim bought chicken, fries, and raspberry juice, but also potatoes and sausage and ham and Christmas beer and crackers for himself. He bought frozen minced beef to make meatballs, and when he saw that they were selling Öland eel on the fish counter, he bought some smoked pieces. It had presumably swum past just off Eel Point.

He also bought a couple of pounds of cheese. Katrine had always liked to eat bread with thick slices of this particular cheese at Christmas.

It wasn’t entirely sensible, but the previous week Joakim had actually bought her a Christmas present. He had been down in Borgholm looking for presents for the children, and in the window of a store he had seen a pale green tunic Katrine would have loved. He had gone on to the toy store, but then went back to Danielsson’s boutique and bought the tunic.

“Could I have it gift wrapped please… as a Christmas present,” he had said, and the assistant had handed over a red package with white ribbons.

At the parking lot next to the food store, they were selling Christmas trees wrapped in plastic. Joakim bought a big Nordman fir that was tall enough to reach up to the ceiling on the ground floor. He fastened it onto the roof of the car, then they drove home.

It was cold on the island, minus ten degrees, but there was hardly a breath of wind when they got back to Eel Point. The water was just beginning to freeze again, but there was still only a thin layer of snow on the ground. Joakim’s breath billowed out in white clouds, slowly drifting away, as he carried the bags of food across the courtyard and into the house. Then he brought the tree into the warmth. Thousands of tiny insects would come in too, tucked among the branches, he knew that, but most of them were in the middle of their long winter sleep, and would never wake up.

That would be the best way to die, Joakim thought-in your sleep, without any warning.

He put up the tree in the drawing room, beneath the white ceiling. The table with its high-backed chairs was already here, but not much else. The rooms on the ground floor were feeling more and more empty as Christmas drew closer.

The Westin family spent the rest of the day cleaning and getting everything ready in the house. They had two big cardboard boxes of Christmas decorations to unpack: the Christmas crib, the candlesticks, the red-and-white hand towels for the kitchen, the Christmas stars to hang in the windows, and a goat and a pig made of straw, which they placed on either side of the tree.

When all the Christmas decorations had been unpacked, Livia and Gabriel helped to dress the tree. They had both made paper decorations and wooden figures at nursery school, which they hung up where they could reach, on the lowest branches. On the higher branches Joakim placed tinsel and baubles and Christmas candles, with a golden star right at the top. The tree was ready for Christmas.

Finally they got out the bags of Christmas presents and arranged them under the tree. Joakim placed the gift for Katrine next to the other presents.

Everything fell silent around the tree.

“Is Mommy coming back now?” asked Livia.

“Maybe,” said Joakim.

The children had almost stopped talking about Katrine, but he knew that Livia in particular really missed her. For children the line between what was possible and what was impossible didn’t exist in the same way as for adults. Perhaps it was just a question of wanting to see her enough?

“We’ll have to see what happens,” he said, looking at the pile of packages.

It would be wonderful to see Katrine one last time. To be able to talk to her and say goodbye properly.

The TV weather forecasters had warned of storms and snowfall over Öland and Gotland during Christmas, but two days before the festivities began Joakim looked out of the

window and saw only fine wisps of cloud in the sky. The sun was shining, it was minus six degrees, and there was hardly any wind.

Then he looked at the bird table outside the kitchen window, and had the feeling that a storm was on the way after all.

The table was empty. The fat balls and piles of seed were still there, but there were no birds pecking at them.

Rasputin jumped up onto the counter next to Joakim and confirmed for himself that the table was empty.