Хеннинг Манкелль - The Man from Beijing

When she got home and opened her garden gate, it started snowing, and the wind increased.

That same day she went to the district court and spoke to Hans Mattsson, She could see that he was worried and dejected when she told him that she was still on sick leave.

He peered pensively at her over his glasses.

‘That doesn’t sound good. I’m starting to worry about you.’

‘You don’t need to, according to my doctor. The blood counts aren’t what they should be, and my blood pressure needs to be reduced. I’m being referred to a specialist. But I don’t feel ill, just a bit tired.’

‘Aren’t we all?’ said Hans Mattsson. ‘I’ve been feeling tired for the last thirty years. The biggest pleasure I have to look forward to nowadays is when I can sleep in.’

‘I’ll be off for another two weeks. Then we’ll just have to hope that it’s sorted itself out.’

‘Take as long as you need. I’ll speak to the National Courts Administration and see what they can do to help us out. As you know, you’re not the only one who’s away. Klas Hansson has leave of absence to chair an inquiry for the EU in Brussels. I doubt if he’ll ever come back. I’ve always suspected that he’s been tempted by grander things than presiding over a court of law.’

‘I’m sorry to cause you problems.’

‘You’re not causing me problems. It’s your blood pressure that’s doing that. Have a rest. Look after your roses and come back when you are healthy again.’

She looked at him in surprise. ‘I don’t grow roses. I certainly don’t have a green thumb.’

‘That’s what my grandmother used to say. When you were told not to work so much, she thought you should concentrate on growing your imaginary roses. I think it’s a nice image. My grandmother was born in 1879. The same year as Strindberg published The Red Room. An odd thought. The only thing she ever did in her life, apart from giving birth to children, was darn socks.’

‘OK, I’ll do that,’ said Birgitta Roslin. ‘I’ll go home and look after my roses.’

The next day she posted the diaries and her notes to Hudiksvall. When she handed over the parcel and was given the receipt, she had the feeling she was closing a door on the happenings in Hesjövallen. She felt relieved, and committed herself to the preparations for Staffan’s birthday party.

Most of the family plus several friends were assembled when Staffan Roslin came home after being in charge of an afternoon train from Alvesta to Malmö and then travelling off-duty to Helsingborg. He stood in the doorway in his uniform plus a shaggy old fur hat, struck dumb, while the welcoming party sang ‘Happy Birthday to You’. It was a relief for Birgitta to see everyone sitting around the table. What had happened in Hälsingland, as well as her high blood pressure, seemed less important when she was able to drink in the feeling of calm that only her family could give her. Naturally, she wished Anna had been able to come home from Asia, but she had declined the invitation when Birgitta finally reached her via a noisy mobile phone connection in Thailand. It was very late by the time the guests had left and only family members remained. She had talkative children who loved to spend time together. She and her husband sat on the sofa, listening with amused interest to the conversations. She occasionally topped up everybody’s glass. The twins, Siv and Louise, were goingto sleep in the spare room, but David had booked himself into a hotel, despite Birgitta’s protests. It was four in the morning when the party broke up. Only the parents were left to clean up, fill the dishwasher and put the empty bottles in the garage.

‘That really was a lovely surprise,’ said Staffan when they eventually sat down at the kitchen table. ‘I’ll never forget it. I feel so positive. Earlier on I was feeling utterly fed up with wandering back and forth through train carriages. I spend all my time travelling, but I never arrive anywhere. That’s the curse of train drivers and conductors. We spend all our time in our glass bubbles.’

‘We should do this more often. Let’s face it, it’s at moments like this that life takes on a different meaning. Not just duty and doing what needs to be done.’

‘And now?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re going to be off work for another two weeks. What are you going to do?’

‘Hans Mattsson talks passionately about his longing to sleep in. Maybe that’s what I should do for a few days.’

‘Go somewhere warm for a week. Take one of your friends with you.’

She shook her head doubtfully. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. But who?’

‘Karin Wiman?’

‘She’s going to China, to work.’

‘Isn’t there anybody else you could ask? Maybe you could go away with one of the twins?’

That was a very tempting thought. ‘I’ll see what they have to say. But first I need to find out if I really can go off somewhere. Don’t forget that I need to see a specialist.’

He stretched out a hand and placed it on her arm. ‘I hope you’re telling me the whole story. Do I need to be worried?’

‘No. Not unless my doctor is lying to me. But I don’t think he is.’

They sat up for a bit longer before going to bed. When she woke up later that morning Staffan had already left. So had the twins. She had slept until half past eleven. A Hans Mattsson morning, she thought.

She spoke on the telephone to Siv and Louise after lunch, but neither of them had time to go away, although they would both have loved to take a holiday with their mother. She also received a call informing her that due to a cancellation, she would be able to see the specialist the following day.

At about four there was a ring at the door. She wondered if she was about to receive another free Chinese meal. But when she opened it, she found Detective Chief Inspector Hugo Malmberg standing there with snow in his hair and old-fashioned overshoes on his feet.

‘I happened to bump into Hans Mattsson. He mentioned that you were unwell — in confidence, as he knows we’re old friends.’

She let him in. Despite his huge size, he had no problem bending down to take off his overshoes.

They sat in the kitchen and drank coffee. She told him about her high blood pressure and blood counts, and that it was not unusual for women of her age.

‘My high blood pressure is ticking away like a time bomb inside me,’ said Malmberg glumly. ‘I take medication, and my doctor says the readings are OK; but I’m worried even so. Nobody in my family has ever died of a tumour. Everybody, women as well as men, has been floored by strokes and heart attacks. Every day I have to make an effort to overcome my worries.’

‘I’ve been in Hudiksvall,’ said Roslin. ‘You were the one who gave me Vivi Sundberg’s name. Did you know I went there?’

‘It comes as a surprise, I have to admit.’

‘Do you remember the circumstances? I discovered that I was related to one of the families murdered in Hesjövallen. Since then it’s become clear that all the murder victims were related through marriage. Do you have time?’

‘My answering machine says I’m out on police business for the rest of the day. As I’m not on standby, I can sit here all night if need be.’

‘Until the cows come home? Isn’t that what they say?’

‘Or until the riders of the Apocalypse thunder past and annihilate us all. Anyway, entertain me with all the horrors I don’t need to get involved in.’

‘Are you being cynical?’

He frowned, and growled. ‘Don’t you know me better than that? After all these years? I’m offended.’

‘That wasn’t the intention.’

‘Fire away. I’m listening.’