Хеннинг Манкелль - After the Fire

‘That’s good — it means you don’t have to be alone.’

We went up to the ruins; the smell of the fire still lingered, although it wasn’t quite as strong now.

I felt an overwhelming urge to put my arms around her, to let my frozen hands find their way inside her clothes. But of course I did no such thing.

We stood looking at the ruins.

‘What are you thinking now?’ she asked. ‘Now a little time has passed?’

‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘I still don’t understand what’s happened.’

‘I have to be honest,’ she said. ‘Apparently the prosecutor’s office has decided to embark on a preliminary investigation which will probably lead to charges against you. As the house was fully insured, the assumption is that the motive was insurance fraud. But you still claim you know nothing?’

‘About the fire or the charges?’

‘Both.’

‘Absolutely. If I hadn’t woken up, I would have burned to death. In which case it would have been a successful suicide attempt, not insurance fraud.’

She pushed the sou’wester into her raincoat pocket. I noticed that her hair was even shorter now.

‘I have to write about this,’ she said. ‘But I’m only allowed a short piece, not a more detailed report.’

‘It would be better if you wrote that I didn’t set fire to my house and that all those who are spreading rumours should be chased down into hell.’

‘That’s not where prosecutors and police officers usually end up.’

I went up the hill; Lisa followed at a distance. Why was she here? Did she think I was going to confess to starting the fire?

I sat down on the bench while she stood a little way off, gazing out to sea. Suddenly she pointed.

‘Look!’

I followed her finger but couldn’t see anything. However, when I got to my feet I understood. Beyond the skerry where I had pitched my tent, the wind was stronger; a windsurfer dressed all in black was heading straight out to sea at high speed. They were often around in the summer, but never this late in the autumn. In contrast to normal practice, the little sail and the board were also black. From this distance it looked as if the man or woman was skimming across the surface of the water on bare feet.

‘He must be freezing cold,’ Lisa said. ‘What if he loses his grip?’

We watched the windsurfer until he disappeared behind Låga Höholmen. After a while he popped up on the other side, still heading straight out to sea. Something about the sight of him, the black sail, the speed, made me feel ill at ease. What kind of person does that on a bitter October day?

I seized Lisa’s hand. It was cold. She let me hold it for a little while before she gently withdrew it.

A dry twig snapped behind us. I turned to see Louise on her way up the hill. Lisa saw her at the same time. Louise’s hair was all over the place, and she seemed upset. Her expression was hostile to say the least.

‘This is Lisa Modin,’ I said. ‘She’s a friend.’

Lisa held out her hand, but Louise didn’t take it.

‘Louise is my daughter.’

Lisa had immediately picked up on Louise’s animosity. They stood there staring at one another.

Louise turned to me. ‘Why haven’t you told me about her?’

‘We haven’t known each other very long.’

‘Are you sleeping together?’

Lisa Modin gasped. Then she started to laugh.

‘No,’ I said. ‘No, we’re not.’

Louise was about to speak, but Lisa got there first.

‘I don’t know why you’re being so unpleasant. Just to clarify things: I wanted to ask your father some questions. I’m a journalist. I’ve got my answers, and now I’m going to leave.’

‘What was it you wanted to know?’

Lisa glanced at me, but I had nothing to say. This was about me, but I wasn’t a part of what was going on.

‘The police believe the fire was the result of arson. That means your father is a suspect.’

Both Lisa and I were completely taken aback when Louise stepped forward and yelled, ‘Get the fuck out of here! It’s hard enough without journalists running around all over the place!’

Lisa was dumbstruck. I could see the anger in her eyes, but she walked away, down the hill. She got into Jansson’s waiting boat, and Louise and I stood watching as he started the engine and disappeared around the headland.

The wind was even stronger now. My daughter had robbed me of one of the few hopes I had for the future: that Lisa Modin might become more than a passing acquaintance, more than someone I showed around the archipelago from time to time.

‘I want you to leave,’ I said. ‘If you’re going to chase away the few people I like, I don’t want you here.’

‘Do you really think she’s interested in you? She’s at least thirty years younger than you!’

‘She hasn’t let me down so far. Even if we’re not sleeping together.’

We didn’t say anything else. By the time we got down to the caravan, the wind speed had increased further. I looked at the dark clouds piling up in the west; if it had been a little later in the year, I would have expected snow overnight.

We ate dinner together, then drank a cup of tea. I don’t like the blend Louise favours. It tastes of unidentifiable herbs, which doesn’t appeal to me at all. But of course I didn’t say anything.

We were both tired. We reached a tacit decision that I would sleep in the caravan. We played cards until it was late enough to go to bed. Louise lay awake for a long time, but eventually her breathing became deeper and heavier. Then I fell asleep too.

The following day I rowed across to the skerry to look for my watch. Louise didn’t want to come with me because she wasn’t feeling well.

Perhaps that was when I really grasped the fact that she was pregnant. Now I got it. My daughter was going to have a child, and I hadn’t a clue who the father was.

I rowed slowly, trying to picture this unknown man, but there was only a crowd of men milling around, as if the gates had just opened before a football match.

I spent a long time searching for my watch, but without success. I even pulled out a few tent pegs to see if it might somehow have ended up under the groundsheet, but it was nowhere to be seen. My watch had disappeared, and that was that.

For two days nothing much happened. The wind rose and fell, at times almost reaching gale force. Louise and I spent most of our time in the caravan. I resumed my habit of taking a dip in the cold water in the mornings. I tried to persuade Louise to come with me, but she refused. When I had finished, she washed herself at the water pump. I could hear her puffing and blowing, cursing the icy water.

I wondered why we were behaving so oddly: two adults who couldn’t bring themselves to discuss the new generation that was on its way. What was it that made both of us so ill equipped for something that would be a normal conversation for normal people?

We did, however, talk about the matter of rebuilding the house. As long as the police investigation was ongoing and the prosecutor was considering his options, I wouldn’t receive a payout from the insurance company, but we couldn’t stay in the caravan when the winter came.

At around lunchtime on the second day I called my insurance company. It took a while to get through to someone who was able to access my details. He introduced himself as Jonas Andersson. I searched my memory, but I had no recollection of ever having met him. He spoke much too quickly and seemed keen to end the conversation as soon as possible. He hadn’t heard about the fire because I hadn’t yet submitted a claim. Nor had he read anything about the suspicion that the fire had been started deliberately. Perhaps I was speaking to a young man who belonged to the generation that had given up reading altogether — not just newspapers, but books as well?