Åke Edwardson - Sun and Shadow

He could hear noises on the other side of the door now. Ringmar looked at Winter. The noise grew louder. Winter could hear the music. Morelius looked confused, in the faint light on the landing. Winter could hear the guitars, the drums, the voice hissing and gurgling though the door. He was incapable of moving now. Ringmar did the shooting. Second time lucky, Winter thought. Morelius and Ringmar kicked in the door, forced their hands through the shattered plywood. Blood was pouring from Ringmar’s hands. Morelius shouted something he couldn’t make out. Ringmar’s yell seemed to come from another planet.

They were in. He could hear the shouts. His body detached itself from the stone floor of the landing. He started running. He flew.

Angela gave birth to Elsa at 3:15 A.M., two days after her due date. The girl weighed eight pounds, eight ounces and was nearly nineteen inches long. Winter kept dozing off, and handed the camera to the midwife.

He held Elsa close to his chest. She was asleep. Her hair was dark, and he was surprised by how dense it was. They said she had his nose and ears. He wept and hummed “You Leave Me Breathless” into those ears. For the last couple of weeks he had played nothing but Coltrane, and prayed for the future. The interrogation room was for others. He read the transcripts, but never went in there.

Angela leaned over and said something. He looked up when she repeated it. Yes, he agreed, it’s a miracle.

Angela was radiant. It really was a miracle. One of these days it would all come back to her, but not now, he thought. Perhaps never. She was strong, stronger than he was.

They’d phoned Spain and he’d quickly handed the receiver to Angela.

The sun was emerging from behind the hills as he left the maternity clinic. He seemed to be entering a new world. The new year smelled different. It was spring. He could envisage the child going to school, playing in the street, throwing something. Did young kids still play marbles?

He got the sun in his eyes and lowered the visor. He drove away from Mölndal, but found it more and more difficult to see because of the tears in his eyes.

An elderly gentleman he didn’t recognize passed him as he was walking up the last flight of stairs. A gentleman visitor for Mrs. Malmer.

There was a different smell inside the flat. Not much different from outside. He opened all the windows. He went to the kitchen and opened a bottle, filled a crystal glass and drank.

Bartram had thanked him. Thanked him personally. Bartram had wanted to be saved, but he’d wanted to make it difficult for them. He’d come as close to Winter as it was possible to get.

Angela had come to no harm physically.

There had been a photograph hanging on the wall in Bartram’s bedroom. A young man and a young woman. They were holding hands. Winter had taken a closer look. Their faces had been cut out and exchanged. He was she and she was he. The man’s face was Bartram’s. Younger.

Winter went to the living room that looked out onto the park, and stood in the window.

He drank away his thoughts. Two more days and there’d be an extra resident in the apartment. He took another sip, the champagne tripped off his tongue. He turned around, and felt a twinge in his left knee. He almost lost his balance, paused for a moment, then went into the kitchen and put his glass on the draining board.