Johan Theorin - The Quarry

‘No... I work in marketing surveys.’

‘Right,’ said Max, looking disappointed.

‘I do a fair amount of jogging too,’ said Per, glancing around the table, ‘although that’s more of a hobby. Does anyone else go jogging?’

‘I go running,’ said a voice in the darkness. ‘I’ve done it for years.’ It was Vendela, their hostess. She had large, beautiful eyes.

‘Good,’ said Per, smiling at her.

He wanted to round off the evening now, to say thank you and leave this enormous house — but at that moment Jerry straightened up and looked at Max Larsson. His gaze was suddenly completely clear and focused. ‘Films!’ he said.

Max turned his head. ‘Sorry?’

‘Films and magazines.’

Max laughed a little uncertainly, as if Jerry were teasing him, but Jerry looked annoyed at not being taken seriously. He raised his voice and went on, ‘Me and Bremer and Markus Lukas... films and magazines. Girls!’

There was complete silence around the table now; the last word had made all the guests stop talking and turn to look at Jerry. Only Per kept his eyes downcast.

Jerry himself seemed very happy with the attention, almost proud, and he pointed across the table with a steady finger; Per knew there was no escape.

‘Ask Pelle!’

Per gazed into the distance and tried to give the impression that he wasn’t listening, as if there was no point in listening to Jerry. Eventually he did look at his father, but by that time it was too late.

Jerry had already picked up his old briefcase; he had refused to leave it at home. He quickly undid the straps and pulled something out. It was a brightly coloured magazine, Per saw, made of thick, glossy paper.

His father threw it into the middle of the table, smiling proudly.

The title on the cover was written in red: BABYLON. Beneath the name a naked woman lay sprawled on a sofa, her legs spread wide apart.

Per stood up. The magazine seemed to lie there for an eternity before he leaned over and picked it up. But of course everyone had seen it by then; he noticed Vendela Larsson leaning forward to study the picture, her eyes wide with surprise.

At the same time his father’s voice echoed across the entire veranda: ‘Girls! Naked girls!’

Per didn’t want to wake up the morning after the party, but it happened anyway. It was quarter to nine. He lay there blinking at the ceiling.

It was Maundy Thursday. It was almost the Easter weekend, or had it already started? And how were they going to celebrate it, with the way things were?

He supposed they would just have to celebrate as best they could, as he had promised Nilla. With eggs — fresh eggs and chocolate eggs.

Then Per remembered that his father was in the house, and what had happened at the party the previous evening.

Jerry’s hoarse laughter. Vendela Larsson, smiling nervously at her guests. And the porn magazine, lying there in the middle of the table.

The cottage was silent, but inside his pounding head he could hear echoing voices and shouts. He had drunk too much red wine yesterday, he wasn’t used to it.

‘Markus Lukas,’ Jerry had said several times.

That name and the memory of Vendela’s smile made Per think of Regina, the girl he had met one warm, sunny spring day many years ago. She too had had a quick, slightly nervous smile and a pair of big blue eyes framed by short brown hair, and high cheekbones dusted with freckles.

Had Regina been the first real love of his life? She had certainly seemed much more exciting than the girls at his school. Older, more worldly-wise. They had sat next to each other for several hours in a car one day when he was thirteen years old.

An outing in the car in springtime with a pretty girl should have been straightforward, but not for Per. Regina had been sitting in the back doing her make-up when Jerry and a friend turned up at Anita’s in the Cadillac to pick him up. For once Jerry was on time. They were going to hang out together for the whole of the Easter weekend, father and son.

And how old had Regina been? Several years older than Per, maybe sixteen or seventeen. She had laughed and patted him on the head when he sat down beside her on the leather seat, as if he were just a little boy.

It was Jerry’s fault; as soon as they got in the car he started referring to Per as ‘my lad’.

‘Regina,’ said Jerry, exhaling cigarette smoke as he turned his big black sunglasses towards the back seat and touched the girl’s cheek, ‘this is my lad... Pelle.’

Per wanted to touch the girl’s cheek as well, in the same confident way as his father.

‘My name is Per,’ he said.

Regina laughed and ruffled his hair with her slender white fingers. ‘So how old are you, Per?’

‘Fifteen,’ he lied.

He felt quite grown up, sitting there in Jerry’s car, and he grew bolder and bolder; he ventured a smile at Regina, and realized she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Her quick smile was beautiful, and he became more and more smitten. He kept on stealing glances at her, admiring the sunburnt legs disappearing under her short skirt, the slender hands protruding from her leather jacket. Her fingers fluttered like eager butterflies as she talked to Jerry and the man who was driving. Per could see only the back of the man’s head; he had broad shoulders and thick, black hair, but he was bound to be a friend of Jerry’s. His father had a lot of friends.

They set off, and Per sat next to Regina, feeling his legs and back grow; he didn’t look back to see whether Anita was waving to him, or whether she had gone indoors. He had already forgotten his mother; he was sitting next to Regina, and they were smiling at one another.

The car smelled of cigarettes, as Jerry’s cars always did.

They drove out into the country, and afterwards Per had no idea where they had been — just that they had driven and driven and eventually reached a gravel track surrounded by dense fir trees. A southern Swedish forest.

‘This all right?’ asked the man behind the wheel.

‘Sure,’ said Jerry, coughing. ‘Fantastic, Markus.’

The car pulled up among the trees.

‘Pelle,’ said Jerry when they had all got out, ‘Regina, Markus Lukas and I are going off into the forest for a while.’ He gripped Per firmly by the shoulder, his expression serious. ‘But I have an important job for you here by the car. I want you to keep guard, and I’m going to pay you. That’s the most important thing about jobs — getting paid for them.’

Per nodded — this was his first job. ‘And what if anyone comes?’

Jerry lit a fresh cigarette. He went over and opened the boot. ‘Tell them it’s a military exercise,’ he said with a smile. ‘Tell them we’re shooting here, so nobody is allowed in.’

Per nodded as Jerry and Markus Lukas looped several bags over their shoulders and set off into the trees with Regina. His father waved to him. ‘See you soon. Then it’ll be time for a picnic.’

Per was suddenly alone next to the car. The spring sunshine made the red bodywork gleam, and flies buzzed across the grass.

He took a few steps along the track and looked around. There was no sign of anyone, and not a sound to be heard. When he listened carefully he thought he could hear Regina laughing in the distance, just once. Or was it a scream?

Time passed more and more slowly. The forest surrounding Per felt dark and dense. He thought he heard Regina crying out, several times.

Eventually he left the car. He followed Jerry and the others, without really knowing where they had gone.

A little path wound its way through the trees. He followed it up a steep slope, over a little rise among moss-covered rocks, and down a small hill. He increased his speed, took a few more steps, then suddenly heard male voices, and Regina’s cries. She was screaming deep in the forest — loud, long-drawn-out screams.