Margit Sandemo: The Ice People 18 - Behind the Facade

The thought tickled Ingrid immensely. “Please do, Elisabet,” she asked. “And please point out that I intend to let everyone in the parish know that I was the one who forced them to send Ulvhedin over here. That way, your mother’s reputation won’t be tarnished.”

“Great-grandfather will be so pleased,” Elisabet said, bouncing up and down in her chair with delight. “And Dad as well, because he can see how Great-grandfather is suffering. It’s almost a pity that I’m about to move now. I would love to have seen what the two of you could get up to here.”

Ingrid turned serious. “I’m also sorry that you will be leaving, Elisabet. You’ve been a breath of fresh air in the family. I was looking forward to Sölve or Ingela having company when one of them moved here to take over responsibility for Graastensholm and Linden Avenue.”

But that won’t happen after all, Elisabet thought. Isn’t it wishful thinking?

“From what I gather,” she said somewhat bitterly, “they’ve decided above my head that my future husband, this younger Tark brother, is to move here. How on earth can anyone be called Lillebror?”

“Some people are baptized with that name, so there’s nothing strange about it. Well, anyway that’s good. You’ll be coming back to this parish. Nevertheless, there’s something in your description of Vemund Tark and his family that gives me an unpleasant gut feeling. I think I’ll tell your fortune anyhow. I’ll look a bit into the future.”

Elisabet shouted enthusiastically: “Yes! Will you read my palm? Or tea leaves, or the cards?”

“We don’t need any of that kind of nonsense.”

“Have you got a crystal ball?”

“What would I need that for? Although I would have liked to have something that belonged to this Vemund Tark. Then I would be able to see it all more clearly.”

Elisabet said: “I’m afraid I haven’t anything.”

“Well, let me see your hand.”

Ingrid took the girl’s hand between hers. “It’s not to read the lines, merely to establish a physical and mental link.” She had hardly touched the hand when she gave a start.

“No, this isn’t good at all,” she muttered. “Are you really leaving, Elisabet?”

“The grown-ups seem to be convinced about it. I’m also quite curious about this Lillebror. What can you see?”

“See? I can feel. Opposition to the idea. There’s something sickening about it. Something eerie.”

“Oh, dear!”

“You mustn’t allow yourself to be exploited. There’s a very dominating power ...”

“Wait a moment, I do have something after all! Tark handed me his handkerchief so that I could dry my hands after I’d bandaged young Edvin. I’m afraid it’s soiled with blood, but he said I could keep it. I’ll show you!”

Elisabet searched in her pockets. “No, I changed my frock, didn’t I, when I got back home. Oh, bother. Or ... wait, I put it in my bag!”

Elisabet ran over and fetched her small bag. “Here! Here’s the handkerchief. Sorry it looks a mess!”

“That’s fine!” Ingrid said.

She felt it and held it in her hand.

“This is becoming more difficult than I thought,” Ingrid muttered. “Edvin’s blood is on it: I can feel that rascal’s ideas about women and I can see quite a vagrant life as a farmhand on one farm after another. But I think he’ll calm down in his old age. I believe he was born out of wedlock. There’s no reason to tell his father, Nils, about that! His mother was led sinfully astray! Anyway, I’ve finished with Edvin. Now I’ll go deeper ...”

Ingrid closed her eyes. “Yes, this must be Vemund Tark. Here we have the dominating power I mentioned a while ago. Is he stylish?”

“Well, yes. He’s exactly my type and probably also yours.”

Ingrid nodded. “But don’t allow him to exploit you for his own objectives. I can’t really read his personality ... He’s a lonely wolf, and he is possessed by immense and unfathomable despair. But why? I can feel the unpleasantness but not so strongly here. I don’t understand. May I hold your hand again?”

Elisabet stretched out her hand.

“The opposition,” Ingrid whispered with her eyes closed. “Think very carefully about it, Elisabet! You mustn’t make any mistakes now!”

“Do you see something dangerous?”

“No, there’s no danger. But I seem to see a façade. A wall or something like it. A beautiful, beautiful wall. And the opposition won’t let me in. And the same goes for you.”

“You’re talking in riddles!”

“The future consists of nothing but riddles.”

Ingrid opened her yellow eyes and looked at Elisabet. “It’s behind that façade. That is where it’s to be found. The abominable thing! They’re afraid that it will get out!”

“They?”

“The Tarks. All of them. And Vemund, he’s in it as well. Anyway, he’s stuck in the filth right up to his neck!”

“And Lillebror?”

Ingrid wrinkled her brows. “I can’t see him. He seems so nondescript in this connection. As if he’s hiding. May I have the handkerchief again?”

She was given it straight away. Elisabet was completely engrossed by what she was hearing.

“That rascal, Edvin,” Ingrid muttered. “He keeps interfering with his superficial little escapades. There we go again! I feel it very vaguely ...”

Elisabet breathed out with a tremble, holding her breath so that she did not disturb Ingrid’s thoughts. “I can’t see any more, sorry! I might wash away Edvin’s blood but that would mean that Vemund Tark’s vibrations would also disappear.”

The excitement dissolved.

“Nothing about a dark man who wishes me well, or anything like that?”

“Nonsense! Do you think I’m a walking fortune teller who comes out with crazy guesses just to please?”

“No, far from it,” Elisabet smiled. “I must admit that you’ve frightened me a bit but you’ve also made me curious.”

“Me, too,” Ingrid chuckled. “If I were you, I would go. Just to see what lies behind the wall. Behind the façade.”

“You believe, do you, that I can do that safely?”

“Safely ... You must keep your eyes open. Especially with regard to this Vemund, who might exploit you for his own purposes. I don’t know what that man is up to. I mean, along comes a young and elegant bachelor and sees a lovely girl – and then he proposes on behalf of his brother! Already that is pretty suspicious!”

“Thank you for using the word ‘lovely’,” Elisabet laughed. “To be honest, I think I was somewhat disappointed. Afterwards I was really mad! If I had had a slight weakness for him – because of his pleasant appearance – that emotion died immediately he had finished speaking.”

Ingrid said: “Good. But please remember what I’ve said repeatedly. When it comes to this enigmatic family, don’t make any mistakes! That’s extremely important. Be very careful whom you choose to trust. Honestly, Elisabet: you just can’t imagine the amount of falseness and abomination here!”

Elisabet promised to be vigilant. She looked at her cousin and was intrigued by Ingrid’s fine complexion. She could not see a single wrinkle. The only trace of old age was a certain fatigue and experience of life in the eyes. But of course, it was not the face of a twenty-year-old she saw! Age is a strange entity; no matter how youthful a person may seem, the indefinable, invisible signs are there even so.

“Ingrid, what do you make of marriages of convenience?”

“Both for and against. My son, Daniel, who loves statistics, insists that such marriages can be surprisingly happy. He entered such a marriage himself and it seems to work fine. I suppose my own marriage began with interests that we had in common, but developed into a lovely relationship. Why do you ask? Are you scared at the thought of marrying someone you’ve never seen?”