Camilla Lackberg - The Preacher

‘Damn, this is great! I’m going to take this stuff to the office tomorrow and go through it more carefully, but it looks fantastic.’

He went over to stand behind her at the stove and put his arms around her swollen belly.

‘I didn’t mean to complain. I’m just concerned about you and the baby.’

‘I know.’ Erica turned to face him and put her arms round his neck. ‘But I’m not made of porcelain, and if women in the old days could work in the fields until they pretty much gave birth on the spot, I can certainly sit in a library and turn pages with no ill effects.’

‘Okay, I know.’ He sighed. ‘As soon as we get rid of our lodgers, we can pay more attention to each other. And promise me that you’ll tell me if you want me to stay home. The station knows that I’ve volunteered to work during my holiday and that you take precedence.’

‘I promise. But now help me get the dinner ready and maybe the kids will calm down.’

‘I doubt it. Maybe we should give them each a shot of whisky before dinner, so they’ll fall asleep.’ He gave her a wink and then laughed.

‘Ooh, you’re terrible. Give one to Conny and Britta instead, then we’ll at least have them in a good mood.’

Patrik did as she suggested, casting a mournful glance at the hastily dropping level in the bottle of his best single-malt. If Erica’s relatives stayed another couple of days, his whisky supply would never be the same.

She opened her eyes with great caution. The reason was a splitting headache that produced shooting pains to the very roots of her hair. But the strange thing was that there was no difference in what she saw when she opened her eyes. It was still the same dense darkness. In a moment of panic she thought that she had gone blind. Maybe there was something wrong with that homebrew she had drunk yesterday. She’d heard stories about that stuff – young people who went blind drinking home-made rotgut. But after a few seconds her surroundings hazily began to emerge, and she understood that there was nothing wrong with her eyesight; she was somewhere with very little light. She looked up to check whether she could see a starry sky, or maybe some moonlight if she were lying outdoors somewhere, but she realized immediately that it never got this dark in the summertime. She should have been able to see the ethereal light of a Nordic summer night.

She touched the surface she was lying on and picked up a fistful of sandy soil, which she let run between her fingers. There was a strong odour of humus, a sickly sweet smell, and she had a sense of being underground. Panic set in. Along with claustrophobia. Without knowing how big the space was she had an image of walls slowly closing in on her. She clutched at her throat when it felt like the air was running out, but then forced herself to take some calm, deep breaths to keep the panic at bay.

It was cold, and she understood all at once that she was naked except for her knickers. Her body ached, and she shivered, wrapping her arms round herself and drawing her knees up to her chin. The first wave of panic now gave way to a terror so strong that she could feel it gnawing at her bones. How had she got here? And why? Who had undressed her? The only thing her mind told her was that she probably didn’t want to know the answers to those questions. Something evil had happened to her but she didn’t know what – that in itself multiplied the terror that was paralysing her.

A streak of light appeared on her hand, and she automatically raised her eyes towards its source. A little crack of light was visible against the velvet-dark blackness. She forced herself to her feet and screamed for help. No response. She stood on tiptoe and tried to reach the source of the light but wasn’t even close. Instead she could feel water dripping on her upturned face. The drops became a steady trickle and she realized at once how thirsty she was. Without thinking she opened her mouth to drink. At first most of it ran down her face, but soon she discovered the proper technique and drank greedily. Then a mist seemed to settle over everything, and the room began to spin. After that, only darkness.

Linda woke up early for a change but tried to go back to sleep. It had been a late night with Stefan, and she felt almost hung over from lack of sleep. But for the first time in months she heard rain on the roof. The room that Jacob and Marita had fixed up for her was just under the roof-ridge, and the sound of the rain on the roof tiles was so loud that it seemed to echo between her temples.

At the same time, it was the first morning in ages that she had woken up to a cool bedroom. The heat had been constant for almost two months, breaking records for the hottest summer in a hundred years. At first she had welcomed the blazing sunshine, but the pleasure of novelty had vanished several weeks ago. Instead she had begun to hate waking up each morning to sweat-drenched sheets. So the fresh, cool air that now swept in under the roof-beams was all the more enjoyable. Linda threw off the thin covers and let her body feel the pleasant temperature. Contrary to habit, she decided to get up before someone chased her out of bed. It might be nice not to eat breakfast by herself for a change. Downstairs in the kitchen she could hear the noise of breakfast being prepared, and she pulled on a short kimono and stuck her feet in a pair of slippers.

In the kitchen her early arrival was met with looks of surprise. The whole family was assembled: Jacob, Marita, William and Petra, and their muted conversation stopped short when Linda flung herself down on an empty chair and began buttering some bread.

‘It’s nice that you want to keep us company for a change, but I’d appreciate it if you put on some more clothes when you come downstairs. Think of the children.’

Jacob was so bloody sanctimonious that it made her sick. Just to irk him further, Linda let her thin kimono slip open a bit so that one breast could be seen through the opening. His face turned white with rage, but for some reason he didn’t take up the fight and let the matter drop. William and Petra looked at her in fascination. She made faces at them, causing them both to erupt in spasms of giggles. The children were actually quite sweet, she had to admit, but Jacob and Marita would ruin them soon enough. When the kids were done with their religious upbringing they wouldn’t have any joy left in life.

‘Now you children settle down. Sit up straight at the table when you’re eating. Take your feet off the chair, Petra, and sit like a big girl. And close your mouth when you eat, William. I don’t want to see what you’re chewing.’

The laughter vanished from the children’s faces and they sat up straight like two tin soldiers with empty, vacant eyes. Linda sighed to herself. Sometimes she couldn’t believe that she and Jacob were actually related. No siblings were more unlike than she and Jacob; she was convinced of that. It was so damned unfair that he was their parents’ favourite, always praised to the skies, while he did nothing but pick at her. Was it her fault that she had arrived unplanned, long after they had decided to leave their baby-rearing years behind? Or that Jacob’s illness so many years before she was born had made them unwilling to have another child? Naturally she understood the seriousness of the fact that he almost died, but why did she have to take the blame for it? She wasn’t the one who had made him sick.

All the coddling they had showered on Jacob had just continued on, even after he had completely recovered. It was as if their parents regarded each day of his life as a gift from God, while her life caused them only trouble and difficulty. And then there was the relationship between Grandfather and Jacob. She certainly understood that they had a special bond, after what Grandfather had done for Jacob, but that shouldn’t mean that there wasn’t any room for his other grandchildren. Of course, Grandfather had died before she was born, so she never had to face his indifference, but she knew from Stefan that he and Robert had landed in Grandfather’s disfavour and they saw all the attention focused on their cousin Jacob. Surely the same thing would have happened to her if Grandfather were still alive.