The Gallows Bird (46 page)

He sobbed and then gasped for breath, trying to force some air into his throat, which felt so tight. Somebody outside tried the door handle and he saw a woman’s face staring at him in shock. The woman was moving oddly, reeling, and with surprise he recognized the smell of that other woman. The one who existed only in his memory. He smelled the same sharp odour that had come out of her mouth, settling on her skin and clothing. After everything soft had disappeared. Then he felt himself dragged out of the car, and he understood that the woman had come from the other car, the one that had crashed head-on into theirs. She went round to pull sister out, and he studied her closely. He would never forget her face.

Afterwards there had been so many questions. Such strange questions.

‘Where are you from?’ they had asked. ‘From the forest,’ they answered, not understanding why that response had caused such frustrated expressions. ‘Yes, but where did you come from before that, before the house in the forest?’ They had just stared at the people asking, without understanding what they were supposed to say. ‘From the forest’ was the only answer they could give. Of course he had thought about the salty place with the screeching birds. But he never said anything about that. All he really knew was the forest.

He mostly tried not to think about the years that followed those questions. If he’d known how cold and evil the rest of the world was, he never would have nagged her to take them outside the forest. He would have gladly stayed in that little house, with her, with sister, in their own world, which in hindsight seemed so wonderful. In comparison. But that was a guilt he had to bear. He had caused what happened. He hadn’t believed that he was a jinx. Hadn’t believed that he brought misfortune down upon himself and others. He was the one to blame for the dead look in her eyes.

During the years that followed, sister was the only reason he kept going. The two of them were united against all those who tried to break them down and make them just as ugly as the world outside. They were different. Together they were different. In the dark of night they always found consolation in each other and were able to escape the horrors of the day. His skin against hers. Her breath mingled with his.

And finally he also found a way to share the guilt. Sister was always there to help him. Always together. Always. Together.

The first bars of Mendelssohn’s wedding march echoed through the church. Patrik felt his mouth go dry. He looked at Erica standing next to him and fought back tears. He had to draw the line somewhere. He couldn’t very well walk down the aisle sobbing. But he was just so incredibly happy. He squeezed Erica’s hand and got a big smile in return.

He couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked. Or that she was standing next to him. For a second he had a flashback from his first wedding, when he married Karin. But the memory vanished as quickly as it came. As far as he was concerned, this was the first time. This was for real. Everything else had been only a dress rehearsal, a detour, a preparation for the moment when he would get to walk to the altar with Erica, and promise to love her in sickness and in health, for as long as he lived.

Now the doors were opened into the church, and they began walking slowly forward as the organist played and all the smiling faces turned towards them. He looked at Erica again, and his own smile grew even broader. Her dress was cut simply, with small embroidered accents in white on white, and it suited her perfectly. Her hair was done up loosely, with a few locks hanging freely here and there. White flowers were fastened like tiny jewels in her hair, and she wore simple pearl earrings. She was so beautiful. Once again tears welled up in his eyes, but he stubbornly blinked them back. He was determined to get through this without crying, that’s all there was to it.

They saw friends and relatives sitting in the pews. Everyone from the station was there. Even Mellberg had squeezed into a suit and coiled up his hair with a bit more flair. Neither he nor Gösta had brought dates, while Martin, who was Patrik’s best man, had his Pia with him and Annika had her Lennart. Patrik was glad to see all of them there. Together. The day before yesterday he hadn’t thought he’d be able to go through with the ceremony. When he saw Hanna and Lars disappear into the deep, he was overwhelmed by a sorrow and a weariness that were so painful that he couldn’t even imagine celebrating a wedding. But when he came home, Erica put him to bed, and he had slept for twenty-four hours straight. And when Erica told him a bit timidly that they’d been offered a night with dinner at Stora Hotellet and asked whether he felt up to it, he decided that was exactly what he needed. To spend time alone with Erica, have a good meal, sleep next to her, and just talk and talk.

By today he felt more than ready. The blackness, the evil, now seemed far away, banished from a place like this. From a day like this.

They reached the altar rails and the ceremony began. Pastor Harald spoke about love as requiring patience and kindness, he spoke about Maja and about how Patrik and Erica had found each other. He succeeded in finding just the right words to describe both of them and the way they viewed their life together.

Maja heard her name mentioned and decided she didn’t want to sit on her grandpa’s knee anymore; she wanted to be with Mamma and Pappa, who for some strange reason were standing up in front in this unfamiliar house wearing funny clothes. Kristina struggled for a moment to make Maja sit still, but after a nod from Patrik she released her into the aisle and let her crawl forward. Patrik picked her up, and with Maja on his arm he put the wedding ring on Erica’s finger. When they finally kissed each other for the first time as husband and wife, Maja pressed her face against theirs with a laugh, enchanted by this amusing game. At that moment Patrik felt like the richest man in the world. The tears came again, and this time he couldn’t stop them. He pretended to cuddle Maja so he could discreetly wipe off the tears on her clothes, but he quickly realized that he wasn’t fooling anyone. And what did it matter anyway? When Maja was born he had cried without restraint, so he ought to be able to allow himself a few tears on his wedding day as well.

Martin held Maja as Patrik and Erica slowly walked out of the church. After waiting in a side room for everyone to pass by, they went out on the church steps and were showered with rice, while the cameras clicked and flashed. The tears came again. Patrik let them flow.

Erica rested her feet for a bit, wiggling her toes now that they had been mercifully freed from the white high-heeled shoes. Darn it, how her feet hurt. But she felt incredibly pleased with the day. The wedding had been wonderful. The dinner at the hotel had been superb, and there had been plenty of solemn speeches. What had moved her most was the speech that Anna made. Her sister had to pause several times because her voice broke and the tears fell. She had talked about how much she loved her sister, and she wove the serious bits of her speech together with funny anecdotes from their childhood. Then she had touched on the difficult time just past, and concluded by saying that Erica had always been both sister and mother to her, but now she had also become her best friend. Those words had warmed Erica’s heart, and she had to wipe her eyes with the serviette.

But now the dinner was over and the dancing had been going on for a couple of hours. Erica had worried about Kristina’s verdict, considering all the objections she’d had to their wedding plans. But her mother-in-law had surprised her. She had really cut a rug on the dance floor, including with Patrik’s pappa Lars, and now she was drinking liqueur and talking to Bittan, his girlfriend. Erica was baffled.

When her feet had recovered a bit, Erica decided to go out and get some fresh air. Inside the hall the air had grown hot and stuffy from all the dancing and warm bodies, and she longed to feel a cool breeze against her skin. With a grimace she put her shoes back on. Just as she was about to get up she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

‘And how is my dear wife doing?’

Erica looked up at Patrik and grabbed his hand. He looked happy but dishevelled. His suit no longer fitted properly after a couple of rounds of the jive with Bittan. Erica had noted that her husband wasn’t the best dancer when it came to the jive. But he got points for enthusiasm.

‘I thought I’d go out and get some air, are you coming?’ said Erica, leaning on him, as the pain stabbed through her feet.

‘Whither thou goest, I will go,’ Patrik intoned, and Erica noted with amusement that he was a little tipsy. Good thing they only had to walk up one flight of stairs later on.

They went out on the steps leading down to the flagstone courtyard, and Patrik was just about to open his mouth to say something when Erica shushed him. Something had caught her eye.

She motioned to Patrik to follow her. They moved cautiously towards the people Erica had seen. Nobody could claim that they moved noiselessly. Patrik giggled and was about to stumble over an urn full of flowers, but the man and woman who stood embracing in a dark corner of the garden didn’t seem aware of the noise.

‘Who’s that over there making out?’ Patrik said in a stage whisper.

‘Shh,’ Erica said again, but she too had a hard time not laughing. All the champagne and all the good wine with dinner had gone straight to her head. She crept forward another step. Then she stopped short and turned to Patrik, who abruptly bumped into her. Both of them stifled a giggle.

‘Let’s go back,’ said Erica.

‘Why? Who is it?’ said Patrik, craning his neck to try and see. But the couple was so tightly entwined that it was hard to make out either face.

‘You idiot, it’s Dan. And Anna.’

‘Dan and Anna?’ said Patrik with a sheepish look on his face. ‘I didn’t know they were interested in each other.’

‘Men,’ Erica snorted scornfully. ‘How could you avoid noticing? I knew something was going on even before they did!’

‘Is that okay then? I mean, your sister and your ex?’ said Patrik nervously, swaying a little as they went back inside the hotel.

Erica cast a glance over her shoulder at the couple who seemed oblivious of the rest of the world.

‘Okay?’ Erica laughed. ‘It’s more than okay. It’s fantastic.’

Then she dragged her new husband to the dance floor, kicked off her shoes, and rocked away in a barefoot boogie. Much later that night, Garage played ‘Wonderful Tonight’, the ballad that was always their last song, dedicated to the happy couple. Erica pressed close to Patrik, rested her cheek on his shoulder, and closed her eyes.

Patrik’s wedding had been a fun party. Good food, free booze, and Mellberg was sure he had made a good impression on the dance floor. Showed the young bucks a thing or two. Although none of the ladies at the party could hold a candle to Rose-Marie. He had missed her, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask Patrik if it was all right to invite a date on such short notice. But they were seeing each other again this evening.

He’d made a new attempt to spruce up the kitchen and was pleased with his efforts. He’d set the table with the fine china, and the candles were lit. It was with tense anticipation that he had prepared everything for this dinner. The idea that had occurred to him when he stood in the bank and transferred the money for the time-share apartment in Spain still pleased him. Of course it was all a little sudden, but they weren’t spring chickens anymore, he and RoseMarie. Since they’d found love at their age, there was no sense in wasting time.

He had given a lot of thought to how he would do it. When she saw the elegant place settings and the food, he intended to say that he wanted everything to be extra nice because they had to celebrate their purchase of the condo together. That should work. He didn’t think she would suspect anything. Then, after much anguish, he had decided to use the dessert, a chocolate mousse, as the hiding place for his big surprise. The ring. The one he’d bought on Friday and planned to give her as he asked the question he had never before asked any woman. Mellberg could hardly contain himself; he longed to see the expression on her face. He hadn’t stinted. Only the best was good enough for his future wife, and he knew that she would be thrilled when she saw the ring.

He looked at the clock. Five minutes to seven. Five minutes left until she would ring the doorbell. In fact, he ought to have a copy of his key made for her straight away. He couldn’t let his fiancée stand there ringing the bell like a guest.

At five past seven Mellberg was starting to get nervous. Rose-Marie was always punctual. He fidgeted with the place settings, adjusted the serviettes in the glasses, moved the silverware half an inch to the right, then moved it back again.

By seven thirty he was convinced that she must be lying dead in a ditch somewhere. He could see in his mind’s eye her car slamming into a truck, or one of those monster Jeeps that people insisted on driving, which could demolish everything in their path. Maybe he should ring the hospital. He vacillated back and forth, but then realized that perhaps he ought to try ringing her on her mobile first. Mellberg slapped his forehead. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? He punched in the number of her mobile from memory, but frowned when he heard the recorded announcement. ‘This number is no longer in service.’ He touched the number once more; he must have missed a digit. But the same message came up again. Odd. He would have to ring her sister to find out whether she’d been delayed there for some reason. Suddenly he realized that she’d never given him her sister’s number. And he had no idea what her name was. All he knew was that she lived in Munkedal. Or did she?