She was free. At least, for a few hours. She felt strangely proud of cheating her way into time off. And she knew exactly what she would do with it.
It was the kind of day when everything works out. Oswald had been in the office when she came in. For once he didn’t treat her like she wasn’t there. He didn’t even complain that she was five minutes late.
‘We’re having a visitor today, Sofia. Her name is Carmen Gardell and she’s one of the top PR experts in the country. She’s going to help us regain control over all the lies that have been written about us in the media.’
Sofia knew nothing about what had been written because there had been a total ban on newspapers ever since Strid’s article. She hadn’t even sneaked looks at Oswald’s papers, but she could tell from his tone that the media was gobbling up the ViaTerra story right now. And someone named Carmen, with a deep, gravelly voice, had called a few times asking for Oswald. Sofia had even wondered whether Oswald might have a girlfriend.
The day passed quickly. Oswald worked with great energy. He dictated various directives which she typed up and passed along to the staff. They mostly had to do with how to improve things on the property: a broken fence around the farm to fix, a withered flowerbed to replant. And something should be done about the fact that the new guards were running around in farmer clothes. Oswald hummed to himself between recordings. Now and then he looked up at her and smiled. It felt truly pleasant to work with him that day.
Around five, he stood up and turned off his computer.
‘You and I are going to take a little stroll around the property and make sure everything looks good. I want us to take excellent care of Carmen. Bring your notebook.’
A fresh breeze met them in the yard. The sun was shining on the wilting Midsummer pole that was still up on the lawn. It had been erected solely for the benefit of the guests; the staff had no time to celebrate any holidays for the time being. Oswald’s new rules had taken effect and were followed to the letter. It was understood that everyone had to work beyond the normal hours; it was proof of their devotion. A silent understanding had also arisen: as long as Oswald was still working it was wrong for staff to sleep. So it wasn’t unusual to find people staring up at his window until the light went out before they dared go to bed at night.
The working days were long and a whole night of sleep was a luxury. No one would dare to point out that Oswald came to the office late in the mornings while the staff gathered at the crack of dawn. Furthermore, Oswald’s personal staff had been increased to support him while he dealt with all the messes that no one else could handle. He now had a personal chef and someone in the household unit took care of his room, clothes, and other personal things. This was a positive development in Sofia’s view; it lessened her workload.
But now Oswald pointed at the Midsummer pole in annoyance.
‘That must be taken down immediately. Who the hell left it there? Get Bosse so he can take care of it.’
She was just about to say that Bosse actually wasn’t in charge of Midsummer poles — the household unit was — but she had to bite her tongue because just then Bosse came out of one of the annexes and trotted over to them.
Oswald had gotten himself all worked up by now.
‘Find out whose idea it was to leave that disgusting pole in the yard. It must be taken down immediately. It looks horrible. Clearly there’s still no one here who cares.’
Sofia mumbled something and Bosse assured him he would deal with the pole.
‘Let’s go to Carmen’s room,’ Oswald said to Sofia. ‘I talked to Anna yesterday about how it should look.’
Anna was responsible for everything to do with the guests: lodging, service, and food. She was already waiting for them by the annexes. With her hourglass figure and picture-perfect face, Anna was ViaTerra’s own beauty queen. But in Oswald’s presence she transformed into a total bimbo. She was so obvious about it that Sofia was mortified on her behalf. Anna would gaze at Oswald with glassy eyes and speak in a girlish voice trembling with zeal. They just plain clashed, with Anna’s pining and Oswald’s cool arrogance. He always found something to be annoyed about, and it usually ended with a teary-eyed Anna and a furious Oswald.
When Oswald wasn’t around, Anna was happy to share little anecdotes about how Oswald had said this or that to her, as if they were best friends, and it got on the nerves of just about everyone else. Sofia sneaked a sideways glance at Anna and wondered what it felt like to go through life with that unrequited love.
Today’s inspection started off well. The room had been aired out and made up with great care. Someone had placed a piece of chocolate on the pillow and set a bottle of sparkling wine on the nightstand. The bathroom was so clean it sparkled. A thick white bathrobe was hanging next to the tub. Oswald looked around several times and nodded in satisfaction.
But then a tiny wrinkle appeared on his brow.
‘The flowers!’
‘The flowers?’
Sofia looked at the vases, which were filled with white roses.
‘I said peonies.’
Anna looked at Oswald, her face full of shame.
‘Why did you fill the vases with roses?’
‘Sir, we thought roses might be nice.’
Oswald’s jaw was clenched. ‘Are you that stupid? Do you think roses and peonies are the same thing? They don’t even look alike. Don’t we have any peonies on the property?’
‘No, I’m sorry, but I’ll take care of it, sir.’
‘I don’t trust you. Sofia, you’ll have to fix this. I want peonies. I don’t know when the florist closes; it might be too late. In that case you’ll have to pick wildflowers, and I don’t want just anything. Really lovely bouquets. Typical Swedish archipelago flowers. You have one hour until Carmen arrives. I trust you will manage.’
Sofia nodded. The florist closed at five, but it didn’t matter — she knew exactly where to find beautiful wildflowers. She had seen them last year, growing along the stream outside Karin Johansson’s cottage.
She dashed up to her room and changed into sneakers. They looked silly with her blazer and skirt, so ridiculous that she burst out laughing when she saw herself in the mirror.
Even the guard shot her a strange look before he let her out.
Once outside the gate, she stood still for a moment, inhaling the fresh air and feeling free and alive. Like a calf that has just been let out into a green pasture. She took the quickest route to the cottage, jogging the whole way. It was early July, and a weekend besides. There was a good chance Karin would be there.
*
She was sweaty and out of breath, and her hair had become tangled in the breeze. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Karin in the hammock. Her hair was done in two thick braids and her pale blue dress set off her tan. Karin noticed Sofia right away; she glanced down at her sneakers and up at her uniform and the corners of her lips twitched.
‘Hi! Is something up?’
‘Quite a bit, but I don’t have time to explain. It might sound odd, but I have to pick wildflowers down by the stream and then I can chat. Do you have time?’
‘All the time in the world.’ Karin looked at Sofia again and laughed. ‘You might want to spruce yourself up a bit too, before you go back home. Do you need help with that cult over there?’
‘No, it’s not that. But I read the family tree and looked at the pictures and I have a few questions.’
‘Then I’ll get some vases for your flowers and make coffee while you’re picking them.’
Sure enough, the grass around the stream was full of flowers. A breeze had come up, and heavy grey clouds were moving in from the west. The wind whistled through the treetops until the branches creaked. But down on the ground, the air was almost still. She wanted to stay longer and take a walk on the island again. To sit at the lookout point and gaze out at the sea. The days and weeks of free time had seemed self-evident before ViaTerra, but these days, free time was a privilege reserved only for the productive. And right now, the only person in that category was Oswald himself.
When she returned to the cottage, Karin had poured water into a few vases and lined them up along the wall. Freshly brewed coffee was waiting on a rickety little table in front of the hammock. The small yard was well protected from the wind, so it was warm, although clouds hid the sun from time to time.
‘So, the lines on the family tree,’ Sofia began. ‘I was wondering what they mean. The red and green ones?’
Karin grinned.
‘The green ones are for work and money, and the red ones are for love, of course.’
Sofia considered this for a moment, recalling the top of the tree.
‘Okay, so there was love between you and the last Count?’
‘No, not exactly, but there was a child.’
‘Fredrik was his son?’
‘Yes, but out of wedlock. Fredrik was never recognized, or anything. But he was certainly Henrik’s son.’
‘Did Fredrik know?’
‘Oh yes, he knew. We lived at the manor until he was three; we moved out for reasons I don’t want to get into. Later, when Fredrik realized he was Henrik’s, he wanted Henrik to recognize him. But I wasn’t interested. It only would have been about the money anyway, and we were fine without that.’
Sofia didn’t say anything for a moment. She didn’t want to stir up Karin’s emotions.
‘I looked at all the photographs and read the old newspaper clippings. It didn’t say anything about the first Countess’s suicide, or that the count set fire to the manor.’
‘No, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. There was a book; it was sort of a family history. The Count’s daughter, Sigrid von Bärensten, wrote it. She was the little baby in the Countess’s arms, you might have seen her in the first picture. She put it all down in that book.’
‘Do you have it?’
‘No, I wish I did, but it disappeared. Fredrik spent a lot of time with the daughter of the doctor who moved in later on. One day they found the book in the attic and it was like Fredrik transformed completely. He’d always been so angry at Henrik for leaving the island, but he read something in that book that made him furious. It was right before he jumped from Devil’s Rock. Since then, the book has been missing. No one has found it.’
‘Is the doctor’s daughter dead too?’
She had a vague memory of Björk, the ferryman, mentioning something about her.
Karin nodded.
‘How did she die?’
‘There was a fire in one of the barns at the manor. But I don’t feel like getting into details.’
‘That’s okay. You’ve already told me so much. I want to write a book about all this — the family’s history.’
‘I’m sure you could. But how will you manage, if you’re stuck in that cult up there?’
‘For one thing, it’s not a cult. And my contract is up in a year.’
‘Well, imagine that! I’ll help you, then.’
‘Great! I want to find that book. Do you think it could be at the manor?’
‘There’s just one thing I don’t understand. That Count must have been filthy rich, right? Why did he build the manor way out here, far away from anything?’
‘That’s the kind of thing you’d only do if you’re up to something shady, right?’
‘But what was he up to?’
‘It’s in the book. I hope you can find it.’
‘Won’t you please tell me?’
‘Maybe later, once we’ve gotten to know each other better.’
Sofia let it go; she realized there was no point in nagging Karin.
‘But what happened to the ones who moved to France? Henrik von Bärensten and his family?’
Karin looked surprised. ‘You don’t know?’
Sofia shook her head.
‘Then you haven’t understood just how ill-fated the von Bärenstens were. Henrik and his wife died in a fire. This was several years ago. They lived in southern France, on the Riviera somewhere. The whole family was killed.’
‘That’s horrible! Is it really true?’
‘Yes. It was actually Björk who told me about it. It was in the local gossip sheet, which I don’t read anymore.’
‘So there’s no one left out of that whole family?’
‘Not a soul. The woman who wrote the family history lived to be an old woman, but Henrik was her only child and she died in a nursing home a few years ago. When Fredrik died, that was the end of the family line.’
‘And here I thought maybe there was a happy ending to my book.’
‘I suppose there is, in one way. Not that I like your cult, but at least you’ve taken care of the place. The gate was open when I drove by last spring, and I couldn’t help taking a peek inside. It’s like the manor has gotten a new lease of life, isn’t it?’
Sofia thought about it for a moment: the barbed wire on the wall and the gloomy mood of recent days. She hoped this wasn’t the curse afflicting them too.
She glanced at her watch and realized she would be missed very soon, so she thanked Karin and promised to visit again as soon as she could. She dashed off with the flowers in her arms.
*
It had started to drizzle, and by the time she got to the gate her uniform was damp. The flowers had left flecks on her skirt, and out of the corner of her eye she could see her hair sticking out in all directions.
Bosse met her at the gate. He appeared to be calm, but she felt his seething rage right away.
‘Where have you been?’
‘First I went to the florist and then I was in the meadows picking flowers, see?’
She triumphantly held up her bouquet.
‘Don’t lie!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, don’t lie. I was trying to reach you. Carmen Gardell is already here. But the florist said you were never there. They don’t close at five anymore; they’re open until six in the summer.’
Her heart jumped into her throat. Her hand searched her jacket pocket, but it was empty and she realized she had left her pager in the office. At first she thought she was screwed; she pictured herself in a red cap, weeding the flowerbeds.
‘Did you say anything to Franz?’
‘No, not yet, but I’m off to see him right now.’
‘Please, don’t say anything. I just thought wildflowers would be nicer than peonies. I had to search all over the island for them. And look what I found!’
Bosse grunted.
‘Fine then. They do look very nice. But next time —’
‘There won’t be a next time.’
She marched straight to Gardell’s room and knocked softly at the door. No one answered; the room was empty. Someone, probably Anna, had already removed the roses from the vases.
She made the prettiest arrangements she could.
When she came back into the yard, Oswald was walking toward the annexe with a woman by his side. Sofia was hoping to sneak to her room unseen and deal with her frightful appearance, but Oswald was heading straight for her.
‘Sofia, come say hello!’
Carmen Gardell’s high heels made her almost as tall as Oswald. Her face was so heavily powdered it looked like a mask. Her big eyes made her look constantly surprised, and her eyelashes were so long they reached her eyebrows. Her lips were full and pouty, like a duck’s bill. Her hair was curled and feathered and arranged in a chaos that somehow still seemed perfectly designed. The suit she was wearing clung to her narrow waist and her large bust.
To Sofia she seemed to reek of perfume, even out in the fresh air.
‘Carmen, this is my secretary, Sofia.’
Sofia quickly shook hands and tried to hide her dirty skirt with her other hand.
‘Pardon me. I was taking care of something out in the grounds. I don’t usually look like this; I’ll go change.’
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter,’ Gardell said in a deep, hoarse voice that Sofia recognized immediately. She was clearly amused by the sight of Sofia.
‘Of course you can go change,’ Oswald said. ‘I just wanted you to meet Carmen. She’s going to get us some good press, you see. Take some nice pictures. You’ll get to help.’
‘Sure, that sounds fun.’
‘I’m going to have dinner with Carmen now, but perhaps you can make sure all the staff come to the morning assembly so I can tell you all a little about her project and what will be expected.’
‘I’ll do that.’ She wasn’t sure if she should add a ‘sir,’ but decided against it. She wasn’t sure it would sound right in front of Gardell.
Sofia hurried across the yard to her room, where she showered and changed her clothes. She knew Oswald would be with Carmen for the rest of the evening, which meant free time she could use to explore the attic and maybe even find the family history.
After she’d straightened up in the office and sorted the mail, she took the stairs up to the attic. First she glanced at the staff office, which seemed empty. The stairs wound up around a wide pillar and ended at an old wooden door. She pushed the handle down, but the door wouldn’t open.
Then she noticed the hardware alongside it. Two big, brand new brass padlocks.
Now let’s get back to the closet on the ferry.
It’s pitch black inside, aside from a tiny streak of light at the bottom of the door.
It smells damp, like seaweed and Ajax. The first minutes are the longest — they’re nearly unbearable.
Then I am outside my body for a while, and when I return it’s all warm in the closet and time no longer exists.
I am weightless.
Then come the familiar sounds. Cars parking, passengers boarding, the chatter and the laughter — it all reaches me as I sit on my bucket in the dark.
The ferry is far from full; it’s the low season. These are the usual commuters and villagers heading for the mainland to shop. And here I sit, surrounded by darkness and sour smells, feeling perfectly clear in the head.
Like a polished diamond, a crystal chandelier in evening light. I feel no fear, no anxiety; I’m not even the least bit tense.
The darkness has become my companion.
I follow the journey by the sounds, which help me see. The ferry’s engine’s steady rumbling in the bay, its hacks and coughs as we reach land.
The cars starting up, driving off the ferry. The dragging feet of the passengers; their dull voices.
I can even hear the murmurs of the harbour before we arrive. And when the last few steps have echoed from the gangway I open the door.
I sneak off the boat like a shadow and bend my head so no one sees — yes, I almost pray, before I vanish into the crowd of people on the quay. I move faster, jogging, cheering to myself.
I have been eradicated and have risen again, all in the same day.