ELLEN

11.15 A.M.

With every row of hundred-year-old linden trees she passed along the lane, her anxiety grew stronger. She hadn’t been home to Örelo since early summer, right after the Lycke case. She’d lasted two days before the island had completely eaten her up. In the rear-view mirror, she could see a large cloud of dust forming from the gravel road. If the choice had been up to her, she wouldn’t have come back — not for a while yet, anyway.

To distract herself from her growing feeling of discomfort, she opened the web browser on her phone and looked around the Aftonbladet news site, controlling the steering wheel with her other hand.

The headlines were dominated by a derby scuffle the night before, where a man had been killed on Sveavägen in Stockholm. The second story was about the heatwave; the third involved one of the contestants in the spring season of Paradise Hotel, who’d been caught dealing drugs at a club in Växjö.

She had to scroll a long way down to find an item about the murder in Stentuna.

On the TV4 site, there was a brief notice at the end of the morning’s local news broadcast, and a map of Stentuna.

A woman was found dead this morning on the outskirts of Stentuna. The police have started a preliminary investigation of homicide or manslaughter. According to the police, the woman was found outdoors, and the circumstances mean that a crime cannot be ruled out. If anyone has seen anything in connection with this, please call the police on 114 114.

As Ellen crested the hill and caught sight of the castle, she was struck by the stench of pigs. She rolled up the windows, reduced her speed, and drove slowly into the perfectly raked gravel yard, where each pebble had had its defined place since the castle was built in the eighteenth century.

Nausea washed over her as she got out of the car. In that moment it was hard to say whether it was due to the heat, the smell, or being back on the island.

With a deep sigh she took in the grand, beautiful building, with its ugly yellow facade. Draped with ivy all the way up to the bedrooms — to keep thieves away, it was said. Ironically enough, because the horror had already found its way inside.

‘There you are. Finally. I was getting worried, and you don’t answer your phone.’ Her mother, Margareta, emerged from the kitchen entrance, and began, just like always, by saying something negative.

Ellen slammed her car door. ‘Well, I’m here now.’

Margareta was dressed in various shades of grey, with a lighter blouse, and dark, pressed pants. Product held her silvery hair firmly in place. Once a week, she had her hair done, in contrast to Ellen, who now quickly tied up her messy hair in a bun on the top of her head, so as not to give her mother an easy target.

They quickly hugged.

‘Let me look at you.’ Margareta took a step back. ‘How thin you’ve gotten. Haven’t you eaten all summer?’

Without answering, Ellen opened the boot of the car.

‘You look amazing. It really suits you. If you lose a few more kilos, you’ll probably be able to fit the dresses I had when I was your age. Which I bought after I had you twins.’

It was hard not to hear the pride in her voice.

‘I’d always dreamt that one of you would wear them …’

Ellen had not even been home five minutes and her mother had already managed to list every disappointment that had made her want to leave — that she had lost her twin sister, that she was single and far from starting a family of her own, that she was bad at keeping in touch, that she wasn’t good enough … But Ellen knew there was no point in trying to bring this up with her mother, she’d learnt that lesson. Instead, she bit her lip hard.

‘Shall I help you unpack?’ Margareta stood next to Ellen and stared down into the boot. ‘Is this all you have with you? You do know you have to stay here until you’ve gotten better?’

Ellen lifted out her weekend bag. ‘I know,’ she said, closing the hatch. ‘This is all I need.’

‘Okay, if you say so. Go in and freshen up after the trip, and I’ll put out some ice tea down by the boathouse. I’ve made my own, with mint from the garden. And maybe you could change into something a little more suitable?’

‘Why? Does it matter what I wear out here?’ Ellen asked, looking down at her torn denim shorts and the pink bra that was visible through her white, wrinkled blouse.

Suddenly, a black SUV drove into the gravel yard and parked beside Ellen’s car. A man got out and closed the car door with a bang.

‘My God, it smells like pigs here!’

‘Daddy,’ Ellen said, ‘what are you doing here?’ She couldn’t remember when they had last seen each other at Örelo.

‘We all have to talk about this. I won’t be able to handle you alone,’ Margareta said quietly to Ellen, eyeing her ex-husband.

‘Hi,’ he said. The hug he gave Ellen was fleeting, but she still had time to notice how cool he was from the air conditioning, and to pick up the scent of his cologne.

He took off his black sunglasses, and Ellen saw that he was just as handsome as always. When she was little, she’d thought he was the best-looking dad of them all, and that whatever he did he was the best. Everything he touched turned to gold.

Which was probably why it had hurt so much when that image of him had been replaced. When he chose to leave them.

‘Hi, Erik,’ Margareta said, squinting into the sun.

‘Hi,’ he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Ellen wished she hadn’t seen how her mother blushed.

‘You two go on down to the water,’ said Margareta. ‘I’ll get something to drink.’

They did as she said. Ellen walked a step or two behind her father, past the castle and down the little path leading to the boathouse.

‘It’s the same as ever here,’ he said, looking around the garden and out over the lake. ‘I haven’t been here in probably, well, what is it, ten years?’ He almost sounded proud, as if he was talking about a place he had only visited once or twice. Not the place where he’d lived, had children, and then lost one.

When they arrived down at the water, he went out onto the pier and tugged a little on the mooring of the boat. Presumably to see whether he could find something to complain about. She didn’t really understand why she cared, she wasn’t the one who had moored the boat, after all, but somehow, she interpreted everything he said and did as a criticism of her. It was hard to decide whether it was the words or the tone of his voice that she reacted to more. Maybe it was the way he said things, or else perhaps she just picked up on things he said and read different meanings into them. Like with the pig smell. It’s so nice that I’ve moved on. You all smell bad.

Margareta was back right away with a tray. She set out her homemade ice tea next to the outdoor furniture on the terrace by the boathouse. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ she said, her tone slightly accusatory.

Ellen felt tired, and the medication wasn’t helping to dampen any of what was now taking place in front of her.

‘You don’t have a beer?’ Erik asked, sitting down on one of the wooden chairs, at the far end of the table, closest to the boathouse and the sauna.

‘I made ice tea.’

‘That’s lovely, but right now I feel like a beer.’ He looked at Margareta as though she worked there. Ellen was half-waiting for him to snap his fingers to hurry along his order.

‘Well, I’ll see what I can find — maybe someone left a beer behind at some point.’

Ellen watched her mother trudge back to the kitchen to satisfy her ex-husband. She sat down on a chair, away from her father, and took a sip of ice tea, which didn’t taste like mint at all, but parsley. At the same time, she watched her father sitting there — spread-legged, in his sharply tailored suit. He undid the top button on his shirt.

They hadn’t seen each other in over a year. The last time they had talked was probably last Christmas, when they’d wished each other Merry Christmas over the phone.

‘Maybe we should do something like a New Year’s letter where we update each other on what’s happened recently. Like the one you and Mum used to send to all your friends, where you summed up the past year and how good things were in our little family.’

He raised his eyebrows.

‘I’m joking,’ she hurried to say. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Yes, I think so,’ he said, taking off his jacket and hanging it neatly over the arm of the chair. ‘I’ve got a lot of work, but of course that’s a positive. Nyköping is becoming very lucrative for a criminal defence attorney.’

Ellen nodded. She didn’t have that much to tell, herself. What had actually happened? It was as if life carried on for everyone else, but not for her. Maybe she ought to have been grateful that he didn’t ask how she was feeling. She didn’t know if she could bear to talk about it, and he probably didn’t want to hear the truth anyway.

Ellen felt sweaty and dirty, and wished she actually had changed her clothes. ‘Did you hear about the murder in Stentuna?’

‘Ellen, I think you should focus on the right things now, okay?’

He spoke slowly, as if she were a little child who didn’t understand — and as if he knew what was best for her.

‘Okay.’ She bit her lip and then continued. ‘Is the family okay, then?’

‘Absolutely. School has gone back now, so things are very busy, but Carro is doing a top job with them.’

Ellen drank a little more of her ice tea. Carro, yes. ‘Everything fine with her?’

Not one counter-question from him so far, and still she continued to ask him about himself — like a stupid dog wagging its tail even though it had been hit.

‘Yes, she’s opened a little interior-design shop in Nyköping and it’s going gangbusters, which is really cool. She’s been going to these trade shows and she’s found these really nice things in see-through colours — seems it’s the new thing for autumn. She gets the best stuff, you should take a look.’

Ellen nodded, and wondered whether he remembered that she only had black-and-white furniture at home.

‘We were actually in Stockholm last week, looking at a possible space there.’

How nice of you to let me know.

‘And summer, then — has it been good?’ Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut? She didn’t even really want to know. From now on, she would stay quiet.

‘It was good — we were in France and it was warmer than ever there, so we’ve had a great summer. Far from twelve degrees Celsius and rain, like it was here.’

Ellen put on her sunglasses. There was no one who could make her feel as insignificant as her dad did. It must have been torture for him to sit there with his failure of a daughter from his former life. So nice for him that he had been able to start over, had found a new, non-bitter wife who’d opened an interior-design shop with see-through colours, that he’d moved from the estate and cut all ties with his former life.

‘Have you talked to your brother lately?’

Was he joking with her now? ‘No. You?’

‘Yes, he stops by sometimes — and then we run into each other at the office, of course — but it’s busy for everyone. Work, work, work.’ He drummed on the table with his fingers.

‘Yes, here too. All work. I don’t know how I’m going to keep on taking care of the estate,’ Margareta said, finally back with a beer in hand. ‘Confounded wasps!’ She waved them away with her hand. ‘It must be hot for them, too — look how slowly they’re moving,’ she said, handing the beer to Erik.

‘It’s the same here; it looks nice.’ He sipped the beer.

‘I do my best.’

It didn’t matter that Ellen actually sympathised with her mother; for every bitter comment Margareta dropped, it was as if she added a kilo to Ellen’s shoulders.

‘Ellen, will you please take off your sunglasses and stop acting like a teenager?’

Reluctantly, Ellen pulled off her sunglasses and set them on the table.

Erik leant forward. ‘Your mother and I have discussed this. We know you haven’t gone to work, and hardly left the apartment all summer — well, ever since you worked on that story about the girl …’

‘Lycke.’

‘Yes, exactly, whatever her name was. Anyway, you haven’t paid your rent, and presumably no bills either. Soon, you’ll probably have the bailiff after you, too. You have money. I don’t understand why you don’t pay. I can’t let you stay there if you don’t take care of yourself and start acting like an adult.’

Ellen thought about how it had felt when she’d been incapable of getting out of bed. When her body was as heavy as lead, and when anxiety settled like a noose around her neck. When all her energy went into surviving the day, even though she didn’t really want to.

‘You can’t go on like that any more. And the psychiatric emergency clinic — Ellen, that’s serious stuff.’

She tried to picture the image her parents had of the psychiatric ER. Probably as a kind of nuthouse from the fifties, where the patients were strapped down in beds, screaming as they received their shock treatment.

‘We really care about you,’ he continued.

There was a sudden burning sensation behind her eyes.

Erik continued sipping his beer. ‘We want you to stay here with Mum until things get better.’

‘But what will I do here?’ she managed to get out. Didn’t they understand that being at Örelo just made her feel worse?

‘You can ride, and take the boat, or whatever.’ Erik suddenly held his nose. ‘God, I’d truly forgotten how much it smells like pigs here.’

You smell bad.

She wished she hadn’t let his earlier comments get to her so much; it weakened her defences, making her receptive to yet another blow.

‘Maybe you can try singing — you used to be so good at that,’ he continued.

‘It was Elsa who was good at singing.’ To emphasise the point, she put on her sunglasses again. Even though her twin sister had died in a tragic drowning accident when they were eight years old, they were still compared to each other.

‘No, it was you — don’t you remember when we were at the end-of-school performance and you kept on singing, even though everyone else had stopped? You sang a whole verse by yourself with such feeling that you didn’t even notice you were singing a solo. And then, when you realised no one else was singing … that look.’ He started to laugh. ‘I’ll never forget it. You were so sweet.’

She tried to stop herself, but couldn’t help smiling.

‘The most important thing is that you get better,’ he said, serious again.

‘Yes. So I’ve scheduled Dr Hiralgo three times a week to start with.’

‘What?’ Erik looked at Margareta. ‘Why? We don’t need to sign up with some new-age quack. Ellen needs to focus on the future, not wallow in what’s already happened. Isn’t he into hypnosis and digging up old memories and crap? It’s bullshit.’

‘He helped me when you left us,’ Margareta replied.

Please, Mum, don’t bring that up. Please.

‘I think it will be good for Ellen,’ she continued. ‘She has to work through what happened in order to be able to move forward. She’s already gone to several psychologists, and that hasn’t helped. This can’t go on any longer. Time has caught up with us. We can’t keep going the way we have …’

Hello, I’m sitting right here.

They were interrupted by the sound of Erik’s phone ringing.

‘You and I will talk about this later,’ he said, looking at Margareta. ‘When Ellen isn’t present. Excuse me, I have to take this.’

Ellen followed her father with her eyes as he stood up to take the call away from the table. ‘What are you and Dad going to talk about without me?’

‘Nothing.’

‘I’d prefer we discuss this together.’

‘Not everything is about you, Ellen.’

Ellen snorted, but didn’t say anything. They remained sitting in silence, staring out over the still lake.

After a few minutes, Erik came back to the table.

‘I’ve got to go. Clients, you know. But this is going to work out — it’s good that we’re dealing with it now. Call me if you need help with anything. And Ellen, be sure to get better now, otherwise you can’t keep the apartment at Skeppsbron. We have to be able to trust that you take care of yourself in the future.’ He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, thanked Margareta for the beer, and quickly disappeared up to the house.