THERE WERE BIG problems when Irene flew back to Landvetter. The steward explained over the intercom that snowfall had created chaos in Göteborg. The snow itself had eased, but there were still strong winds. The passengers had to wear their seatbelts for the last hour due to severe turbulence.
When Irene emerged from the plane, the temperature was several degrees below freezing, and the wind nearly blew her over. She almost slipped and fell several times, but she was glad to have solid ground underfoot. The ice from Friday’s cold snap was still there, lurking treacherously under the fresh covering of snow.
Irene was lucky, and managed to get a cab right away. All she wanted as she sank into the back seat was to get home.
THE HOUSE WAS in darkness. The rest of the family wouldn’t be back until the following day. Her footsteps echoed desolately as she walked up the stairs in the silent house. She quickly unpacked her rucksack and threw the clothes she had worn on the trip into the laundry basket. She ran herself a bath and added a generous handful of rose-scented salts. With a sigh of pleasure she lowered herself into the bubbles and relaxed in the hot water. She reminded herself that she must keep the dressing on her left shoulder dry. The doctor at the Hospital del Sur had told her very firmly that she wasn’t to touch it for five days.
She must have fallen asleep, because she suddenly became aware of the distant sound of a telephone ringing. Just as she was about to leap up and answer it, she heard the answering machine kick in. She was disappointed to hear that the caller didn’t leave a message.
The water had cooled, so she got out of the bath and briskly toweled herself dry to get her circulation going. She rubbed some of the expensive cream she had bought at the airport into her face, then she wrapped herself in the soft robe Krister had given her for Christmas a few years ago and slid her feet into her sheepskin slippers.
Feeling somewhat better in both body and soul, she went down to the kitchen to fix herself something to eat. It was almost ten o’clock, and she was ravenous. Dinner on the plane had been served in something that looked like a medium-sized matchbox, with a tiny plastic knife and fork. There were already signs of turbulence at that stage, and Irene had managed only the small dry bread roll, washed down with mineral water.
The refrigerator was depressingly empty. There weren’t even any leftovers she could heat up in the microwave. She was going to have to cook something. After briefly considering what little there was, she decided on a mushroom omelet. She added crisp bread topped with Kalles caviar; a couple of forgotten clementines in the vegetable rack would have to serve as both dessert and a source of vitamin C.
Irene tried to ring Krister and the girls once again. The only place in the cottage with any network coverage was upstairs by the window at the eastern gable end. With a sigh she concluded that none of them happened to be standing in that particular spot. She would just have to wait until they tried to call her.
She felt a pang of sadness as she thought about her family and what she was missing. They usually ate very well when they were up at the cottage, which was why the refrigerator in Göteborg had been ransacked. They had taken everything that could be used; the only other option was to drive twenty kilometers to Sunne to buy whatever they didn’t have with them.
While she was eating, she glanced through the mail and the weekend papers. A short item in Sunday’s paper caught her eye: the police had picked up two young men for questioning. Both were eighteen years old and had escaped from Gräskärr juvenile detention center in January. They had been found at an address registered to the grandmother of one of the fugitives, just outside Gråbo. There wasn’t much more information, but Irene immediately suspected that this was about Niklas Ström and Björn “Billy” Kjellgren. They both had a lot of explaining to do: how they had managed to steal Torleif Sandberg’s car, for example.
Her eyes were beginning to feel heavy with tiredness. Before she went up to bed, the image of which was hovering temptingly on the edge of her consciousness, she made another vain attempt to reach Krister on his cell. She cursed their parsimony in refusing to have a land line in the cottage. Then she remembered to check the answering machine; they might have called and left her a welcome home message. She pressed the display, and when she saw the number that came up, she was suddenly wide-awake. Twenty-two messages since Friday! She had a really bad feeling as she pressed PLAY. The first four messages were for the twins. The rest were from Sahlgrenska Hospital.
With fumbling fingers Irene keyed in the number. A cheerful female voice answered, giving a ward number and her name, Sister Anna. Irene introduced herself and explained that she had been away all weekend.
“That’s what I thought. We’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday afternoon,” the nurse explained in a pleasant tone of voice.
“What’s this about?” Irene asked, dreading the answer.
“Your mother slipped and fell on the sidewalk outside her apartment yesterday. It was extremely treacherous! Unfortunately Gerd hit her head and was a little disorientated when she came in here. It took a while before we could get the name and phone number of her next of kin, and she didn’t remember your cell number until today. We tried to call you, but your phone was switched off.”
That must have been during the flight back from Tenerife.
“So she’s got a head injury. Is it serious?”
“No, no. It was just a mild concussion. The real problem is her hip.”
“Her hip?” Irene echoed in horror.
“Yes. She’s broken the femur and damaged the joint itself. She needs surgery as soon as possible; she’s booked for this Tuesday.”
“Will she … will she get through it?”
“The doctors don’t foresee any problem. Her vitals are good, and her heart and blood pressure are fine. Mentally she’s stable and fully alert.”
“What about after the operation? Will she be able to walk properly?”
“Absolutely. She might even be better than she was before. She’s had problems with that hip for quite some time. She told us how long she’s been on the waiting list for surgery. But there is a lengthy rehabilitation phase after an operation like this.”
“Will she be able to go up and down stairs?”
“No. Not at first, anyway.”
Irene remained silent for a moment, then said, “She lives on the second floor of an apartment block with no elevator.”
“Oh dear.”
Yes indeed. Oh dear. Irene decided to deal with one problem at a time. They would have to try to sort out the practical details eventually, but not right now.
“Can I come up and see her tonight?” she asked.
“No, it’s too late. She’s already asleep. She’s on quite a heavy dose of analgesics. She’s relatively pain free, but of course she gets extremely tired.”
“When can I visit?”
“Tomorrow, once the doctors have done their rounds. After ten o’clock.”
When Irene had thanked the friendly nurse and ended the call, she was overwhelmed by a feeling of weakness. Not this as well! I can’t cope! she thought. Which didn’t really help.
The phone rang again, and she quickly grabbed the receiver and answered.
“Hi, honey! I hope you’re missing me as much as I’m missing you,” Krister’s soft voice said, and he really sounded like he meant it.
“Yes … I … yes,” was all Irene could manage.
To her horror she burst into tears. Soon she was weeping helplessly. Everything that had happened during the weekend had caught up with her, and she couldn’t stop. Krister tried to console her, but she had to put the phone down. She sobbed her way into the kitchen and tore off a length of paper towel. She wiped her face and blew her nose.
Feeling a little calmer, she went back to the phone. It was the longest telephone conversation they had ever had in the twenty-two years they had been together. Irene talked nonstop, getting the events of the last two days off her chest. When she eventually paused to catch her breath, Krister quietly asked if it was all really true, and not some American gangster movie that had been shown on the plane. He meant it as a joke, but she almost started crying again.
Afterward she felt completely exhausted, but at the same time she was considerably calmer. She fell into bed just before midnight.
She didn’t wake up until the alarm went off; she discovered she had spent the night in her robe. Presumably she had felt the need to be wrapped in something that reminded her of a safe embrace.