‘You’d have liked Kerstin Miller, I’m sure of it. She’s the kind of person who has a glow about her. A good soul.
‘I can hear you snorting, saying that surely I’ve experienced enough misery to realise that anyone is capable of doing bad things. That genuine goodness doesn’t exist. I’d like to believe that you’re wrong.’
The kitchen in the hunting lodge is warm and cosy. There are bunches of dried herbs hanging on the walls, a wood-burning stove crackles in one corner, and a big fluffy cat is stretched out on the stone floor in front of the fire.
Kerstin Miller has a subtle sense of humour that immediately appeals to Thea. She offers rhubarb tea, chatting away as if they already know each other.
‘You really didn’t need to drive all the way out here for my sake. I’m already better. I’m intending to be back at school in a couple of days; the supply teacher is having a few problems.’
‘You need to stay home for the rest of the week,’ Dr Andersson insists.
‘It’s nothing, just a bit of a temperature. Alvedon will sort it out. We’ve got so much to do before the summer. I don’t want the children to suffer because I’ve got a cold.’ Kerstin turns to Thea. ‘So tell me – how are you settling in at the coach house? Are you coping with the lingo? You can always ask me if there’s something you don’t understand – we northerners must stick together!’
Kerstin comes from somewhere in the north, and speaks a charming mixture of ‘standard’ Swedish and the Skåne dialect.
‘I’ve picked up a few words,’ Thea assures her.
‘There you go – you’ll be speaking fluent Skåne in no time.’ Kerstin’s smile is inviting. ‘Will you get everything done in time for Walpurgis Night?’
‘Absolutely. David’s working flat out, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. There will be a lot of people at the dinner.’
‘Yes – both Jeanette and Sebastian have been in touch and said they’re coming. I think it’s wonderful that they’re going into business with David after all these years. They were such good friends when they were children. Hard-working. Conscientious. Let me show you something.’
Kerstin gets up and goes into the room next door. Thea hears the sound of drawers opening.
‘Here they are in their first year.’
Kerstin places a scrapbook on the table and turns to a faded colour photograph. Tornaby School 1981, Year 1 is written neatly beside it.
There are only fifteen children in the class. Some of them are shyly looking down or away, others are more interested in the camera or the photographer. Kerstin is at the far side. She’s about twenty-five years old with long, dark blonde hair. Her face is young, full of energy.
‘There he is.’
David is in the back row; he’s easily recognisable. His mother Ingrid probably knitted the sweater he’s wearing.
‘And there’s Jeanette.’
Kerstin points to a girl with an Asian appearance in the front row. She’s wearing dungarees and a blue hair band, and she’s beaming at the camera. Thea can see the gap between her slightly too large front teeth.
Jeanette’s ethnicity comes as a surprise. Thea has never met her, and somehow she’s always imagined her with blonde hair and freckles, as if all children who grew up in the country automatically looked like Pippi Longstocking. Ridiculous, of course.
‘Jeanette was usually top of the class, except in Maths.’ Kerstin moves her finger to a third child, a shy-looking boy with cropped hair and glasses that are much too big for his face. ‘Sebastian was the mathematician. His parents moved here from Poland when he was a baby. He was a wonderful boy, quiet but kind. And as I said, very gifted when it came to Maths.’
‘And David?’
‘He was good too, especially when it came to his verbal skills. He knew how to capture an audience.’
Kerstin turns the pages, stops at a newspaper cutting from Helsingborgs Dagblad.
‘Look at this.’
David, Nettan and Sebastian again, a few years older now. Nettan has grown into her front teeth, Sebastian into his glasses. David is displaying an early version of that charming smile.
TORNABY TRIO’S SUCCESS IN RADIO QUIZ
Thea skims the text. David is quoted the most; he says he wants to be a fighter pilot and fly a Saab 37 Viggen when he grows up. Nettan wants to be an actress or a company director, or a musician because she plays the piano. Sebastian has the least to say. He wants to be an engineer like his father, or maybe a chess player.
‘They went all the way to the semi-final – lost by one point to the team that won the whole thing.’ Kerstin’s voice is filled with pride. ‘I know teachers shouldn’t have favourites, every class and every pupil is special in their own way – but there’s something about your first class. I can still remember all their names, and their parents were so supportive. I’d only just qualified, and I’d never set foot in Skåne, but the village welcomed me with open arms and made me feel at home right away.’
‘So how come you ended up in Tornaby of all places?’ Thea asks.
‘Oh, the usual reason when someone moves halfway across the country – love. It didn’t work out, but I fell in love with the area instead. I rented the lodge, got myself a horse, and that was that.’
‘And you’re not afraid of the dark?’ Dr Andersson interjects, as if she’s feeling left out of the conversation. ‘I’d be too scared to live out here in the marsh on my own, with no neighbours for several kilometres.’
Kerstin shakes her head. ‘After a tiring day in school I appreciate the peace and quiet. And of course I have the horses and Vanderbilt here to keep me company.’ She points to the cat, who has moved from the floor to the sofa. ‘I love this house, and the forest, and I intend to stay here as long as I have my health, and the foundation allows.’
She pauses, catches a sneeze in a handkerchief that she produces from her sleeve. Then she turns her attention to the scrapbook once more. Another newspaper article, a much later date.
BELOVED TORNABY TEACHER CELEBRATES TWENTY-FIFTH ANNIVERSARY
‘That was 2006. The house was full of flowers, and Jeanette came all the way from Switzerland to see me!’
She shows Thea a large colour photograph with smiling people arranged in two rows. There is a banner above them:
CONGRATULATIONS, MISS MILLER! WE LOVE YOU!
It takes a few seconds for Thea to realise that this is the same group who were in the first picture, in the same room and standing in exactly the same places twenty-five years later. The rounded, childish faces have acquired beards and double chins, the serviceable school clothes have been replaced by smart shirts, jackets and pretty dresses.
David is handsome now, his teeth are sparkling white and his gaze is full of confidence. Nettan has shaken off her provincial roots and is wearing a trouser suit. Her hair and make-up are perfect – she is a businesswoman to her fingertips.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ Kerstin sounds even prouder, if that were possible. ‘They did it for me – as a surprise!’
The new version of Sebastian has swapped his glasses for contact lenses, and his hair is clearly thinning, even though he can’t be much more than thirty in the photograph.
‘Sebastian did his doctorate in Lund, then started a business with some friends. Microprocessors – very technical. The company was bought up by Sony, and he made a fortune. He bought a big house in Poland for his parents when they retired.’
‘How lovely.’ Thea can’t think of anything else to say.
She thinks she recognises someone else – a square-built man with a fleshy face. He’s wearing an ill-fitting blazer, and he looks extremely uncomfortable.
‘Isn’t he the guy who was up the ladder outside?’
‘Jan-Olof? Yes, that’s right. He was the fourth member of their little gang. A quartet, you could call them.’
The final sentence hangs awkwardly in the air, and suddenly Thea thinks back to the Polaroid photo. Four children in the spring of 1986.
‘Could I just check something?’ She points to the scrapbook.
‘Of course.’
Thea leafs through the pages until she finds what she’s looking for.
TORNABY SCHOOL 1986, YEAR 6
She runs her finger over the faces, spots David and his three friends. Dr Andersson clears her throat and looks meaningfully at her watch.
‘Time we made a move, Thea.’
Thea ignores her. She takes the Polaroid out of her pocket, smoothes it down and places it next to the scrapbook. One of the masked children is wearing a striped jumper that is a lot like the one Sebastian has on in the school photo. It can’t be a coincidence.
‘Where did you get that from?’ Dr Andersson asks sharply. Both she and Kerstin have moved to stand behind Thea.
‘I found it in an old tin in the forest yesterday. Could this be David and his friends? Nettan, Jan-Olof and Sebastian?’
Kerstin and the doctor exchange a long look, which answers the question as far as Thea is concerned. ‘What’s this about?’
‘Hasn’t David told you anything?’ Kerstin asks quietly.
‘About what?’
Another look, followed by an almost imperceptible shake of the head from the doctor, who is no longer so talkative.
Kerstin takes a deep breath. ‘About poor Elita Svart. The spring sacrifice.’