Jan-Olof stops breathing again during the journey, but Thea and the paramedic manage to revive him.
The emergency team takes over when they reach the hospital in Helsingborg. Thea watches from the sidelines until his condition is stabilised, then she goes into the toilets and splashes her face with cold water. Her dress is spattered with Jan-Olof’s blood. She finds an empty waiting room and tries to call David, but he doesn’t answer.
Only now does she have the chance to think back over what happened. Was Jan-Olof’s fall an accident? Impossible to say. He was very drunk, and could easily have lost his balance, but for a moment it looked as if he’d heard someone or something in the room behind him.
She tries to remember what he was rambling about up in the bridal suite. He seemed to think she was in cahoots with Leo, working for him. Where had that come from? After a while she realises that Jan-Olof must have misunderstood her at his mother’s house the other day.
Whatever the reason, it’s clear that the thought of Leo tormented him. Frightened him. What did he mean by the last words he managed to get out?
Not him. It was me.
He’d been pointing at David.
Not him. It was me.
Who did what?
She tries David again; still no answer. She finds Kerstin Miller’s home number; the teacher answers right away.
‘Thank you so much for calling – how’s Jan-Olof?’
‘He’s in intensive care. One lung was punctured, but fortunately the head injury looked worse than it was. He has a broken leg and a number of other fractures, but if there are no further complications, he should make a full recovery.’
‘Thank God you were there, Thea.’ Kerstin’s voice is both sad and warm at the same time.
‘One more thing – could you let Jan-Olof’s mother know what’s happened? Maybe someone could go and see her tomorrow morning – I think she’s pretty dependent on him.’
‘No problem. And just give me a call if there’s anything else I can do.’
‘I will. Bye now.’
Thea closes her eyes and rests her head on the wall.
She is back in the stone circle. Hubert is holding the camera, she is standing beside him watching as Elita and the children pose. Hubert takes one photograph after another. He shakes them to make the colours and images appear more quickly. Elita runs to him, looks over his shoulder. Laughs and points.
Then everything changes.
It is night-time. Hubert and the children are gone. Elita stands alone by the sacrificial stone, the silk ribbons trailing from her wrists. She is waiting for someone. The person who is going to take her away.
The dream slowly dissolves, the colours fade away, then the contours, like a Polaroid in reverse, until all that remains is a little boy hiding among the trees.
Not him. It was me.
And suddenly she understands what Jan-Olof meant. What David and the others are hiding.
‘Hello?’
Thea opens her eyes. How long has she been asleep? Half an hour, maybe.
A nurse is standing in front of her.
‘Jan-Olof has regained consciousness – you can come and see him if you like.’
*
He is lying in a bed with tubes and wires all over the place. His head is bandaged, eyes closed. A ventilator is helping him to breathe.
‘He squeezed my hand a little while ago,’ the nurse tells her. ‘So he can hear what you’re saying.’
Thea goes up to the bed.
‘Hi, Jan-Olof, it’s Thea.’ She takes his hand, hesitates briefly. It would probably be better to wait, but if she’s right, this secret has haunted him for over thirty years, slowly eating him up from the inside, and it will continue to do so until the truth comes out.
‘There’s something I want to ask you. About the night Elita died.’
She bends down and whispers in his ear. Receives a faint but unmistakable squeeze of her hand in response.