“Couldn’t we arrange things differently?” she said. “I mean, if it’s such a big place, then surely we could—”
She broke off as Robert shook his head. He cupped her face gently in his hands, and she heard a faint tremor in his voice as he said, “No. We can’t change things. It has to be this way.”
Robert’s final pronouncement was so definite and so serious that it remained hanging in the air between them and they fell silent; they lay there on the sofa, distractedly caressing each other’s skin. Annika gazed at her husband, whose expression had altered; he almost looked as if he might be on the verge of tears. She didn’t understand it. She really didn’t. “I was just wondering,” she said, “does this have anything to do with what your father wanted to talk about? At our wedding?”
Robert looked away. “Yes,” he said, “you could say that. Yes.”
A couple of days later, they started packing. Robert’s books alone filled fifty boxes. A removal firm came and collected household appliances and furniture. Some was going into storage, some was going to Djursholm. Annika and Robert followed the removal van to oversee the unloading, and they began by taking a closer look at the corner of the world that now belonged to them.
Annika may have had reservations about Erik, but no one could deny that he was a conscientious worker. It was the middle of July, and the garden was the very definition of “glorious.” Wherever they turned there was something new and beautiful to bring joy.
Flowering shrubs had been planted singly and in entrancing combinations, and fruit trees were placed apparently at random, yet in harmony with the garden as a whole. Clusters of showy annuals and perennials shared the space with meadow flowers in well-thought-out proportions, and climbers created lines that led the eye between the different areas of the garden. Not one fallen leaf could be seen on the ground.
“Do you like it?” Robert asked.
“I love it. Don’t you?”
“I suppose so.”
Presumably Robert was so used to the garden that he had stopped noticing it. Perhaps it was also linked to some painful memory, because he looked very gloomy.
“And what about the horses?” Annika asked.
“The horses,” Robert said, with a vague wave of his hand. “The horses are over there.”
They set off along a gravel path leading through a tunnel of rhododendron bushes. On the other side lay the lake, and Annika was just able to catch glimpses of the slow movements of large fish beneath the surface. The barn was beyond the lake, with the paddock extending down as far as the water’s edge. A familiar smell of hay, manure and animals drifted across to Annika, and she said, “Did I tell you I can ride?”
Robert sighed and shook his head. “No, you never mentioned that.”
“I used to go riding fairly regularly between the ages of ten and thirteen, but then we couldn’t afford it anymore.”
Whenever the difference in their financial circumstances during their childhood and teenage years arose, it led to an uncomfortable silence between them. It was as if Robert didn’t know how or what to ask. Annika had chosen to regard this as a charming ineptitude, but this time it annoyed her. His melancholy mood was casting a shadow over what should have been a sunny day, so she added blithely, “Mom was on benefits for a while after Dad left us.”
“Right, yes,” Robert said, opening the door.
The barn Annika walked into had very little in common with the scruffy metal structure in Råsunda where she had learned to ride. This place was more like a church. Huge windows had been inserted in the high ceiling, which was supported by a high wooden cruck frame. There was a small indoor school, and a hayloft. Both planking and beams were beautifully aged, with no trace of mold or rot. Bridles and reins shone as if they had just been oiled.
Annika looked around and shook her head. “Does one person look after all this and the garden?”
“Yes,” Robert replied. “Why do you ask?”
“How on earth does he manage it?”
Robert gazed around the barn, raising his eyebrows as if the thought had never occurred to him. “I suppose he works hard.”
Annika walked across the sawdust toward the horses’ loose boxes, inhaling deeply through her nose. It was so long since she had been inside a stable, and she had forgotten how much she loved it.
She was halfway across the school when the door of one of the loose boxes opened and Erik emerged. He had a body brush in one hand, and he was dressed in jeans and a red checked shirt. Annika’s footsteps, which had been confident and expectant, suddenly became a complex combination of poorly coordinated muscle movements and she stumbled over a nonexistent obstacle.
In the hope of avoiding further embarrassment, she stopped and pretended to admire the architecture, pushing her hands deep into the pockets of her pants. Erik came toward her, and if he had looked handsome in his suit, he was now incredibly attractive. His jeans hugged his muscular legs, and his chest was broad beneath the fabric of his shirt. Annika blinked and swallowed. Something jelly-like was trying to take over her body.
Enough! She clenched her fists in her pockets as Erik came closer. Enough!
What the hell was she thinking? A bit of a tumble in the hay with the stable lad while the master was away on business? Callused hands caressing silky soft skin, and Would madam care for a ride today? Had she turned into a character in some cheap, trashy novel?
Enough.
She took her hands out of her pockets and walked toward Erik, holding out her hand. He slipped off the grooming brush and shook hands. Touching him was nothing special. Nothing at all. One of the horses whinnied as Erik said something.
“Sorry?” Annika said, leaning closer.
“I said welcome home.”
“Thanks,” she said, letting go of his hand and taking a step back. Two things bothered her, and she hid the fact by looking over at Robert, who was ambling across the sawdust-covered ground.
First of all: Welcome home. Wasn’t that rather a strange thing to say? Secondly: if she had been harboring any fantasies concerning Erik, the smell of his breath had certainly put a stop to them. It was disgusting: a combination of rotting flesh and excrement that had almost made her retch when she leaned closer to him.
The visit to the stables was a short one. Annika declined the offer to take a closer look at the horses. She needed to get outside into the fresh air, and she made the excuse that they still had a great deal of unpacking to do.
As she and Robert were walking away from the stables, she said, “I don’t know if it’s just me, but … his breath.”
Robert sniggered, and at last something about his demeanor seemed to lift. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t know how the horses stand it.”
They laughed together, and it felt good. Annika tucked her arm beneath Robert’s, and at long last they strolled as man and wife through the paradise that had been given to them. As they approached the house, Robert stopped and turned to Annika.
“I was just wondering,” he said. “Are you thinking of going riding?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
Robert interlaced his fingers and began to twiddle his thumbs, which he had a tendency to do when he was nervous or ill at ease.
“I’d rather you didn’t visit the stables,” he said. “And I’d prefer it if you didn’t spend time with Erik, to be perfectly honest.”
“Why? Are you jealous? He is very good-looking …”
“No,” Robert said. “I don’t think that’s something you would be … capable of. But can we agree that you’ll stay away?”
Annika shrugged. “I do love riding, so I might well go over to the stables. With a clothes peg on my nose.”
Robert didn’t even smile at her little joke. Instead he shook his head sadly and said, “It’s your life. I’ve said what I wanted to say.”
He walked toward the house without taking her hand.
II
It was three months before Annika went back to
the stables. There was a great deal to do in the house in order to awaken it from twelve years of slumber since the death of Robert’s mother. The furniture was shabby and worn, the rugs frayed, the wallpaper impregnated with cigar smoke.
One of Annika’s first tasks was to find a new cleaner. The old one hadn’t done her job properly, and the neglect contributed significantly to the general air of decay. Every single surface that was not in daily use was sticky, and drifts of dust covered shelves and cupboards. The kitchen was a haven for bacteria, and the toilets were so ingrained with filth that the only solution was to rip them out and install new ones.
Annika felt it necessary to resign from her job so that she could devote herself entirely to the house. It didn’t matter: working on the perfume counter had always made her feel slightly brain-dead, while refurbishing the house stimulated her creativity and brought concrete results from one day to the next.
It was a happy period. Robert didn’t spend too much time at the office, allowing them plenty of opportunities to work and play together. By this stage they had had sex in each of the fourteen rooms in the house apart from one: Erik’s room.
Annika’s unease at the thought of having someone around all the time had proved unfounded. Erik was very rarely in his room, and when he wasn’t there, it was locked. He spent most of his time in the stables or the garden, and Annika had discovered why the grounds were so beautiful, in stark contrast to the state of the house: Erik worked at night as well. On several occasions she had seen him wandering around among the trees and shrubs, guided only by the light of the moon and stars. He would be digging here, tidying there, pulling up weeds or spreading manure on a flowerbed. It was hard to work out when the man actually slept.
In addition to his work in the stables and the grounds, Erik also had a daily meeting with Robert. The two men would closet themselves in Erik’s room for a good hour every day, and in spite of the fact that Robert’s antipathy toward Erik seemed to have increased rather than diminished, nothing could persuade him to forgo these meetings. They had something to do with the running of the company, Annika had been told.
She just had to put up with the situation, which wasn’t difficult. As the renovation of the house progressed and everything lightened around her, she felt as if it was quite intriguing to have a little mystery, something she didn’t know about.
So one beautiful October day, when the sky was blue and clear, a perfect day for going riding, she packed a small rucksack with a flask of coffee and some sandwiches, left a note for Robert, who had gone into town, and headed for the stables.
As she opened the barn door and set off across the indoor school, she suddenly felt unsure of herself. Could she even remember how to tack up? She stopped and looked at the two horses whose heads were poking over the doors of their loose boxes. She could hear faint, familiar sounds: someone was cleaning hooves.
Okay. She would have to ask Erik for help; that was all there was to it. She carried on across the school, watched by a cat that was lying on top of a bale of hay, swishing its tail. As Annika came closer it gave a little meow, jumped down and disappeared into a loose box with the door standing ajar.
“Hello?” Annika called out. “Anyone there?”
Erik emerged; he was indeed holding a hoof pick in one hand while the cat rested in the crook of his other arm, like a baby. He walked toward Annika and she steeled herself to deal with the smell of his breath and the sight of him. Today he was wearing a blue checked shirt which made his piercing blue eyes shine.
For the sake of something to say, Annika pointed at the animal. “Lovely cat.”
“Yes,” Erik said, putting it down on the ground, “I found her a few months ago. She was only half-grown at the time; I assume she’d been left behind by a summer visitor.”
He had stopped a meter away from her, and the stench from his mouth was still noticeable, but it was bearable. She gestured toward the loose boxes. “I thought I might go for a ride.”
“I see. And is this an activity you’re familiar with?”
“I used to ride a lot.”
“I see. And when can we expect an addition?”
Annika assumed she must have misheard him. “Sorry?”
“An addition. To the family. When are you and Robert going to have a baby?”
Annika’s right arm moved up and stroked her hair. The palm of her hand rested against the back of her head, as if to stop her from falling over backward. “What’s it got to do with you?”
Erik didn’t reply; he merely stared at her with those shining eyes: a searching, analytical gaze. Then he moved a step closer; he stopped directly in front of her and inhaled as if he were sniffing the air. He nodded to himself, then exhaled. Through his nose, fortunately.
Annika thought his behavior was so scandalous and so inappropriate for someone who was, after all, an employee that she was about to mention mouthwash, Listerine, toothpaste.
But the words never passed her lips, because the next moment Erik’s hand shot out and grabbed her crotch.
Her eyes widened as a tidal wave of heat surged up through her belly. The walls of her vagina contracted in a spasm so powerful that it was more than an orgasm. Erik brought his face close to hers and the stench of carrion coming from his mouth turned her stomach, while at the same time her insides throbbed with ecstasy, and everything went black.
When she came round she was lying on her back in the sawdust, looking up at the window in the roof as the sunlight was refracted into prisms. The Thermos in her rucksack was digging into her shoulder. She rolled over onto her side and managed to get to her feet.
She remembered what had happened—but what had actually happened? A terrible thought struck her, and she checked her pants, her belt. There was nothing to suggest that her jeans had been removed. She pushed a hand inside her waistband and felt her bottom. No sawdust. There would have been sawdust. She carried out several more checks, everything she could think of. Nothing.
Eventually she looked at her watch. Only five or six minutes had passed since she walked into the barn. There wouldn’t have been time for Erik to undress her, do the deed and dress her again. She could dismiss that particular fear.
But why did she feel so strange down there, burning and tingling as if she had just engaged in a bout of passionate lovemaking? Had she secretly harbored such a strong, suppressed desire for Erik that his touch had made her explode like this?
The ginger cat was gazing at her with its unfathomable eyes. Annika adjusted her rucksack and left the barn on unsteady legs.
A horse was saddled up outside; Erik was adjusting the final strap on the girth. When he saw Annika, he smiled and made an inviting gesture. She stood there swaying from side to side, then she shook her head and walked back toward the house. When she got past the rhododendrons and was out of sight, she broke into a run.
That night she and Robert made love twice. It was as if she needed to drive out some alien element, and Robert’s thrusting penis did actually succeed in filling her with something else, something she wanted. She loved him for that, and continued to love him during the ensuing days and weeks. She wanted him all the time, to the extent that one night Robert turned her down, laughing as she began to nibble at his inner thigh.
“Stop, Annika. I can’t do it. I’m sore.”
She ignored his protests and took him in her mouth. By the time she straddled him a couple of minutes later, he had forgotten any soreness.
A month passed in this way, and Annika didn’t even allow Robert any respite during her period, because her period didn’t come. She was usually as regular as clockwork, and when she was a week late she began to worry. She was only forty-one, and it was much too early for the menopause, unless there was something wrong with her. Something else.
She got an appointment with her gynecologist a week later, when her period still didn’t come. She had also started feeling nauseated in the mornings. Obviously she knew what that could mean, but it was simply unth
inkable. He ovaries were incapable of producing eggs; her gynecologist had made that very clear fifteen years ago.
When that same gynecologist examined her this time, all he could do was shake his head. Yes, she was pregnant.
“But you said that was impossible,” Annika said.
“It was impossible. And in my twenty years—well, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“But it has happened before?”
“Well, I have heard of cases where … But from a theoretical point of view it is impossible, and that was the only prognosis I could give you at the time. I apologize. Congratulations.”
“And how … how far gone am I?”
“Approximately five weeks.”
When Annika returned to the waiting room, she had to sit down for a while. As she stared at a magazine that promised to tell her all about Kristen Stewart’s latest excesses, she thought about Erik.
Five weeks.
It couldn’t be a coincidence. Her unthinkable pregnancy was linked to whatever had happened in the barn. Her subsequent sexual hunger, the result that had just been revealed … Who was Erik?
She needed to find out before she said anything to Robert.
She began to spy on Erik—only in passing at first, by organizing things so that she could glance out of the corner of her eye at what he was up to. That got her nowhere. He carried out the tasks expected of a gardener and a groom. She had to go one step further.
One pleasant day in the middle of November, she hid in the hayloft. Erik was out exercising one of the horses and she had plenty of time to surround herself with hay and dig out a little peephole. She felt stupid. She had ended up in that cheap, trashy novel after all—just in a different genre.
Half an hour went by, and her entire body was itching. The only thing she had to look at was the ginger cat as it padded around the barn. Annika began to feel mildly claustrophobic as she lay there in the enclosed space.
Fearie Tales Page 41
