The Island Affair

by Helena Halme

  * * *

  Patrick watches as Alicia storms out of the police detective's room.

  'What's going on,' he says and runs after Alicia, onto the street, but she waves him away and starts walking fast toward the bus station. He is confused. If Alicia has got a scoop out of the police she would head toward the newspaper offices and not in the opposite direction, surely?

  When Patrick returns to the grim police headquarters, the constable at the desk tells him Ebba has also left. Cursing under his breath and not knowing what to do next, he walks down Hamngatan, where he has left his car in the multistory next to the Hotel Arkipelag. His thoughts turn to Mia and the divorce.

  What is he going to do? He knows his career at Journalen is over. He's never going to win any prestigious prizes for his writing however much he wants to. What he needs to ensure now is that he is still going to be involved in the upbringing of his two girls.

  Kurt Eriksson, his father-in-law, is a rich and powerful man. Patrick knows he has never liked his Swedish son-in-law. Perhaps in the early days when he saw how happy his daughter was. But lately, after Mia's affair, everyone can see the marriage is anything but blissful. Patrick feels the man's disappointment in his fledging career as a journalist. But what would he have him do? Work 12-hour days and let his children be looked after by a paid help?

  In Stockholm, Mia is always busy with the Eriksson's estate business. It’s mostly Patrick who fetches the children from school and takes them to their ballet and riding lessons. It's becoming easier, now they are older and sometimes take themselves on the bus and tunnelbana, but Patrick is overprotective, of his eldest in particular. He will never forget that night when he thought they were going to lose little Sara, and the memory of her limp body in his arms as he carried her to the car in the dead of night. Or how she looked lying on the emergency ward bed with her eyes closed and her damp hair spread either side of her pale head, as if she was a little sleeping princess.

  And he's known about Mia's affair for ages. He knows their relationship hasn't been good for years. They haven't had sex for twelve months. The images of Alicia's slim, strong body writhing beneath his own come into his mind. Alicia’s got under his skin, he knows, but he's not sure she feels the same. She seems to think that he and Mia aren't over and he doesn't know how to convince her otherwise.

  The confirmation that the marriage was at an end came the morning of the Midsummer party. It was long overdue. Patrick had surprised himself at how calm he’d been. He told Mia that he would want to share custody of the girls, and she had nodded. Not in agreement, he knew, but in acknowledgement of his demand.

  'I am going to move to Mariehamn. With the girls,' she replied, regarding him with cold eyes. He tried to recall the last time she had looked lovingly at him, but he couldn't remember.

  Patrick said nothing. He just nodded. Afterwards, he was proud of himself, because he didn't want an argument, and he didn't want Mia to back him into a corner. She was a brilliant negotiator, a skill learned at her father's knee. And he needed time to think about his own options. What was there for him in Stockholm, really?

  Patrick changes his mind and returns to the multistory. He decides to go back to the newspaper offices. Perhaps Alicia has returned by now.

  Forty-Four

  Frida cannot get out of bed. She knows she needs to go and see her mum, but her limbs are so heavy. She's been crying so hard since she saw the news on the online version of the newspaper the previous day that her eyes are swollen and her head hurts. Perhaps she's coming down with something. She lights another cigarette, although she knows she should stop, and drags herself over to the French doors and the small patio in front of her flat. Or, to be more precise, her mother's flat.

  She still misses her mother’s presence in the three-roomed apartment. The place is so quiet without the low humming of her mum as she cooked by the stove in the kitchen, or her laughter in the evenings when she watched old Finnish comedies on TV. Although Frida knows her mother will never come out of the home, she still hopes that a miracle may happen and her mum will return to normal.

  What if I don't go today, will she even notice?

  Frida takes a long drag from her cigarette. She's sitting wrapped up in her duvet on a kitchen chair, blowing the smoke out through the open door. That's when she sees her.

  Quickly, Frida puts out the cigarette in a flower pot she uses for that purpose and shuts the door. As she closes the curtains, she sees Alicia walking toward her with a determined gait. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Frida swears and goes back to bed.

  The knocking starts almost as soon as she's back in her bedroom.

  'Frida, I know you're there. I just want to talk!' The woman shouts through the door.

  Shit, she'll alert the neighbors. An old hag who lives next door would love nothing more than to complain about Frida to the council.

  'Coming,' she shouts back. Still wrapped up in the blanket, Frida goes to the door and lets Alicia in.

  'Thank you,' the woman says politely.

  Frida eyes her up, 'Sit down there,' she says indicating a beaten up green velour sofa. 'Let me get some clothes on.'

  * * *

  Alicia surveys the room where Frida lives. It's not exactly dirty, all the surfaces in the kitchen by the living room are clean and there's only a faint smell of smoke. All the furniture is old, though, and the sofa where she's sitting has a frayed head and armrests. There is an expensive-looking oriental rug in the middle of the room, but that also looks worn-out. The walls are lined with dark wooden bookcases, filled with old hardback volumes and the occasional china figurine. This isn't a young woman's home, Alicia thinks, as Frida reappears wearing a loose dress. Looking at her, Alicia can clearly see there is a bump.

  Frida sits down opposite her in an armchair belonging to the same suite as the sofa.

  'What do you want?'

  'You didn't come to work today and no one has been able to get hold of you.'

  'So? I called in sick. Besides, you're not my employer.' Frida has crossed her arms over her chest, making the bump even more pronounced. Her face looks blotched and the purple color of her dress clashes with the blue of her hair, making her look as though she is in fancy dress. A clown.

  'How far gone are you?' Alicia asks.

  That takes Frida aback. She heaves her back straight, and her eyes stare at Alicia. They are very bloodshot.

  She's been crying.

  For a moment she is afraid that the girl will get up and hit her.

  'What's it to you?' Frida says after a while. Still, there is anger, or defiance in her voice.

  'Is it Daniel's?'

  ‘No!’ she says. Frida is now staring at Alicia.

  ‘Whose then …?

  Suddenly Alicia knows.

  ‘Surely not Stefan?’

  Now the girl breaks down. She lowers her head and begins to sob into her hands. Alicia immediately gets up and goes to hug her.

  'There, there,' she says and rocks the bulk of the girl back and forth. Finally, her crying subsides.

  'Why didn't you tell me? You knew I was Stefan's mother, didn’t you?' Alicia asks as Frida wipes her face and blows her nose loudly into some kitchen paper. It was the only thing Alicia could put her hands on when the crying started.

  Frida nods, 'But Daniel was going to help me. And I have this apartment, and the job at Ålandsbladet.' She blows her nose again and Alicia fetches more paper.

  'Why?'

  Frida looks up at Alicia. Her eyes, with swollen lids, are large. Alicia sees that she is truly devastated.

  'Do you know what happened with Daniel?' Alicia asks gently.

  Now Frida's eyes widen, 'No, do you?'

  Alicia shakes her head. 'He drowned but there are suspicious circumstances.'

  'Yeah, that's what it said online.'

  Alicia says, 'I know, I wrote the article.'

  Frida smiles for the first time since Alicia stepped inside her apartment. 'Sorry, I'm being dense.'

&
nbsp; Alicia squeezes Frida's shoulders. 'No, you're not.'

  They are silent for a moment. Alicia wants to ask all sorts of questions about when Frida is due, how she had met Stefan, did he know about the baby, but she tries to hold fire. She doesn't want to scare Frida away. She looks at the girls' bulging tummy and suddenly feels such joy. In there is a precious thing, a part of her beloved Stefan. A part of her. And a part of Liam. Suddenly Frida starts speaking.

  'We first met at the summer confirmation camp when we were both really young. But it didn’t start properly until last summer. He was so nice, Stefan, you know?'

  Alicia looks at her eyes and nods. She feels tears prick behind her eyes but she controls them and waits.

  Frida continues, 'When we met again, last year, that was it. We fell in love. My mother had just been taken into hospital and Stefan was so good about it, taking me to see her on his moped.' Frida is playing with the frayed piece of tissue in her hands, and now lifts her eyes to Alicia. 'Or Uffe's.'

  Alicia nods. 'Go on.'

  'We spent the whole summer together and in the fall I was accepted onto a language course in Brighton. We met there every weekend until ...'

  Alicia thinks back to the fall frantically. And then she remembers, Stefan said he had a friend in Brighton, but she doesn't remember that he went there every weekend.

  'Sometimes I'd come up to London. Stayed in hostels,' Frida says as if she's read Alicia's mind.

  'When did you find out?' Alicia asks carefully after Frida has been quiet, in her own thoughts, for a few minutes. She knows this grief well, it takes over and then you are gone to the world. Poor girl, she's now lost two of her close friends.

  'November, I'm nearly eight months now.'

  Alicia is shocked and sees the packet of cigarettes by the French doors. 'You shouldn't be smoking.'

  Frida lowers her head. 'I know. I've cut down to two or three a day.'

  Just as well she doesn't look like she's having a baby, Alicia thinks. She's heard of expecting mums being humiliated in public places if they as much as look at a cigarette, or an alcoholic drink.

  'It's really dangerous for the baby,' Alicia says, trying to sound gentle. She takes hold of Frida's hand.

  The girl nods and says, 'Daniel told me that all the time.' Tears start running down Frida's face again and Alicia puts her arms around the girl and says, 'I'm here now. I'll take care of you.'

  * * *

  On her way back to the bus stop, Alicia gets a message on her phone.

  It's from Ebba, 'Did you get hold of Frida?'

  'No,' Alicia taps in reply. The last thing that girl needs is brusque questioning by Ebba. No. The longer she can stay at home and calm herself down, the better. For Frida—and the baby.

  The baby! Alicia stops walking. She's going to be a grandmother! And she's not even forty herself! As this realization hits her, the whole of her heart fills with love toward Frida and the child she is carrying.

  Will the baby look like Stefan?

  Alicia begins walking again, dreaming about a little boy or girl with Stefan's blond curls and hazel eyes. Of course, Frida is also blond, at least when she hasn't dyed her hair the colors of the rainbow. Alicia smiles to herself. She finds Frida's odd style endearing now. She hasn't felt this happy for months. Not since she lost Stefan. What a wonderful gift this is! She imagines herself being at the birth, supporting Frida through the last stages of her pregnancy, and holding the newborn in her arms.

  Another ping from her phone brings Alicia back to the here and now. As she digs out her mobile again, she resolves to stop fantasizing and slow down. Frida might not want her to interfere; she must be careful not to overpower her. She needs this baby more than she has ever needed anything, so she must make sure she will not lose it before the little thing is even born. Frida seems a very independent young woman, and Alicia understands that. She has to respect her wishes above all else. First there is the issue of Daniel's death. She needs to shield Frida from its horrible consequences.

  When Alicia's eyes reach the phone, she sees the message is from Liam.

  'I can't find anything on Stefan's laptop but I know he knew someone called Frida at the summer camp. I can tell you more if we talk. Please call me?'

  It occurs to her that Liam is also going to be a grandparent. Should she tell him now? No, she needs to wait until she has had more time with Frida and has talked through all her options. She deletes his message. She has no desire to talk to Liam.

  Alicia knows Frida is seeing a doctor regularly at the health clinic. That is how Ebba found out she was expecting. She is surprised that the police have access to such information, and that Ebba was allowed to tell her, but knowing the islands, she is aware that rules are often ignored. She remembers when she had conjunctivitis as a child, and her mother went to get some drops from the chemist. The woman who served her already knew Alicia was off school with an eye infection. Her class teacher had told the other kids to keep away from her as it was very infectious.

  'This island mentality is something else,' she remembers her mother muttering as she applied the lotion to Alicia's eyes. At the time, Alicia didn't understand why Hilda was so upset, but as she got older, she understood how suffocating it could be when everyone knew everyone else's business. It was the reason she eventually left to go to university and never returned.

  Until now.

  Forty-Five

  Patrick sits in the deserted offices of Ålandsbladet. He knows that Harri is struggling to make money from the newspaper and that the advertising takings are down, making it necessary to slim down the operation, but it seems there is never anyone around.

  It's true that it’s the height of summer, and most people are on holiday, but it seems Harri is relying on just Alicia and a couple of interns to produce the paper at the moment. He looks at the editor in his glass cubicle. He's written most of the articles for the latest edition himself, with the ads and announcements coming from two members of staff working alongside the personnel woman on the second floor.

  Patrick glances at his watch. It's nearly 2pm. If Alicia doesn't show up, he'll have to produce a piece on the Romanian boy’s death on his own and he has absolutely nothing to go on. Yesterday Harri asked him to help Alicia out, but there was no mention of a fee. It is unbelievable how they use him. The only reason he comes to the offices in summer is to make himself useful. This year, there's also Alicia.

  Alicia.

  He was hoping he could take her out to lunch again, even take her to the flat, but there's no sign of her. Where could she be?

  He doesn't want to go back to their summer cottage. Now that negotiations on the divorce settlement have started, the atmosphere at the Eriksson's villa is even more stifling. Even spending time with his daughters is fraught with the possibility of being told how useless he is. Only last week, when he was there for a night, his mother-in-law had stomped into the kitchen to get a glass of water and found him giving the girls ice creams. 'Those will spoil their appetite for dinner,' she had said, not even glancing at Patrick, before floating back to the vast living room.

  Magda had been in the kitchen too, preparing dinner, and Patrick had made a conspiratorial face to her behind his mother-in-law's back. They all laughed, including the girls, but Patrick had had enough of his in-laws. When he was rid of them, he would give Sara and Frederica as many ice creams as they wanted. So what if they have too many sweet things every now and then? Patrick spent his days helping out at the newspaper to avoid being constantly humiliated. But being near Alicia was also a bonus. He is surprised how quickly he's become infatuated by her. Just the thought of her face near to his makes him smile. The Midsummer night was magical too. He couldn't remember the last time he’d wanted to kiss anyone so badly. He needs to convince her he is serious.

  * * *

  He sees Alicia enter the office before she spots him. He gets up from the desk where he has been waiting and walks toward her.

  'What happened to you?' Patri
ck says. He's trying to keep his voice level, but judging by Alicia's face, his words have too much urgency in them.

  Alicia shrugs, but she looks happy, which is strange. Patrick cannot help but smile in return.

  'You've had good news?'

  Alicia regards Patrick for a moment. She looks over to where the editor is sitting. Patrick knows he has his door open.

  'It's complicated,' she says in a low voice.

  'Try me,' Patrick replies, moving closer to her. He takes in her scent of flowers and sunshine. It's just the two of them in the vast office, but Patrick knows the editor can hear everything through the open door. 'Let's have a coffee,' he says, indicating with one hand the small kitchen to the side of the office.

  Alicia nods.

  Inside, Patrick and Alicia sit opposite one another. Alicia, taking a deep breath, begins to talk.

  * * *

  Alicia didn’t think she would blurt everything out to Patrick, but she realizes she has a dilemma. The only thing she could write about Daniel would be an interview with Frida on what sort of person her friend Daniel had been. She decides to tell Patrick the truth.

  'Wow,' Patrick says when she's finished. 'I thought she was just a bit fat,' he says as if to himself.

  Alicia slaps him on the arm, but she can't help the smile that keeps spreading over her face since Frida told her the news.

  'Who's the father?' Patrick asks. When he sees Alicia's expression, he opens his mouth, then closes it and nods, 'Of course, I get it now!'

  Alicia can't say anything. Talking to Patrick about Frida and the baby has made it even more real to her. Plus she doesn't know if Frida will mind her sharing the news. Although, it will soon be visible to everyone.

  She realizes she doesn't care about the paper, the story or anything except protecting the baby. She's close to tears, happy tears, and instead of saying anything more, she bites her lip.