Before he entered he was in the habit of stopping to look up at the tower, with his head tipped back as far as he could manage. In windy weather like today he had the illusion that the tower was swaying, and the imposing sight of thousands of tons of granite about to fall on him always made him feel respect for the men who had built the majestic church. Sometimes he wished that he had lived in those times and been one of the stonecutters of Bohuslän. Those men who lived in obscurity and yet had used their hands to create everything from the simplest roads to the most magnificent statues. But he was wise enough to know that this was all a romantic dream. Life had probably not been much fun for those men, and he appreciated the comforts of the present day far too much to fool himself into thinking he'd be better off without them.
After permitting himself a moment of daydreaming, he opened the port. Guiltily he caught himself crossing his fingers that Arne wouldn't be there. There was nothing really wrong with the fellow, and he did a good enough job, but Harald had to admit that he had a problem with the old adherents of Schartau's pietistic Lutheranism, and Arne was one of the worst. One would have to search far and wide to find another the likes of this gloomy man. He seemed to revel in misery and constantly sought the negative in everything. Sometimes when Arne was standing next to him, Harald could feel all joy in life being literally sucked out of him. Nor did he have much patience for the man's eternal harping about female pastors, either. If Harald had five Kronor for each time Arne had taken offence over his predecessor, he would be a rich man today. Honestly, he couldn't understand what was so terrible about a woman preaching God's word instead of a man. Whenever Arne launched into one of his tirades, Harald had to stifle a desire to say that it didn't require a penis to preach God's word, but he always bit his tongue just in time. Poor Arne would probably drop dead on the spot if he heard a pastor say anything like that.
Once inside the sacristy all hope vanished that Arne might have stayed securely at home. Harald heard his voice and thought that he was probably talking to some poor tourists who had run into the most conservative verger in the Swedish realm. For a moment Harald was tempted to sneak back out. Then he sighed and thought he should do the Christian thing and go in and rescue the poor creatures.
But there were no tourists in sight. Instead Arne was standing high up on the pulpit and preaching in a thunderous voice to the empty pews. Harald stared at him in disbelief, wondering what on earth had taken possession of the fellow.
Arne was waving his arms and working hard as if he were holding a sermon on the mount; he stopped only for a moment when he saw Harald come in the door. Then he went on as if nothing had happened. Now Harald also saw all the papers strewn beneath the pulpit. That was explained when Arne with sweeping gestures tore pages out of the psalmbook he held in his hand and let them float to the floor.
'What do you think you're doing?' said Harald indignantly, striding resolutely up the centre aisle of the church.
'I'm doing what should have been done a long time ago,' replied Arne belligerently. 'I'm ripping up the horrible new-fangled things. Ungodly is what they are,' he snorted and continued to rip out page after page. 'I don't understand why everything old suddenly has to be changed. It was all so much better before. Now all morality has been made lax, and people dance and sing whether it's Thursday or Sunday! Not to mention that they're copulating everywhere, outside the sanctity of marriage.'
His hair was standing on end, and Harald wondered once again whether poor Arne had completely lost his mind. He didn't know what had brought on this sudden outburst. Arne had of course been muttering much the same opinions year in and year out, but he had never ventured to do anything this bold before.
'You've got to calm down, Arne. Please come down from the pulpit and we'll have a talk.'
'Talk? Ha! That's all anyone does,' Arne spouted from his elevated position. 'That's what I'm saying, it's time for action instead! And this place is as good as any to begin,' he said as page after page continued falling to the floor like big snowflakes.
But now Harald flew into a temper. Standing here vandalizing his magnificent church! There had to be a limit to the man's nonsense!
'Come down from there, Arne, come down right now!' he shouted, which made the verger stop short. Never before had the pastor raised his voice. He was normally so gentle, so it had an effect.
'You have ten seconds to come down from there, or I'll come up and get you, big as you are!' Harald went on, now bright red in the face with rage. The look in his eyes left no doubt that he meant business.
Arne's belligerence was deflated as fast as it came on, and he docilely obeyed the pastor's command.
'All right, then,' said Harald in a considerably milder voice when he went over to Arne and put an arm round his shoulders. 'Let's go over to the parsonage. I'll put on a pot of coffee, and we'll have a little of that coffee cake that Signe was so kind to bake. Then we'll have a talk, you and I.'
And they walked off down the centre aisle towards the door, the small man with his arm round the big man. Like an odd bridal couple.
Monica felt a bit dizzy when she got out of the car. She hadn't got much sleep the night before. The thought of the horrible thing Kaj was accused of doing had kept her awake till the wee hours.
The worst thing was actually the lack of any doubt. When she heard the police officer read off the allegations, she knew from the first moment that they were true. So many pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place. Suddenly there was an explanation for so much that had happened during their years together.
A feeling of disgust turned her stomach, and she leaned against the car and spat out a little gall onto the asphalt. She had fought off the nausea all morning. When she arrived at work, her boss had told her that she didn't have to work if she didn't feel like it, considering the circumstances. But she had refused to go home. The thought of sitting at home all day was repulsive. She would rather endure people's stares than walk about in his house, sit on his sofa, cook food in his kitchen. The thought that he had touched her, although not in a long, long time, made her want to flay the skin from her body.
But in the end she had no choice. After she'd tried to stay on her feet for an hour the boss had told her to go home, and this time he refused to take no for an answer. With a lump in her stomach she had slowly started driving home. By the time she got to the bottom of Galärbacken she was just creeping along. The driver of the car behind her had honked his horn in annoyance, but Monica couldn't have cared less.
If it hadn't been for Morgan she would have packed a bag and driven to her sister's house. But she couldn't abandon him. He would go crazy anywhere else than in his little cabin; the fact that they had taken his computers was enough of an upheaval in his world. Yesterday she had found him wandering restlessly among his stacks of magazines. He was lost without his anchors in the real world. She hoped that the police would give back his computers soon.
Monica took out the key to the front door and was about to unlock it when she stopped. She wasn't ready to go inside yet. A sudden longing to see her son made her stuff the key back in her pocket, go down the steps and take the path to Morgan's cabin. He would surely be annoyed that she was breaking the routines and showing up at his place, but for once she didn't care. She remembered how he had smelled as a baby, how that smell had made her want to move mountains for his sake. Now she felt a need to sniff the back of his neck once more, as big as he was, to hug him as if he were her rock, instead of vice versa, as it had been for all these years.
She knocked cautiously on the door and waited. There was no sound from inside, and she began to feel uneasy. Monica knocked again, a little harder this time, and waited tensely to hear the sound of footsteps inside. Nothing.
She tried the door, but it was locked. Fumbling, she reached above the door for the spare key and finally found it.
Where could he be? Morgan hardly ever went anywhere by himself. Never before had he gone anywhere without either taking her alo
ng or at least very properly telling her where he was going. Fear began prickling at her throat, and she half-expected to find him dead inside his cabin. That was what she had always dreaded. That one day he would stop talking about death and instead decide to seek it out. Maybe the loss of his computers and the encroachment into his world had made him finally decide to set off for the place from which there was no return.
But the cabin was empty. Anxiously she looked around, and her gaze quickly fell on a piece of paper lying on top of a pile of magazines near the door. She recognized Morgan's handwriting even before she read what he'd written, and her heart skipped a beat. She breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she read the note. She didn't realize until her shoulders relaxed how hard she'd been clenching her muscles.
'Computers ready. Went with the police to pick up,' it said on the paper, and her concern returned. It wasn't the suicide note she had feared, but there was something that didn't make sense. Why would the police come to collect him so that he could get his computers back? Wouldn't they have brought them along and delivered them directly?
Monica made up her mind in an instant. She dashed back to the car and drove off with a squeal of rubber. The whole way to Tanumshede she pressed the accelerator to the floor, and her hands clutched the steering wheel so hard that they began to sweat. When she passed the intersection by Tanum Tavern she heard sirens behind her and was overtaken by an ambulance driving at high speed. She unconsciously sped up and almost flew past Hedemyr's. At Mr Li's store she had to stop suddenly, and the strap of the seat belt locked hard against her chest. The ambulance had stopped right in front of the police station, and a queue of cars had formed from both directions because they couldn't get past what looked like the scene of an accident. When she craned her neck she could see a dark heap lying in the street. She didn't need to see any more to know who it was.
As if in slow motion she undid her seat belt and opened the car door, leaving it wide open after she climbed out. With a feeling of impending doom she walked very slowly towards the accident scene.
The first thing she saw was the blood. The red running from his head onto the asphalt and spreading out in a wide circle around his hair. The second thing she saw were his eyes. Wide open, dead.
A man was heading towards her. His arms ready to stop her. His mouth moved, said something. She ignored the man and continued straight ahead. She fell heavily to her knees next to Morgan. She placed his head on her lap and held it close, without caring about the blood that was still trickling out and now wetting her trousers. Then she heard the wail. She wondered who could sound so sad, so full of pain. Then she realized it was herself.
They had driven faster than the speed limit all the way to Uddevalla. Lilian had assured them that Albin was safe with Veronika and Frida, so they could drive directly to the hospital from the police station. Charlotte hoped that they wouldn't arrive too late. Her mother had sounded as if Stig's life hung by a thread, and she caught herself clasping her hands as if in prayer, although she was not a religious person.
Stig was the friendliest person she had ever met. She realized only now how fond of him she'd grown during the time they had lived with him and Lilian. She'd met him before that, of course, but it was always during such brief visits. She didn't really get to know him until they moved in. Much of her warm feeling was based on the fact that he and Sara had been so close. He'd been able to coax out the good from her daughter, favourable traits that Charlotte had always known existed but couldn't reach. Sara was never insolent to Stig, she never burst out in a rage, she didn't jump around like a crazy person, incapable of controlling her energy. With him she sat calmly on the edge of the bed and held his hand, telling him about her day at school. Charlotte had never ceased to be amazed at how Sara behaved when she was with Stig, and now she sincerely regretted not having told him that. She realized she had hardly even spoken to him since Sara died. She had been so immersed in her own grief that she hadn't even thought of his. He must have been heartbroken as he lay upstairs in his room, sick and in pain and with only his own thoughts to keep him company. She should have at least gone up to see him and have a talk.
As soon as the car stopped in the car park, Charlotte jumped out. She ran towards the entrance and didn't wait for Niclas. He knew his way around the hospital better than she did, so he would soon catch up.
'Charlotte!' Lilian came towards her with arms outstretched as she entered the waiting room. Her mother was sobbing, and everyone turned to look at her. People crying had the same effect on their fellow human beings as car crashes. Nobody could help looking.
Charlotte awkwardly patted her mother on the back. Lilian had never been particularly demonstrative, and physical contact with her felt unusual.
'Oh, Charlotte, it was dreadful! I went up to bring him some tea and he was completely out of it! I called his name and tried to shake him, but I got no response at all. And nobody can tell me what was wrong with him. He's in intensive care and they won't let me see him. Shouldn't I be allowed to be with him? And what if he dies!'
Lilian shrieked so loudly it was heard all over the room, and for a moment Charlotte was embarrassed to have everyone looking at them. Then she pulled herself together and reminded herself that her mother had always had a tendency towards the dramatic, but that didn't make her worry any less genuine.
'Sit down and I'll go see whether I can find us a cup of coffee. Niclas will be here soon, and he can probably find out something in no time. They're his old colleagues, after all.'
'Do you think so?' said Lilian, clinging to her daughter's arm.
'Certainly,' said Charlotte, carefully loosening Lilian's grip. It actually surprised her how calm and secure she felt. The loss of Sara had dulled her emotions, which made her able to think practically despite her own concern about Stig.
Gratefully she saw Niclas enter the waiting room, and she met him at the door.
'Mamma is hysterical. I'll go and fetch some coffee for all of us. I promised her that you would try to find out more about what's happening with Stig.'
Niclas nodded. He raised his hand and caressed Charlotte's cheek. The unaccustomed gesture made her flinch. She couldn't really remember him ever touching her with such tenderness.
'How are you holding up?' he asked her with genuine concern, and despite the sadness of the situation she felt something like joy blossom in her heart.
'I'm doing all right,' she replied, smiling at him as a sign that she wasn't going to break down.
'Are you sure?'
'I'm sure. Go talk to your colleagues now, so we can get some straight answers.'
He did as she said. A while later, as she and Lilian were sitting together sipping their coffee, he came back and sat down next to them.
'Well? Did you find out anything?' said Charlotte, trying by sheer force of will to make him say something positive. Unfortunately it didn't work.
Niclas's face was grim when he said, 'I'm afraid we have to prepare for the worst. They're doing what they can, but they're not sure that Stig will live out the day. We just have to wait and see.'
Lilian gasped and threw her arms round Niclas's neck. Feeling just as awkward as Charlotte, he tried to console her by patting her back. Charlotte had a sense of deja vu. Lilian had been in this same state when Charlotte's father died, and the doctors ended up giving her a sedative so she wouldn't totally fall apart. The whole thing was so unfair. Losing one husband was bad enough. Charlotte turned to Niclas.
'Couldn't they tell you anything about what's wrong with him?'
'They doing lots of tests and will probably work out eventually what it is. But right now the most important thing is to keep him alive long enough to be able to find the proper treatment. As things look now, it could be anything from cancer to some viral infection. All they said was that he should have come to the hospital long ago.'
Charlotte saw the guilt flicker like a shadow across his face. She leaned her head against his shoulder.
'
You're only human, Niclas. Stig didn't want to go to the hospital, and it didn't seem dangerous when you examined him, did it? He was up now and then and seemed fairly spry, and he said himself that he didn't have much pain.'
'I shouldn't have listened to him. Damn it, I'm a doctor, I should have known better.'
'Don't forget that we've had a few other things on our minds,' Charlotte said in a low voice, but Lilian still heard her.
'Why does all the misfortune in the world have to descend on us? First Sara, and now Stig,' she wailed, blowing her nose in the paper napkin that Charlotte had given her. People in the waiting room who had gone back to reading their magazines now looked at them again. Charlotte felt irritation seize hold of her.
The Stone Cutter Page 39
