She's Never Coming Back

by Hans Koppel

  ‘Like on the computer.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  They cut across the grass, which was wet. Mike held the gate open for Sanna, saw Marianne in the kitchen window and raised his hand in greeting. She opened the door before they’d even got there.

  ‘Gösta’s not at home,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, that’s a pity,’ Mike said, and placed his hands on his daughter’s shoulders. ‘Sanna’s just started to play the recorder. I thought I’d ask if we could borrow the studio to record her first attempts.’

  ‘The studio?’ Marianne didn’t understand.

  ‘The music studio,’ Mike said. ‘In the cellar.’

  ‘Oh, right. No, I’m afraid that’s not possible.’

  Mike smiled, taken aback. Marianne shifted her weight.

  ‘Gösta’s very particular about his studio. He doesn’t like to let anyone in. It’s his space for him.’

  ‘I understand, I understand.’

  Mike started to feel uncertain, didn’t know how to approach it.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, and smiled because he couldn’t think of anything else. ‘Thanks anyway.’

  He hoped that it didn’t sound ironic.

  ‘It’s not that he means any harm,’ Marianne said.

  ‘No, no, I understand. Tell him I was asking for him.’

  ‘I will do.’

  Mike turned around as if to go, then changed his mind at the last moment.

  ‘Your daughter,’ he said.

  The reaction was immediate. Mike could see it in her eyes. But it was so unthinkable that he carried on talking, even though in that instant he had understood.

  ‘She went to school with Ylva,’ he said, and felt all the pieces falling into place.

  Everything the nutter had ranted about was right, every single word was true.

  Marianne said nothing. The woman’s face was cold and guarded, revealing no emotion.

  There was a noise from the cellar.

  ‘I’m going down into the cellar,’ Mike said, and stepped past Marianne.

  At that moment Sanna screamed when she saw a bloody, deathly white and nearly naked person appear at the top of the stairs.

  Mike stopped in his tracks. The woman’s skin looked plastic, almost see-through. The only thing that looked real was the blood that was running from her mouth down her body. She raised her arm, stretched it out. Mike knew the whole time who she was, but it was only in the way that she lifted her arm that he recognised his wife.

  59

  Mike rushed to Ylva, put her arm round his shoulder and supported her out of the house. They stopped at the gate. She couldn’t go any further. Mike sat down on the gravel, rested Ylva’s head in his lap, rocked her. Sanna stood at a distance, not daring to go forward.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Ylva said.

  Mike shook his head.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he said.

  Ylva looked around for her daughter.

  ‘Sanna,’ Mike called. ‘It’s Mummy.’

  He held out his hand, urged her to come over. She hesitated. The bloody woman frightened her. The red teeth, the grey hair, the porcelain-white skin. She wanted to run away, not to see.

  Ylva lifted her hand slightly.

  Sanna went over, hunkered down.

  ‘I can play,’ she said. ‘Do you want to hear?’

  There was blood everywhere and, to begin with, the ambulance crew couldn’t work out who was actually injured. When Mike told them that the blood on his clothes was from Ylva, they quickly examined her, lifted her on to a stretcher and carried her towards the ambulance. A group of hypnotised, staring neighbours moved out of the way so they could pass.

  Mike took Sanna by the hand and followed them to the ambulance. The paramedic put an oxygen mask on Ylva’s face and the driver got in behind the wheel.

  Ylva had lost consciousness to the sound of ‘Three Blind Mice’. Mike thought he had seen something like a smile on her lips.

  Loud voices could be heard from outside. Through the ambulance window, Mike saw flames in Gösta and Marianne’s kitchen. The curtain caught fire, flames licked the ceiling.

  ‘Is there anyone in the house?’ the ambulance driver asked.

  Mike didn’t answer. He watched the paramedic pressing a rubber pump that was attached to the mask on Ylva’s face, and he knew that they were helping her breathe. He knew that they were in an ambulance that was now accelerating up the hill, he was aware that he was holding his daughter’s hand. And yet it all washed over him.

  The paramedic repeated the driver’s question: ‘Is there anyone in the house?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sanna replied.

  The ambulance driver radioed the emergency switchboard. The paramedic was working frenetically. Administering oxygen, injecting fluid, saying things. Everything was happening like it was all a film.

  Mike thought it was a strange job, working so close to death. Unnecessarily dramatic, he thought. The paramedic talked constantly, informing the driver of the patient’s condition. Eventually he looked at his watch. He said the time clearly and loudly. Mike couldn’t understand what difference it made.

  Ylva was going to be dead for a long time.

  60

  Someone took Mike’s bloody clothes and gave him a short-sleeved white cotton shirt with the county council logo printed on the front. They were shown to a waiting room. Sanna sat on her father’s knee, Nour in the chair beside them. All three holding hands, saying nothing.

  The waiting room had a lino floor and blond-wood furniture with green covers.

  Sanna leaned forward and picked up a comic from the table. She gave it to Mike. He read for her.

  About Bamse and Lille Skutt and some idiot who gets into a fight but is forgiven in the end and allowed back into the fold. Mike carried on reading the next story, even though he wasn’t sure whether Sanna was actually listening or just wanted to hear his voice. She bounced her foot up and down in the air, nervously.

  The door opened and they all looked up at the nurse.

  ‘She’s ready now,’ she said.

  They walked down the corridor. The nurse stopped in front of a door and turned to make sure they were prepared.

  Nour looked at Mike.

  ‘I don’t know if …’

  ‘Yes,’ Mike said, and pressed her hand. ‘Please.’

  The nurse opened the door and let them through.

  Ylva was lying on the bed with a blanket pulled up to her shoulders. Her head was resting peacefully on the pillow. Her eyes were closed and the blood had been washed away. The pale, almost porcelain skin was less alarming in the dimmed light. It was so obvious that it was a body, not a person.

  Nour stayed back, let Mike and Sanna go and sit on the chairs by the bed.

  After a few minutes, Mike’s back started to heave and he fell forward over his dead wife. Sanna reached out her hand and comforted him.

  When they finally got up, their eyes were red and swollen.

  Nour held out her arms and embraced them both.

  61

  Karlsson tasted the coffee and returned to the article he had just read. There were a lot of facts to take in and memorise. Some of the information was new to him, and friends and acquaintances would press him for bonus material as if he was a DVD.

  And he had to feed the mob or he would lose face. Not informed? Not up-to-date? You should know, you work for the police. Didn’t you head the investigation?

  Gerda was sitting opposite with his own copy of the newspaper. He too was reading the article, for the same reason.

  ‘Jesus, what sick bastards.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘How long was she down there?’

  ‘Over a year and a half.’

  ‘And her husband was being treated by the guy all that time? You’d think he might have guessed.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Strange that he didn’t suspect.’

  ‘Who? The man?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Ver
y strange.’

  ‘Completely improbable.’

  ‘We couldn’t have done anything.’

  ‘What could we have done? How could you guess this?’

  Gerda carried on reading the article.

  ‘Was he already dead?’

  ‘The man? Must have been. No smoke in his lungs. Unlike the old bird who set fire to the place.’

  ‘So Ylva snuffed him?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Good job.’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘But strange that she didn’t do it earlier.’

  ‘She probably didn’t have the chance.’

  ‘No. But all the same.’

  Karlsson shook his head.

  ‘Fucking pervert.’

  Gerda agreed. Someone knocked on the door. They both looked up. A colleague was standing there holding a newspaper open with a grin on his face.

  ‘Have you seen this?’

  He threw the paper on the desk and went away whistling. Gerda rounded the desk so he could read at the same time as Karlsson.

  Ylva died unnecessarily – police ignored important tips.

  The article included a picture of Karlsson and described the phone call that he’d taken a few days earlier.

  ‘Who’s written this crap?’ Karlsson said, and looked for the byline. ‘Calle Collin? Who the fuck is Calle Collin?’

  62

  Sanna had managed to nag her dad into an extra swim. She wanted to swim in the swell of the six-thirty ferry to Oslo. The ferry left Copenhagen at five and sailed past Hittarp at twenty past six. The swell reached the shore ten minutes later. The waves weren’t that big, but they were reliable and on time.

  Mike hadn’t been hard to convince. He believed that nagging should pay off. What other possibilities did children have to influence things? Besides, he had swum in the half-six waves himself as a child, and it was a tradition that he wanted to pass on.

  They got there in good time, and Sanna jumped into the water immediately. She didn’t want to wait around on the jetty. It was the water she wanted, the waves were a bonus. Nour sat on the bench.

  ‘Here they come,’ Mike said, and pointed out into the sound.

  Sanna swam quickly over to the ladder and climbed up. She stood ready and looked at her father.

  ‘Aren’t you going to swim?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, and pulled at the drawstring of his trunks.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Let’s see a proper dive then,’ Nour called.

  Sanna stood with her eyes fixed on the waves that were slowly coming closer. She patted her father on the stomach.

  ‘The biggest one, okay?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Now.’

  They ran to the edge of the jetty and jumped in.

  63

  Annika is so happy that she’s been asked, that they even know who she is. The gang who sits perched on the windowsill, leaning against the glass, looking down on everyone. Places where the ones who ruled always sat and where the losers and the oppressed didn’t dare go. They know who she is because Ylva shouted after her and walked with her to the gymnasium and even invited her to her house. It’s not going to be a party or anything, they’re just going to hang out. TV? No TV. Fuck TV. No, no.

  But what’s strange is that they’ve got nothing to talk about, and Ylva hardly says anything, not until the boys come with the alcohol that they’ve smuggled out of their parents’ bar cabinets, and then she talks non-stop, and they drink and get all weird and laugh and Annika tries to laugh as well, but when they ask her why she’s laughing she has no explanation and Ylva says she thinks Annika should show her tits to the boys, Annika doesn’t understand why and Ylva asks if she doesn’t dare, if she thinks that the boys haven’t seen tits before, and the boys think that Annika should show them her tits as well and Annika thinks that maybe she should get up and go, but they’re just joking with her, can’t she take a joke, and they fill her glass and now she’s part of it all again and they laugh together and then Ylva says that she thinks Annika should definitely show her tits, come on, just a flash, and everyone looks at her, it’s easy enough, just a quick flash and Annika lifts her top and then pulls it down again, but I didn’t get to see, says one of the boys, we didn’t either, shout the other two, and they nag at her again and Ylva says that it doesn’t really matter now, she’s already shown them, let them have a look, and Annika lifts her top and holds it up and one of the boys wants to touch them, just to feel, but Annika doesn’t want him to, oh don’t be so boring, and Annika lets the boy touch her and then the other two want to touch her too and they say that she’s got nice tits and they feel good and Annika takes her top off completely and kisses one of the boys and they all laugh and drink more and Annika wants to put her top on again, but Ylva thinks she should take off her trousers instead and show her fanny, but Annika doesn’t want to show her fanny, come on why not, what does it matter, but Annika still doesn’t want to, Ylva says she’s being ridiculous, as if there’s anything wrong with showing your fanny, but do as you please, Annika, and the boys laugh and Ylva says that it was worse to show your breasts really as your fanny is just a triangle of hair and she and the boys have already been in a sauna together and stayed with each other and seen everything there is to see and there’s nothing weird about it, no, the boys say, then you can start, Annika says, but they think it’s a better idea for Annika to do it as she’s already taken some of her clothes off and she just needs to show it and once again all their attention is focused on Annika and there are friendly smiles and encouraging nods and it’s not weird at all, and okay, she undoes the button and they applaud, and it’s quite fun and she pulls down the zip and sways her naked chest seductively and the boys clap and Ylva thinks she’s fun and Annika pulls her trousers about halfway down her thigh, puts her thumbs inside the top of her knickers, rolls them down, lets them get a glimpse of her hair and they shriek, more more, and Annika pulls down her knickers and shows them it all, and her success is complete and maybe Annika will regret it later but the moment in itself is great and beautiful and something she will remember and carry around inside and she pulls up her knickers again and they boo her, but she sits back down on the sofa, gets hold of her jeans and lifts her bum to pull them on properly, but then one of the boys holds them down and they laugh and joke and Annika tells him to let go, but he just jokes and one of the boys says that she’s beautiful and has an amazing body and he kisses her for real and caresses her breasts and she feels the others pulling off her jeans, but she can’t bear to protest and she still has her knickers on and it’s nice and uncomfortable at the same time and the boy who’s kissing her lets his hand wander down and he puts it over her knickers and the hand feels warm and nice and she thinks that maybe this is what it’s like because she doesn’t know anything else and she hears someone undoing their trousers but it’s not the boy she’s kissing and she stops kissing and looks in surprise at Ylva and the boy who now has his trousers and boxers round his ankles and who shuffles over and Annika isn’t kissing anyone any more and she doesn’t want to, but no one listens and everything is quiet and there’s no laughing and the boy pushes himself in and comes quickly and the next boy is waiting and Ylva is sitting beside them watching, and the third boy penetrates her and complains that he’s last because now she’s been widened and it’s like putting your cock in a bucket of warm water and they laugh and then there’s nothing more to do so they pull up their trousers, button them up and drink what’s left in their glasses and Annika sits rolled up like a ball as she tries to pull on her clothes, piece by piece, and Ylva says that it’s maybe best if she goes and if she says anything they’ll say what a fucking whore she is, fucking three guys like that on the same night.

 

 

  ookFrom.Net