‘Not that I know of,’ said Patrik. ‘Most of our friends have been married for ages.’
Erica opened the card. ‘Uh-oh,’ she said, and looked at Patrik.
‘What?’ He grabbed the card out of her hand. Then he read it aloud, his voice incredulous.
‘We wish to invite you to be a guest at the wedding of Kristina Hedström and Gunnar Zetterlund.’
He glanced up at Erica and then looked back at the invitation.
‘Is this a joke?’ he said, turning the card over.
‘I don’t think so.’ Erica started to giggle. ‘It’s so sweet!’
‘But they’re so … old,’ said Patrik, trying not to think about his mother wearing a white gown and veil.
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Erica, getting up to give him a kiss. ‘It’s going to be great. Our very own Mr Fix-it in the family. We won’t have anything left to repair in the house, and maybe he’ll even build an extension so we’ll have twice the amount of space.’
‘What a dreadful thought,’ Patrik said, but he couldn’t help laughing. Erica was right. He wished nothing but joy for his mother, and it was wonderful that she’d found love in her old age. He just needed some time to get used to the idea.
‘Sometimes you’re so childish,’ said Erica, ruffling his hair. ‘It’s lucky you’re so nice.’
‘You too,’ he said and smiled.
He decided to try and put all thoughts of Victoria and the other girls behind him. There was nothing more he could do to help them. But here at home he had his wife and children, who needed him and gave him so much love. There was nothing about his life that he would change. Not a single thing.
Chapter Seventeen
They still had no idea where to go, but she wasn’t worried. People like her and Jonas always found a way. For them there were no boundaries, no obstacles.
Her life had already started over twice. The last time in the abandoned house where she’d met Jonas. She was lying on the floor asleep when she opened her eyes and saw a boy looking at her. As soon as their eyes met, they knew they belonged together. She had seen the darkness in his soul, and he had seen the darkness in hers.
She had been drawn to Fjällbacka by an irresistible force. When she was travelling with the circus, all of Europe had been her home, but she had always known she would return. She had never felt anything so strongly, and when she finally came back, Jonas was there waiting for her.
He was her destiny, and in the murky light of the house, he had told her everything. About the room underneath the barn, and about what his father did to girls down there. Girls that no one ever missed. Girls who belonged nowhere and were of no worth.
They decided to follow in Einar’s footsteps, but unlike him they chose girls who would be missed, girls who were loved. Creating a puppet, a helpless doll, from someone who was important to someone else had made their enjoyment even greater. That may have been their downfall, but they wouldn’t have done it any other way.
She was not afraid of the unknown. It simply meant that they were forced to create new worlds somewhere else. As long as they had each other, it didn’t matter. When she met Jonas, she had become Marta. His twin, his soul mate.
Jonas filled her heart. He was her whole life. And yet she still hadn’t been able to resist Victoria. It was so strange. She had always understood the importance of self-control and had never allowed herself to be governed by her desires. But she wasn’t stupid. She realized that she was attracted to Victoria because the girl reminded her of someone who had once been a part of her, someone who still was. Victoria had unconsciously summoned up old memories, and she hadn’t been able to let her go. She wanted both Jonas and Victoria.
It had been a mistake to give in to the temptation to touch the skin of a young girl once again, a girl who reminded her of a love she had lost. After a while she realized the relationship was untenable, and besides, she’d begun to tire of the situation. There were actually more differences than similarities. So she surrendered Victoria to Jonas. He forgave her, and her love for him seemed even greater because of what they then shared.
It was unforgivable that they hadn’t properly closed the trap door in the floor of the barn that night. They had grown careless, allowing Victoria to move about freely in the room. But they had never imagined she would be able to climb the ladder, get out of the barn, and then flee on foot through the woods. They had underestimated Victoria, and they’d taken a risk when they allowed her death to occur so close to home. It had cost them dearly, but neither of them saw this as the end. Instead, it was a new beginning. A new life. Her third.
Her first new life began on one of those summer days when the heat was so strong it almost felt like her blood was boiling inside her body. She and Louise had decided to go for a swim. And she was the one who suggested they go past the bathing beach and jump into the water from the rocks.
They counted to three and then jumped, holding hands. They thrilled at the speed of their fall and the wonderful cold of the water when they plunged in. But the next second it felt like a pair of strong arms seized hold of her and pulled her down into the deep. The water closed over her head, and she fought the undertow with all her might.
When her head breached the surface again, she began swimming towards land, but it was like trying to move through tar. She made only slight progress as she kept turning her head to look for Louise. Her lungs were straining too hard for her to manage a shout, and her brain was filled with only one thought: to survive, to make it to shore.
Suddenly the undertow let her go, and with every stroke she was moving forward. A few minutes later she reached the shore. Exhausted, she stretched out on her stomach, with her legs in the water and her cheek pressed against the sand. When she’d caught her breath, she sat up with great effort and looked about. She called to Louise, but there was no answer. She held her hand up to shade her eyes and studied the surface of the water. Then she sprang to her feet and clambered up on the rocks where they had jumped. She ran back and forth, searching, shouting, getting more and more desperate. Finally she sank down on to the rocks and sat there for a long time, waiting. She thought maybe she should run for help. But if she did, their plans would never be realized. Louise was gone, and it was better if she went on alone rather than give up altogether.
She left everything on the rocks. Their clothes and their other belongings. She had loaned Louise her favourite blue swimsuit. In a strange way she was glad that Louise was wearing that suit when she went down into the deep. As if it were a gift.
Then she walked away, leaving the sea behind. At a nearby house she stole some clothing that had been hung on a line to dry, and with great determination she then walked to the place where she knew she’d find her future. To be safe, she went through the woods, which meant she didn’t reach Fjällbacka until night time. When she saw the circus in the distance – with its bright colours, cheerful sounds, and noisy spectators – the whole scene was strangely familiar. She had arrived home.
On that day she became Louise, the girl who had done what she herself had longed to do. The girl who had seen blood gush out of a person’s body until the flame of life was extinguished. Filled with envy, she had listened to Louise’s stories about the circus, and about Vladek’s life as a lion tamer. It sounded so exotic compared with her own dreary background. She had wanted to be Louise, wanted to have her past.
She had developed a hatred for Peter and Laila. Louise had told her everything. About how her mother had taken the blame for the murder, how her grandmother had taken in the beloved son but refused to have anything to do with Louise. Even though Louise had never asked her to seek revenge, that was what she would do. Hatred had turned her blood cold, and she had done what she needed to do.
Then she had gone to Louise’s home, her own home, and there she had met Jonas. She was Tess. She was Louise. She was Marta. She was Jonas’s other half. And she wasn’t yet done. Only the future would reveal who she would now become.
&
nbsp; She smiled at him as they sat in the stolen car. They were free and brave. They were strong. They were lions who could not be tamed.
Chapter Eighteen
Several months had passed since Laila was allowed to see Peter for the first time in so many years. She still remembered the feeling when he came into the room. He was so handsome, so like his father, but with her slender build.
She was also grateful to see Agneta at last. They had always been close, but it had been necessary for them to part ways. And her sister had given her the greatest gift anyone could receive. She had taken her son under her wing and given him refuge and a family. He had been safe with them, at least during the years when Laila had kept everything secret.
Now she no longer needed to keep quiet. It was so liberating. It would take a while, but eventually her story would be told. The Girl’s story too. Right now she didn’t dare believe that Peter was safe, but the police were searching for the Girl, and presumably she was too smart to try to go anywhere near him.
Laila had wondered whether she would feel anything for her daughter, the child who in spite of everything was her own flesh and blood. But no, the Girl had been a stranger right from the beginning. She had not been part of Laila or Vladek. Not the way Peter was.
Maybe Laila would even be released from prison now, if she could convince the authorities that her story was true. She didn’t know whether she was hoping for that or not. She had spent such a large part of her life here, that it no longer made any difference. The most important thing was that she and Peter could resume contact again, and that he could come to visit her once in a while. Someday he might even bring along his wife and children. That was enough to make her life worth living.
A discreet knock on the door roused her from her happy thoughts.
‘Come in,’ she called, with a smile on her lips.
The door opened, and Tina came into the room. For a moment she didn’t say a word.
‘What is it?’ Laila finally asked.
Tina was holding something in her hand, and when Laila saw what it was, her smile faded.
‘There’s a postcard for you,’ said Tina.
Laila’s hand shook uncontrollably as she took the card. There was no message, and the address was stamped in blue ink. She turned the card over. A matador stabbing a bull.
For several seconds Laila was silent. Then she opened her mouth and screamed.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First, let me say that I am solely responsible for any errors or deliberate alterations of the facts. For the sake of the story, I’ve taken certain liberties by changing the location and chronology of various actual events.
As usual, whenever I write a book there are so many people I want to thank, and I’m always afraid that I might forget someone. But I’d like to name a few who deserve special thanks. Everyone at my Swedish publisher Forum has done a great job with The Ice Child. I’d especially like to thank Karin Linge Nordh, who has worked with me ever since my second book. She is always a steadfast supporter even when emotions sometimes run high, since we’re both such emotional people and are passionate about books and our work. Thank you, Karin, for being such a wonderful publisher and great friend. I also want to send a big thanks to Matilda Lund, who helped to make The Ice Child the book that it is. And thanks also to Sara Lindegren – you do such an awesome job marketing the books, but you also deserve a medal for bravery, or maybe you should have your head examined, because you’ve dared to entrust your child’s religious education to me.
And I would never manage to write any books at all if not for the help I receive in my daily life, from my mother Gunnel Läckberg, from ‘Mamma Stiina’ (Christina Melin), and from Sandra Wirström. Heartfelt thanks also to my three wonderful children Wille, Meja, and Charlie, who never hesitate to help out whenever their mother needs to write.
I also want to thank my amazing friends. I won’t mention any names because there are so many of you, and I don’t want to risk leaving anyone out. But you know who you are, and I am so grateful to all of you. And thank you to my agent Joakim Hansson and his colleagues at the Nordin Agency.
A big THANK YOU to Christina Saliba, who has not only been my supporter and a huge inspiration as a businesswoman, but who has become like a Lebanese sister to me. I especially want to thank you for making my fortieth birthday party so memorable. Thanks also to Maria Fabricius and the rest of the staff at MindMakers who have been working with me. You rock!
Last but definitely not least, I want to send special thanks to my beloved Simon. You came into my life when I was in the middle of writing this book, and you gave me faith, hope, and love. Thank you for supporting me in everything, and for your motto in life: ‘Happy wife, happy life.’ You make me happy.
Camilla Läckberg
Gamla Enskede
30 September 2014
If you enjoyed The Ice Child, try the previous book in Camilla Lackberg’s spine-tingling Fjällbacka series:
TRAGEDY RUNS IN THE FAMILY.
AND MURDER RUNS IN THE BLOOD.
Click here to buy your copy
About the author
Camilla Lackberg is a worldwide bestseller renowned for her brilliant contemporary psychological thrillers. Her novels have sold over 19 million copies in 55 countries with translations into 37 languages.
www.camillalackberg.com
Also by Camilla Lackberg
The Ice Princess
The Preacher
The Stonecutter
The Stranger (previously titled The Gallows Bird)
The Hidden Child
The Drowning
The Lost Boy
Buried Angels
Short stories
The Scent of Almonds & Other Stories
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
The Ice Child Page 39
