by Cora Clark
Whispers of the Past
by Cora Clark
Copyright © 2019 by Cora Clark Books
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Chapter One
Arrival
I was just about to nod off to sleep when the cab driver spoke up.
“Visiting relatives?” he asked in a strong, Swedish accent., one I hadn’t heard in a long time.
I glanced out the window, not being very impressed with the grey skies and muddy roads. Not much different from England. “Kind of,” I said. “I used to live here once.”
“In Roseberg?” the cabby sounded surprised and peeked at me through the review mirror.
I smiled. “Yeah, moved when I turned fifteen.”
“I am a local as well, what’s your surname? Not many locals in Roseberg.”
I chuckled, I knew I would be asked that, I just didn’t expect it to be so soon before I had even gotten a chance to settle in. “Hanes.”
His eyebrows raised. “Robert’s daughter?”
I nodded. “Yeah, yeah I am.”
“Wow, welcome home! Do you plan to stay?”
I sighed and glanced back out the window, noticing we had turned off the main road and now moved onto gravel. It couldn’t be far. “I don’t know yet.”
“The weather is not the best this time a year, but you are from England, you know all about it.”
I smiled. “I do know all about rain and grey skies.”
The cabby turned around a corner, and my family home came into view. It was just as I remembered it, perched on the plain in front of the steep mountain, so old that it was surprising how it was still standing. I could imagine a warm ribbon of smoke rising from the old chimney.
To the left of the house, I saw the lake, and the smile faded from my face. Was I ready for this? Was it going to be hard? I didn’t know.
“Here we are!” the cabby said and got the EFTPOS machine ready.
“Thank you.” I handed him my card and paid the fare. He helped me get my bags out of the trunk and then waved me off.
“I hope you enjoy your stay!” he said with a big smile on his face.
I watched as he drove off, and then shivered as an icy cold wind grabbed me, threatening to knock me over. I grabbed the bags and fished out the key from my pocket. It was an old key, rusty and stained. I prayed it would still work.
Click. The door slowly swung open. I breathed a sigh of relief and pushed through with the bags. It was dark and smelled of old wood and dust. I felt for the light switch and watched as the living room came into clear view. The couches were covered in plastic sheets, and the wooden coffee table looked grey, covered in dust.
“Okay, here we go,” I muttered to myself as I walked further inside, entering the kitchen. I turned on the lights and got met by the same layers of dust on all the wooden countertops. I walked through it and struggled to pull the bags up the staircase, leading to the bedrooms. I huffed as I placed them on the floor, pushing my old bedroom door open.
It was just like I had left it. I felt a strange, warm sensation pulse through me as I glanced at the double bed, then over to the dark, wooden desk where a carboard box stood. I tried to remember what could be inside. Photos, books, stuff I didn’t want to bring to England.
I dragged the suitcase inside and placed it on the bed. I would need to do some cleaning. Sighing, and feeling the energy drain out of me from the long trip, I rubbed my forehead. I could see my own breath. Fire, I needed to heat up the place first.
I got back downstairs and opened a cupboard next to the open fireplace. I had never been so happy to see firewood before. I grabbed a couple, placed them inside, and then moved to the pile of old newspapers. I lit the fire using an old lighter, which to my surprise still worked.
I sat down before it and warmed my hands and feet. Once I felt human again, and not shivering against the cold, I got up and grabbed cleaning supplies from under the sink in the kitchen. Dusting and vacuuming the house, I watched it slowly come back to life. I could almost hear the TV playing the soap operas I used to watch as a teenager. That reminded me, I needed some noise. It was too quiet.
I turned on the old CD player in the kitchen and adjusted the radio signal until I could hear the top one hundred songs of 2019 play, filling the house with familiar singing-voices.
I hummed to the songs as I finished cleaning the obvious mess around the place. I removed the plastic sheets off the couches, and then went upstairs, grabbing some fresh covers and sheets from my suitcase, and made my bed.
I walked over to the carboard box and opened it. I was right. Books, photos, and other random stuff I hadn’t wanted to bring with me. Mum must have packed it before she left to live with her friend in Sundsvall, a good five-hour drive south from Roseberg.
I picked up the photos but shivered as I turned them over. I wasn’t ready for photos just yet. I put them back in the box, then put the box on the floor so I could dust the desk.
Behind the desk, a little to the left, was a window, looking out over the lake. I took a slow step to the side and glanced out. I watched the wind create ripples in the dark water, moving west. I saw two other houses placed on either side of the lake, up on the hill. I wondered if they still lived there, or if it had been sold.
My heartbeat quickened, and I felt my hands sweat. I probably wasn’t ready to return to Roseberg, but I also didn’t think I would ever be. Besides, nobody forced me to come back, I decided I wanted to try fitting the missing pieces of my life back together.
This was it. I wasn’t going back to London anytime soon.
As darkness fell over the threatening lake outside the kitchen window, I opened a bottle of cold wine and poured it into a glass. The music still played, and the house was now warm and welcoming. I walked into the living room and placed the glass on the table.
“Now, how do I work this out?” I said as I eyed the cables going to and from the TV. Mum must have taken the DVD player, as there was no sign of it around.
After some fumbling with the cables, I realised only one was for the actual TV. I removed the rest and plugged it in. Static. I sighed and dropped onto the soft couch as I fiddled with the remote, trying to find any working channels.
I was just about to give up when there was a knock on the door. I jumped, not expecting company. Taking a breath to calm my speeding heart, I walked up and opened the door.
“Mikael!” I said with a smile on my face.
“Octavia, you made it!” he said back.
“Come in.” I stepped aside and let him through. I hadn’t seen my uncle in over ten years, but he looked all the same with his short, blonde hair and icy blue eyes. He ducked as he walked through the doorway.
“Nice and warm in here,” he said, and I detected an accent.
I eyed the fireplace. “Yeah, it was freezing when I first got here.”
“I am glad the key worked, I was expecting to see you earlier, asking for a spare.” He sat down on the couch and picked up the remote.
“I was trying to get the TV to work, but I am not very technical.” I sat down on the other couch and watched as he pressed some buttons.
“Why did you come back here, Octavia?” he asked without turning his gaze to me.
I sighed. “I really don’t know. When Mum passed last year, I thought I would just sell the place. But something made me want to come back first.”
Sound escaped fr
om the TV, and a man appeared on the screen, speaking Swedish. Mikael put the remote on the table. “I must say I was surprised when you called. Never thought I would see you here again.”
I took a sip of my wine, and then realised how rude I was. “I am so sorry, do you want a glass of wine?” I asked as I rose from the couch.
Mikael waved a hand in the air. “Oh no, I’m good thank you.”
I smiled and sat back down. “You must like it here though, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “It’s all I know. I am not much for change.”
I nodded and took another sip, watching the Swedish news.
“Do you know any Swedish?” he asked.
I scoffed. “Not really. I can’t remember much. But I think I will be able to get around, most Swedes speak English, anyway.”
He nodded. “Yeah, true. Well, I was just coming by to see how you were settling in.” He rose from the couch and walked to the door.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?” I asked. “I bought some hotdogs.”
He smiled. “No thank you, I have places to be.”
I nodded. “Fair enough. But just before you go, do you know if anyone I know still lives here?”
He blew out a breath. “Anyone you know? I am not sure. There’s Hayden…”
My eyes widened. “Hayden? Really?”
He nodded towards the lake. “He still lives on the other side.”
I couldn’t believe it. “Wow, well, I guess I should pay him a visit.”
“You should. Anyway. It was nice seeing you again, Octavia.”
I saw him out and watched as he drove off. Before closing the door, shutting out the cold, I eyed the hill on the other side of the lake, seeing a light flickering in one of the windows of the house.
“I’ll be damned,” I muttered to myself. “Hayden.”
Chapter Two
An Old Friend
Sleep came surprisingly easy. Maybe it was the wine. I got up to the sound of birds and a faint ray of sunshine seeping through the blinds. I put on a fresh pot of filtered coffee and waited. The sound of it dripping slowly into the pot caused my senses to wake. The smell of freshly brewed coffee made me think of the many mornings I greeted Mum in the kitchen before heading to school.
Although all my memories of living in the house were faint, even the ones after the accident, certain things stuck with me. Small things, like the smell off coffee mixed with the sound of wood breaking inside the open fire.
I poured myself a cup and sat at the kitchen table. I eyed the lake, which now seemed calm. No wind. I turned on the radio and remembered what Mikael had said. Hayden. I looked up to his house and felt a smile pinch my cheeks.
Hayden was also a faint memory, unfortunately, but at least he was one of the very few people I knew I had been close with. We had been friends since before we could even walk. After the accident, I withdrew from him, as I couldn’t remember his face at all. But he wouldn’t give up on me and kept coming over to see me. He had been my rock during my years of recovery before I packed my things and moved to my grandmother in England.
I looked at my own reflection inside the cup of black coffee and wondered, did I even say goodbye before I left?
I got dressed and put on a tiny bit of makeup before I headed outside. Although the wind wasn’t as strong as the day before, the air was still biting into my skin like a thousand needles. I covered my head inside the fluffy hood of my coat and started walking. I knew my way there, although I couldn’t at all remember what the inside of his house looked like.
As I moved up the steep hill to the driveway, I got nervous. What if he was angry with me for leaving? What if he didn’t want to see me at all?
I took a breath before bravely stepping up to the wooden door. I knocked, feeling my heart race inside my chest.
Footsteps sounded from the inside, and I took a small step back as the lock clicked.
A man, a little taller than myself, with brown, thick hair and auburn eyes looked at me. At first, he seemed confused, until recognition hit him like a punch to the gut. Small cheek dimples formed on each side of his clean-shaven, smooth-looking face.
“Octavia?” he asked.
I couldn’t help but giggle. “Hayden!”
His hands flew to his face, his eyes widening. “What? I can’t believe it’s you!”
I felt my cheeks burn. “I had no idea you still lived here!”
He stepped aside, letting me walk inside. “Come in! God, I can’t believe you are here!”
My boots stepped on parquet floors. I removed my hood and quickly scanned the house from where I was standing. Modern, big windows, white and black furniture. I turned to meet his gaze as he closed the door behind me.
“Lovely house,” I said.
He shrugged. “You have been here before.”
I smiled. “I know, I just… you know.”
He smiled. “I know, sorry, come in, I’ll make some coffee.”
I followed him into the kitchen and sat down on a chair. A big floor-to-ceiling window delivered a beautiful view of the lake below, and my house. It looked so small from up there, almost like a kid’s cubby house.
“Are you here for a visit?” he asked, and I averted my gaze to him as he waited for the coffee to brew.
“Oh, no, not really. I just… I came to live in the house for a bit.”
“Really? What made you want to come back?”
I shrugged. “I am not sure.”
“Did you miss Sweden?”
I smiled. “Maybe. Mum passed away, and she asked me to take care of the house. I was going to sell it, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it just yet.”
Hayden grabbed a couple of ceramic mugs out of the cupboard. “I am sorry to hear that. I know she moved, but not that she passed.”
I watched him pour coffee into the mugs. “Last year. How are your parents?”
“They both live in Sundsvall as well. I don’t know why people move there, I like it here.”
“Do you work in Roseberg? Can’t be much going on in a small town like this?”
He placed a mug in front of me, then sat down himself. “I am a developer, for apps. I work from home.”
I smiled and took a sip. “That’s great. I work remotely as well, which is how I can come to Sweden.”
“What do you do?”
“I am an editor, book editor.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really? That sounds great!”
I smiled. I remembered his face now, and parts of his home. I spent a lot of time with him during the year before I moved to England. We would sit outside, looking over the lake, and talk about school together until I had to go home for bed. I remembered the softness of his voice, the way he made me feel.
“It has been so long…” I said.
He nodded. “Nearly fifteen years… to be exact.”
“When I heard you still lived here… I couldn’t believe it.”
“Who told you that?” He frowned.
“Oh, Mikael, my uncle.”
“Oh! Yeah of course. I see him at the grocery store sometimes. Nice bloke.”
“Your English is still very good,” I teased.
“I have been doing some English tutoring on the side, all online, of course, but it has helped.”
I looked down my lap. “I know a lot more Swedish than I think, I just need time to let it come to the surface.”
He leaned forward on the table, locking eyes with me. “Of course you do.”
I suddenly felt really warm. I removed my coat and hung it on the back of my chair. “Do you have central heating here?”
He laughed. “Yeah! Are you still using the chimney?”
“Of course I am, Mum never bothered to get any heating systems in place. I am lucky to still have a TV!”
He looked out the window. “I see the house there every day, and I often thought of you. Wondered how you were.”
I bit my lip. “Did I say goodbye when I left?”
&nb
sp; “Yes. You did. It was brief, but I could tell it was because you didn’t want to get emotional.”
I nodded, that sounded like me. “I should have kept in contact…”
“No,” Hayden said and placed a hand on my wrist. “I understand why you left like you did. You had been through a lot. I was only reminding you of it all.”
I felt my heart speed up in my chest as his skin touched mine. A strange, eerie feeling crept up my spine. “But you also helped me. I don’t know if I would have been able to pull through without your support.”
He smiled and removed his hand. “I am glad to hear that. All I ever wanted was for you to get back to normal.”
I suddenly felt uncomfortable. Too many memories hitting me at once. My gaze flickered around the room, searching for something to say. I noticed he had no photos around.
“You live here… alone?” I asked, putting on a smile.
“Yeah, just me and nature.”
“Does it ever get…”
He smiled. “Lonely?”
“Yeah?”
“No, I guess I am a bit of a loner. I like peace and quiet.”
I nodded. “I am not used to it yet. I lived in London.”
“Wow, yeah, this must be a big change for you.”
“Yeah, it is. But it is beautiful out here.”
“Have you been in contact with anyone else?”
I shook my head. “No, no one. I got Mikael’s number off Mum’s phone, but I hadn’t seen him either.”
“Do you… remember anyone?”
I glanced up to the ceiling, thinking. “I remember Markus, the guy at the grocery store, and a few people from school. Johanna, my teacher, and uncle John.”
Hayden laughed. “Uncle John? Yeah, I remember that now, he used to come over to see your dad, didn’t he? I think he passed though.”
My stomach churned at the mention of my dad, but I kept my cool. “Yeah. I remember he was part of a chess club. All gentlemen.”
“Yeah, my old man was part of that too.”
A memory of John popped into my mind. I was fourteen, sitting on our couch when he knocked on the door. Mum had slipped out of the house to talk to him, and I lowered the volume on the TV. I heard them talk about Dad, about how he owed the club money. That was the last memory I had of him before I left one year later. Mum never liked him, I knew that much.
