There is an entryphone by the gate, and Laura presses the button. No answer. She goes over everything one more time. Hedda’s relationship with Johnny Miller could easily be a red herring. There was nothing on Hedda’s noticeboard to suggest that Miller had anything to do with the situation.
She tries to recall Hedda’s expression when she found out that Laura was in love with Jack, but that he and Iben were together. Had she seemed relieved? She should have been, because if Laura is right, then she and Jack are cousins.
Did Jack know? Laura doesn’t think so – or at least, not who his father was. But what happens if Jack really is Hedda’s biological son? That means Gärdsnäset is his, which makes it impossible for her to sell the place without talking to him.
Is that really why she’s here? To find a cast-iron reason for starting to search for him in earnest? Or does she believe that Hedda’s forty-five-year love affair has something to do with her death? Good questions. Unfortunately, she isn’t anywhere near having the answers. Not yet.
A huge skein of geese flies over the lake, fifty or sixty birds in a perfect V-formation on their way to the sea. Their mournful cries echo across the water.
She presses the button again.
‘Hello?’ says a hoarse male voice.
‘Hi, I’m looking for Johnny Miller.’
‘What’s it about?’
‘My name is Laura Aulin. You knew my aunt – Hedda Aulin over at Gärdsnäset.’
Silence. For a moment Laura thinks the man has hung up, but then the gate slowly begins to open.
The two-storey white house is impressive. The tower at one end goes all the way from the ground to a considerable height above the roof.
Johnny Miller opens the door himself. He looks the same as before, with a big bushy beard and dark glasses.
‘Come on in.’
He shows her into a gigantic living room at the back. Down by the jetty she sees the boathouse. She thinks about the lamp that burns there every night, year after year. The lamp in Hedda’s painting.
‘Coffee?’
‘I’d prefer tea, if you don’t mind.’
He disappears, giving her the chance to explore. Gold and platinum discs are displayed on the walls, along with photographs and framed concert posters – Budokan, Whiskey a Go Go, Madison Square Garden. There are five different guitars, plus a grand piano. The room smells faintly of chesterfield furniture, along with something else that can’t be blown away by throwing the windows wide open, something she has been aware of in Hedda’s house and even in her own newly built apartment: loneliness.
Thanks to Wikipedia, she knows that Johnny Miller’s real name is John Mellgren. He was born in 1945, and his glory days were from the early Seventies until the late Eighties. He stepped back from life in the public eye in 1994. He has lived in Ireland and Cyprus for tax reasons, and Elsa’s mother Victoria was his only child, born to his second wife.
Johnny reappears with a tray, which he places on the coffee table. He moves some books and magazines out of the way.
‘Sorry about the mess – I don’t often get visitors.’
Laura sits down in an armchair and takes the cup of tea he offers her.
‘So, Laura Aulin, what do you want with me?’
He pours himself a coffee and sits down on the sofa opposite her.
‘The last time I saw you was in the churchyard at Hedda’s funeral,’ she begins. ‘The big wreath on the coffin – that was from you, wasn’t it?’
He adds sugar to his coffee, his expression neutral.
‘I’ve seen her old photos. You knew each other in the Sixties.’
He slowly sips his drink, showing no sign of joining in with the conversation. Laura decides on more drastic measures.
‘She hit you over the head with a bottle. I’m assuming you deserved it.’
His coffee goes down the wrong way and he starts coughing so violently that she almost leaps up to thump him on the back.
‘You’re definitely Hedda’s niece,’ he mutters when his colour has returned to normal. ‘You act like her and you look like her.’
He takes a tentative sip; his expression has softened slightly.
‘Hedda and I met at a party in Paris. I was used to getting any girl I wanted, which looking back was pretty arrogant of me. But Hedda put me in my place right away. I fell in love with her that same night.’ He smiles to himself. ‘We were together for about six months. She came on tour with me. I adored her; I was much more deeply in love with her than she was with me.’
‘Why did it end?’
He shrugs.
‘Too much partying. Booze, drugs. We were young and stupid. Especially me.’
‘And you forgot to tell her you were already married.’
He sighs heavily.
‘It was a drunken Vegas wedding with a girl I barely knew. It was over within a month, but neither of us had filed for divorce.’
‘So Hedda hit you over the head with a bottle.’
He nods. ‘She had a hell of a temper, your aunt. And we were both high and drunk. It wasn’t her fault.’
‘What happened next?’
‘Her brother showed up. Made sure she got the shortest possible sentence, then took her home to Sweden.’
‘That was my father. And what did you do?’
He pulls a face.
‘I kept a low profile. My manager thought it was for the best. I hid away in a recording studio in LA, but to be honest I didn’t get much done.’
‘You didn’t stay in touch?’
‘I wrote to her, but she didn’t reply, so in the end I came here to find her. She threw me out, said she never wanted to see me again.’
‘But you didn’t give up?’
He shakes his head.
‘I bought this plot and built the house, hoping she’d change her mind.’
‘She didn’t.’
Another shake of the head. The sorrow in his eyes is unmistakable.
‘So you remarried and had a daughter?’
‘Yes. I’m sure Peter’s told you about Victoria’s car accident.’
‘I’ve heard both his version and Elsa’s.’
‘Poor Peter. He worshipped Victoria, he still won’t say a word against her. But Elsa’s a smart kid.’ He gives a wry smile. ‘Maybe it’s a terrible thing to say about your own child, but Victoria was a very selfish person who always put her own needs first, even before Elsa’s. It was my fault – I gave her whatever she wanted. I thought that was how to be a good parent.’
‘Why did she marry Peter? Surely she had her choice of men – why go for a boy from the local village?’
‘He was stable, and he was good at his job. He was in the murder squad back then; I guess she thought it was exciting, like a TV crime show. But she soon grew tired of him. Wealth provides no protection against unhappiness, as I’m sure you know.’
He pauses, finishes off his coffee.
‘Did Hedda ever talk about me?’
‘Not that I can remember. We drifted apart after—’
‘The fire. Yes, Peter told me all about it. Such a tragedy. I know the Jensen girl’s father; I’ve donated money to the sports club over the years. He seems like a good guy. We both know what it’s like to lose a daughter.’
Laura takes a deep breath. She isn’t sure how far to go, but the sadness in Johnny’s eyes helps her to decide.
‘Hedda had a child shortly after she moved here. My father helped her to have it adopted, but when the boy was ten he came back. He grew up at Gärdsnäset, presumably without knowing that Hedda was his biological mother. After the fire he left, just like me.’
Johnny has gone pale.
‘The boy’s name was Jack,’ Laura went on. ‘And I’m pretty sure he’s your and Hedda’s love child.’