‘Hedda would have hated the idea!’ Elsa snaps. ‘She loved the lake, she wanted as many people as possible to be able to enjoy it. You’re only thinking of the money!’
Laura’s about to explain that Hedda was also considering selling to the castle, but Peter gets in first.
‘That’s enough, Elsa!’ he shouts. ‘Apologise to Laura immediately!’
Elsa lifts her chin defiantly, struggling to hold back the tears.
‘Fuck you!’
She turns and runs out of the room, leaving the brochure open on the table. Pictures of row upon row of houses made of concrete, steel and glass, each with a private jetty where enormous yachts are moored.
VINTERSJÖ PARK, says the heading across the double-page spread. A PLACE WHERE ONLY THE BEST IS GOOD ENOUGH.
The evening never really recovers after that. Laura and Peter have coffee and a brandy and try to talk about something else, but Elsa’s anger lingers in the air between them. After about half an hour Laura texts Heinz and asks him to come and pick her up.
Peter walks her to the door. He hands her the brochure with an apologetic smile.
‘Elsa means well, but she’s young. She thinks everything is black and white.’
‘Like we did?’
He takes a deep breath.
‘Sometimes I wish I could go back in time. Experience it all again. The summers out at Gärdsnäset, you and me, Hedda, George, Jack, Iben, Tomas. The holidaymakers, the dances. All that happiness we had before—’
He breaks off.
‘Before it was taken away from us,’ Laura says before she can stop herself. They stand in silence for a few seconds, until the beam of Heinz Norell’s headlights sweeps across the front door.
‘Don’t sign right away, Laura,’ Peter says. ‘Give it a day or two.’
He holds her gaze, refuses to let her go until she gives him a nod of agreement.
Heinz makes more polite conversation on the way back, continuing to prove that he is both pleasant and intelligent.
‘Which part of Germany did you say you were from?’ Laura asks as they turn into the avenue leading to the castle.
‘I’ve lived all over the place, but I was born and raised in Hamburg.’
The name rings a bell, but before she has time to marshal her thoughts, they have reached the main entrance.
‘By the way, Erica wonders if you’d join her for a nightcap up in the library.’
That’s the last thing Laura wants. She’s tired and a little tipsy, but she realises she doesn’t have a choice. Heinz holds the door open for her.
‘I hope to see you tomorrow.’
The library is situated in one of the towers and has a fantastic view. The moon is shining on the ice, shimmering in the black eye in the middle of the lake. There are bookshelves from floor to ceiling, with a couple of ladders that run along tracks to access the higher shelves.
The lighting is subdued; there is a candelabra with ten flickering candles in one window. The fire in one corner is burning so brightly that someone must have put on more logs very recently. There is a clear crack running down the chimney breast above the mantelpiece.
The risk assessment part of her brain that has been quiet for several days springs to life, weighing up the combination of an open fire, a cracked chimney breast and tons of old, bone-dry paper over and over again until her palms begin to sweat.
Erica von Thurn is sitting in a wing-back armchair by the window. She gets to her feet as Laura comes in.
‘Laura – how kind of you to keep me company.’ She pours a glass of red wine from the carafe on the table and hands it to Laura. ‘Come and sit down.’ She points to the armchair closest to the fire. Laura hesitates, then sits down. The heat is nice, yet alarming.
‘Did you have a pleasant evening with your . . . friend?’
The dim lighting and the flickering flames create shadows that make it difficult to read Erica’s expression.
Laura takes a sip of her wine. ‘I did.’
‘I wanted to apologise for earlier,’ Erica says. ‘My curiosity got the upper hand – obviously I had no right to bring up that . . . tragedy from your past. I really do hope you can forgive me.’
‘Of course.’
One of the logs gives a loud crack and Laura jumps. A drop of sweat trickles down the back of her neck and continues its way along her scar. The shadows from the fire play with the perfect proportions of Erica’s face.
‘Stephanie tells me you like to swim.’
Laura nods. The red wine seems to have reached her brain.
‘We have a pool house, recently completed. You’re welcome to use it tomorrow if you like.’
‘Thank you.’ Laura realises that something more is expected of her. ‘And thank you for letting me stay here.’
Erica waves her hand.
‘It’s a pleasure. Stephanie’s friends are our friends, and besides – we’re neighbours.’
She raises her glass and Laura mirrors the gesture. Her head suddenly feels too heavy for her shoulders.
‘Vintersjöholm is the apple of Pontus’s eye,’ she hears Erica continue. ‘He loves the castle. Personally, I prefer the lake.’
Erica waves her glass in the direction of the window. ‘This area really does have a fascinating history. You know the castle burned down? Several times, actually.’
Laura nods, she can’t stop glancing at the open fire.
‘Gärdsnäset is a wonderful place,’ Erica goes on quietly. ‘It must have been amazing to grow up there.’
Laura’s head is getting heavier and heavier, while the sweat-snakes on her back are multiplying.
Erica leans closer, her face distorted by the shadows. It looks like a mask.
‘We’re having a little party here the day after tomorrow. Pontus and I would be delighted if you’d join us.’ Her teeth are chalk-white, perfect porcelain veneers. ‘You’re welcome to invite your friend, if you like.’
Laura nods. Her mouth is as dry as dust, her eyes dart between the dancing flames and Erica’s face. She’s seen all this before, she’s sure of it.
Or maybe it was a dream. Erica’s voice drifts away.
‘. . . a party to celebrate Lucia.’
The word makes Laura give a start. Is it the tenth already?
How has the time passed so quickly? She takes another sip of her wine, notices that the glass has magically emptied.
Erica quickly tops it up. ‘Listen, I know we’re not supposed to be discussing business.’
Her face reminds Laura of the nymph in her nightmares.
‘I just want you to know that Pontus and I are prepared to increase our offer on Gärdsnäset. Have you had time to look at the brochure, by the way?’
She produces yet another brochure, identical to the one Elsa slammed down on the coffee table just over an hour ago.
‘If you like,’ Erica continues eagerly, ‘and this is just an idea – but if you like, we could reserve a house for you. Here, in the best position.’
She points to a plan of the proposed development, but Laura can’t take her eyes off the fire. The flames are so high now that they are reaching into the room, eagerly seeking out the bookshelves. The crack in the chimney breast has widened, it’s getting bigger by the second. Sweat is pouring down her back, irritating and scalding her scar.
She can see the closest books beginning to curl and smoke in the heat, she can smell burning paper. The first book catches fire with a puff, and is immediately followed by several more.
The flames lick the shelves, consuming more and more books and racing towards the ceiling.
Erica’s voice echoes through the room, but Laura can’t hear what she’s saying because the fire is roaring now. The crack opens wide, lets out a stream of liquid fire that flows across the floor. She wants to stand up, scream, run for the door, but instead she sits there as if she’s turned to stone while Erica goes on talking, apparently oblivious to the danger.