was Matte’s office. He didn’t come in yesterday, and he’s not there today either. And he didn’t call in sick.’ Gunnar seemed frozen in place as he held the phone in his hand.
‘And he didn’t pick up all weekend when I rang his number,’ said Signe.
‘I’ll drive over to his place and have a look.’
Gunnar was already on his way to the door, grabbing his jacket as he passed. So this is how Signe feels, he thought. Fear was darting around in his chest like a wild animal. This was how she must have felt all these years.
‘I’m going with you,’ Signe said firmly, and Gunnar knew better than to argue. He nodded briefly and then waited impatiently as she put on her coat.
They drove in silence all the way to Matte’s flat. Gunnar took the back roads, not the route through town. Instead he drove past the Seven Hills, the place where kids went sledding in the winter. Matte had done that too when he was a boy. Gunnar swallowed hard. There had to be a logical explanation. Maybe he was running a fever and hadn’t thought of calling in sick. Or maybe … He couldn’t think of anything else. Matte was always so conscientious about everything. He would have rung the office if he couldn’t make it to work.
Signe’s face was pale as she sat next to him in the passenger seat. She was staring straight ahead, gripping her handbag, which rested on her lap. Gunnar wondered why she was holding on to it so tightly, but he had the feeling that the handbag was her lifeline at the moment.
They parked in front of Matte’s building. Entrance B. Gunnar wanted to run, but for Signe’s sake he tried to act calmly and forced himself to walk at a normal pace.
‘Do you have the keys?’ asked Signe, who had gone striding ahead and already had the front door open.
‘Here.’ Gunnar held out the spare keys that Matte had given them.
‘I’m sure he’s home, so we won’t really need them. He’ll come to the door himself and then …’
He listened to Signe’s incoherent chatter as she ran up the stairs. Matte lived on the top floor, and they were both out of breath by the time they reached the door to his flat. Gunnar had to restrain himself from immediately putting the key in the lock.
‘Let’s ring the bell first. If he’s home, he’ll be cross if we go barging in. Maybe he has company and that’s why he hasn’t gone to work.’
Signe was already pressing the doorbell. They heard it ringing inside. She tried it again. And again. Then they listened for approaching footsteps, Matte’s footsteps coming to the door. But there was only silence.
‘I think you’d better use the key.’ Signe gave her husband an urgent look.
He nodded, stepped in front of her, and began fumbling with the key ring. He found the right key, turned it in the lock, and pushed down on the door handle. The door didn’t budge. In confusion he realized that the door had been open, and he had just locked it. He glanced at Signe. They could see the panic in each other’s eyes. Why would the door be left unlocked if Matte wasn’t home? And if he was home, why hadn’t he come to the door?
Gunnar turned the key again, and heard the click of the lock. With fingers that were now shaking uncontrollably, he pushed open the door.
The moment he looked inside the front hall, he realized that Signe had been right all along.
She was sick. More ill than she’d ever been in her life. The smell of vomit filled her nostrils. She couldn’t really remember, but she thought she’d thrown up in a bucket next to the mattress. She saw everything through a fog. Nathalie cautiously tried to move. Her whole body ached. She squinted. Her eyes hurt as she tried to see what time it was. What day was it? And where was Sam?
The thought of Sam gave her enough strength to sit up. She was lying on a mattress next to his bed. He was asleep. She was finally able to focus her eyes enough to read her watch. It was just after one. Which meant that Sam was taking an afternoon nap. She stroked his head.
Somehow she must have managed to look after him in spite of the fever. Her maternal instincts had proved sufficiently strong. Relief flooded over her, making the pain easier to bear. She looked around. A bottle of water lay on his bed, and scattered on the floor were pieces of fruit, a hunk of cheese, and a packet of biscuits. It looked as if she’d made sure he had food and water.
A bucket stood next to the mattress, and the smell coming from it was disgusting. She must have realized how ill she was and brought the bucket into the room. Her stomach felt empty, so she’d apparently thrown up everything she’d eaten.
Slowly she got to her feet. She didn’t want to wake Sam, so she stopped herself from groaning aloud. Finally she was able to stand though her legs were wobbly. It was important for her to have something to eat and drink. She wasn’t hungry, but her stomach was growling in protest. She picked up the bucket, careful not to look inside as she carried it out of the room. Using her shoulder to push open the front door, she shivered in surprise as she came out into the cold air. The summer heat must have disappeared while she was sick.
Cautiously she sat down on the dock and, averting her eyes, dumped the contents of the bucket into the sea. She picked up a rope and tied it to the handle. Then she lowered the bucket over the side of the dock and rinsed it out in the water.
The wind tore at her hair as she walked back to the house, arms hugging her chest. Her whole body was screaming from the effort, and she could feel the sweat pouring out of her. Disgusted, she peeled off all her clothes and washed up before putting on a clean T-shirt and a jogging suit. With trembling hands she made a sandwich, poured herself a glass of juice, and sat down at the kitchen table. It took several bites before the food began tasting of anything, but after that she quickly ate two more sandwiches. Gradually she could feel life returning to her body.
Nathalie glanced at her watch again, looking at the little window that showed the date. After doing some calculations in her head, she decided it had to be Tuesday. She’d been sick for almost three days. Three lost days, filled with all sorts of dreams. What exactly had she dreamed? She tried to grab hold of the images swirling through her mind. There was one that kept repeating. Nathalie shook her head but the movement made her stomach heave. She took a bite of a fourth sandwich, and her stomach settled down. A woman. There was a woman in her dreams, and there was something about her face. Nathalie frowned. There was something so familiar about that woman. She knew that she’d seen her before, but she couldn’t recall where.
She got up. No doubt she’d remember sooner or later. But a feeling from the dream refused to leave her. The woman had looked so sad. With the same feeling of sadness, Nathalie went into the bedroom to see to Sam.
Patrik hadn’t slept well. Erica’s concern for Anna had infected him, and he had awakened several times during the night with gloomy thoughts about how swiftly life could change. His own recent experience had made him lose his foothold a bit. Maybe it was good that he no longer took life for granted, but at the same time a nagging feeling of uneasiness had settled inside of him. He found himself behaving in a much more protective manner than he’d ever done before. He didn’t like seeing Erica drive off with the children in the car. To be quite honest, he would have preferred her not to drive at all. And he’d feel much more secure if she and the children never stepped outside the house again but remained indoors, far removed from any dangers.
Of course he understood that such thoughts were neither healthy nor rational. But he’d been so close to losing his own life as well as Erica and the twins.
