she always did when she drank wine: itwas her relaxed mode. There was a short clucking sound from the bottle, then streams of red poured into the glasses.
Susso tucked a greasy strand of hair behind her ear.
‘The woman I was with today might have seen something, I think,’ she said slowly. ‘The one in Vaikijaur. Edit, she’s called.’
Gudrun pulled at her top but said nothing.
‘It came sneaking into her garden. A little old man, or that’s what it looked like, about a metre tall. She said he had cat’s eyes.’
‘Cat’s eyes?’
‘You know. Horizontal pupils.’
‘That sounds strange …’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘But you believe her then? Has she got any evidence?’
‘Not evidence exactly, but she saw him in full daylight, at a distance of about two metres, maybe less. Through the window. That makes it an absolutely unique observation.’
Gudrun placed the tips of her thumbs and index fingers on the foot of the wine glass and turned it a half circle.
‘Did you set up the camera?’
Susso nodded.
‘So in a few weeks’ time I’ve got to borrow your car so I can drive up and collect it. I don’t want to ask Cecilia again, she gets so shitty about it. She lives to lend me her car and then make me pay her back somehow.’
Gudrun nodded.
They sat without speaking for a moment, and then Susso said:
‘I was thinking about something when I stopped in Porjus. There are cables there, running above the road, coming from the power station. And they kind of sing. Why do you think they do that? Does electricity sing?’
‘I wouldn’t have thought so.’
‘But think if it is because of all the electricity streaming through them, and the trolls felt it. I’ve heard they disappeared when electricity came to the countryside. They must have felt the current really strongly, everywhere, in every single wire. Do you think that could have been why?’
‘Susso …’
‘But don’t you think that sounds logical?’
Gudrun pushed up her sleeves and looked at the clock.
‘Are you working tomorrow?’
After he had replaced the receiver on the wall he remained standing in the unlit kitchen, hesitating. He had detected an undisguised tension in Börje’s voice and it made him uncertain. He regretted saying he would go in and look. Now he more or less had to.
He pulled on his boots and went out, but turned back immediately to get his torch, which was attached to the fridge door by a magnet. There was no lighting in Hybblet. There had been too much playing about with the switches.
The snow was biting cold against his neck and he stopped to zip his jacket all the way up to the top. As he walked across the yard he recognised a feeling of resistance.
The beam from his torch swept over the netting of the dog compound and met eyes suspended in a row. The dogs were uneasy, not surprisingly. The previous night had made them afraid.
Why had they never told him before what had happened in the dog pen? Why had no one told him they were capable of such meaningless cruelty? Börje and Ejvor had always assured him they were entirely safe. But if they could set on the dogs, where did they draw the line? Was there a line?
It is like some bloody frenzy.
That was all Börje would say when Seved asked him what had happened. He realised it was serious all right – more serious than Börje and Ejvor let on. Lennart had turned up no less than threetimes during the last month, and on one occasion he had been accompanied by a couple of people Seved had never seen before. A bearded man who had walked with a limp around the outside of the building and an older woman in a wheelchair. He had only seen her back. There was also a girl, pushing the wheelchair. Seved had not dared to ask who they were.
*
Now he had reached the veranda, and he stopped to listen before pulling down the door handle. It was so silent he could hear the snowflakes floating in and landing on the black sacks.
Because he knew the door was warped and difficult to open, he tugged it
Susso tucked a greasy strand of hair behind her ear.
‘The woman I was with today might have seen something, I think,’ she said slowly. ‘The one in Vaikijaur. Edit, she’s called.’
Gudrun pulled at her top but said nothing.
‘It came sneaking into her garden. A little old man, or that’s what it looked like, about a metre tall. She said he had cat’s eyes.’
‘Cat’s eyes?’
‘You know. Horizontal pupils.’
‘That sounds strange …’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘But you believe her then? Has she got any evidence?’
‘Not evidence exactly, but she saw him in full daylight, at a distance of about two metres, maybe less. Through the window. That makes it an absolutely unique observation.’
Gudrun placed the tips of her thumbs and index fingers on the foot of the wine glass and turned it a half circle.
‘Did you set up the camera?’
Susso nodded.
‘So in a few weeks’ time I’ve got to borrow your car so I can drive up and collect it. I don’t want to ask Cecilia again, she gets so shitty about it. She lives to lend me her car and then make me pay her back somehow.’
Gudrun nodded.
They sat without speaking for a moment, and then Susso said:
‘I was thinking about something when I stopped in Porjus. There are cables there, running above the road, coming from the power station. And they kind of sing. Why do you think they do that? Does electricity sing?’
‘I wouldn’t have thought so.’
‘But think if it is because of all the electricity streaming through them, and the trolls felt it. I’ve heard they disappeared when electricity came to the countryside. They must have felt the current really strongly, everywhere, in every single wire. Do you think that could have been why?’
‘Susso …’
‘But don’t you think that sounds logical?’
Gudrun pushed up her sleeves and looked at the clock.
‘Are you working tomorrow?’
After he had replaced the receiver on the wall he remained standing in the unlit kitchen, hesitating. He had detected an undisguised tension in Börje’s voice and it made him uncertain. He regretted saying he would go in and look. Now he more or less had to.
He pulled on his boots and went out, but turned back immediately to get his torch, which was attached to the fridge door by a magnet. There was no lighting in Hybblet. There had been too much playing about with the switches.
The snow was biting cold against his neck and he stopped to zip his jacket all the way up to the top. As he walked across the yard he recognised a feeling of resistance.
The beam from his torch swept over the netting of the dog compound and met eyes suspended in a row. The dogs were uneasy, not surprisingly. The previous night had made them afraid.
Why had they never told him before what had happened in the dog pen? Why had no one told him they were capable of such meaningless cruelty? Börje and Ejvor had always assured him they were entirely safe. But if they could set on the dogs, where did they draw the line? Was there a line?
It is like some bloody frenzy.
That was all Börje would say when Seved asked him what had happened. He realised it was serious all right – more serious than Börje and Ejvor let on. Lennart had turned up no less than threetimes during the last month, and on one occasion he had been accompanied by a couple of people Seved had never seen before. A bearded man who had walked with a limp around the outside of the building and an older woman in a wheelchair. He had only seen her back. There was also a girl, pushing the wheelchair. Seved had not dared to ask who they were.
*
Now he had reached the veranda, and he stopped to listen before pulling down the door handle. It was so silent he could hear the snowflakes floating in and landing on the black sacks.
Because he knew the door was warped and difficult to open, he tugged it
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