amused.
‘How old are you, then?’
‘Ten.’
He smiles and starts to take off his shirt.
‘Ten years old and on your own for a week. Just like Pippi Longstocking.’
She leans back and runs her fingers through her hair. Then she looks him right in the eyes.
‘So?’
To her disappointment, the man doesn’t seem at all taken aback. He doesn’t reply, and turns to look at his family instead.
The boy is on his way out into the water, and the woman follows him with her jeans rolled up to her knees.
‘Well done, Martin!’ he cries proudly.
Then he pulls off his shoes and begins to undo his trousers. Under his jeans he’s wearing a pair of tight swimming trunks with the pattern of the American flag. He’s tanned all over, and she thinks he’s handsome. Not like her dad, who’s got a pot belly and is always white as chalk.
He looks her up and down.
‘You seem like a girl who knows her own mind.’
She doesn’t reply, but for a moment she thinks she can see something she recognises. Something she doesn’t like.
‘Well, time for a swim,’ he says, and turns his back on her.
He goes down to the water and tests the temperature. Victoria stands up and gathers her things together.
‘See you another day, maybe,’ the man says, waving to her. ‘Bye!’
‘Bye,’ she replies, suddenly troubled by her solitude.
As she walks along the path leading through the forest towards the cottage, she tries to work out how long it will be before he comes to visit her.
He’ll probably come tomorrow, she thinks, and he’ll want to borrow the lawnmower.
Her sense of security is gone.
Gamla Enskede – Kihlberg House
STOCKHOLM IS AS faithless as an old whore. Since the thirteenth century she’s been lying there in the unquiet water, tempting with her islands and islets, with her innocent appearance. She is as beautiful as she is treacherous, and her history is coloured with bloodbaths, fires and expulsions.
And broken dreams.
As Jeanette walked to the metro station at Enskede gård that morning there was a chill mist in the air, almost like fog, and the lawns around the villas were wet with night dew.
Late spring in Sweden, she thought. Long, light nights and greenery, capricious lurches between heat and cold. She actually liked this time of year, but right now it made her feel lonely. There was a collective demand to make the most of this short period. Be happy, live your life, seize the day. Late spring in this city is hazardous, she thought.
It was the morning rush hour, and the train was almost full. There was reduced service because of signalling work, and a technical fault was causing further delays. She had to stand, squeezed into a corner by one of the doors.
Technical fault? She presumed that meant someone had jumped in front of a train.
She looked around.
An unusual amount of smiling. Presumably because most people were just a week or two away from their holiday.
She wondered how people at work thought of her. As a miserable cow sometimes, she assumed. Bossy. Domineering, maybe. Hot-tempered at times.
She wasn’t really any different from the other senior detectives. The work demanded a certain authority and decisiveness, and the responsibility meant that you sometimes asked too much of your subordinates. And cost you your sense of humour as well as your patience. Did the people she worked with actually like her?
Jens Hurtig liked her, she knew that. And Åhlund respected her. Schwarz did neither. The others were probably somewhere in between.
But there was one thing that bothered her.
Most of them called her Jan, and she was sure they all knew she didn’t like it.
That showed a lack of respect.
They could be split into two groups. Schwarz was at the forefront of the Jan team, followed by a long list of other officers. The Jeanette team consisted of Hurtig and Åhlund, but even they slipped up occasionally, along with a handful of other officers and recent recruits who had only ever
‘How old are you, then?’
‘Ten.’
He smiles and starts to take off his shirt.
‘Ten years old and on your own for a week. Just like Pippi Longstocking.’
She leans back and runs her fingers through her hair. Then she looks him right in the eyes.
‘So?’
To her disappointment, the man doesn’t seem at all taken aback. He doesn’t reply, and turns to look at his family instead.
The boy is on his way out into the water, and the woman follows him with her jeans rolled up to her knees.
‘Well done, Martin!’ he cries proudly.
Then he pulls off his shoes and begins to undo his trousers. Under his jeans he’s wearing a pair of tight swimming trunks with the pattern of the American flag. He’s tanned all over, and she thinks he’s handsome. Not like her dad, who’s got a pot belly and is always white as chalk.
He looks her up and down.
‘You seem like a girl who knows her own mind.’
She doesn’t reply, but for a moment she thinks she can see something she recognises. Something she doesn’t like.
‘Well, time for a swim,’ he says, and turns his back on her.
He goes down to the water and tests the temperature. Victoria stands up and gathers her things together.
‘See you another day, maybe,’ the man says, waving to her. ‘Bye!’
‘Bye,’ she replies, suddenly troubled by her solitude.
As she walks along the path leading through the forest towards the cottage, she tries to work out how long it will be before he comes to visit her.
He’ll probably come tomorrow, she thinks, and he’ll want to borrow the lawnmower.
Her sense of security is gone.
Gamla Enskede – Kihlberg House
STOCKHOLM IS AS faithless as an old whore. Since the thirteenth century she’s been lying there in the unquiet water, tempting with her islands and islets, with her innocent appearance. She is as beautiful as she is treacherous, and her history is coloured with bloodbaths, fires and expulsions.
And broken dreams.
As Jeanette walked to the metro station at Enskede gård that morning there was a chill mist in the air, almost like fog, and the lawns around the villas were wet with night dew.
Late spring in Sweden, she thought. Long, light nights and greenery, capricious lurches between heat and cold. She actually liked this time of year, but right now it made her feel lonely. There was a collective demand to make the most of this short period. Be happy, live your life, seize the day. Late spring in this city is hazardous, she thought.
It was the morning rush hour, and the train was almost full. There was reduced service because of signalling work, and a technical fault was causing further delays. She had to stand, squeezed into a corner by one of the doors.
Technical fault? She presumed that meant someone had jumped in front of a train.
She looked around.
An unusual amount of smiling. Presumably because most people were just a week or two away from their holiday.
She wondered how people at work thought of her. As a miserable cow sometimes, she assumed. Bossy. Domineering, maybe. Hot-tempered at times.
She wasn’t really any different from the other senior detectives. The work demanded a certain authority and decisiveness, and the responsibility meant that you sometimes asked too much of your subordinates. And cost you your sense of humour as well as your patience. Did the people she worked with actually like her?
Jens Hurtig liked her, she knew that. And Åhlund respected her. Schwarz did neither. The others were probably somewhere in between.
But there was one thing that bothered her.
Most of them called her Jan, and she was sure they all knew she didn’t like it.
That showed a lack of respect.
They could be split into two groups. Schwarz was at the forefront of the Jan team, followed by a long list of other officers. The Jeanette team consisted of Hurtig and Åhlund, but even they slipped up occasionally, along with a handful of other officers and recent recruits who had only ever
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