Read Online The Scent of Almonds: A Novella by Camilla Läckberg - Free Book Online

to be inside with the dead man.
    ‘How did it go?’ asked Kerstin. Judging by her tone of voice, you’d have thought he’d skied all the way to the North Pole instead of simply fetching a roast from the freezer.
    ‘Fine,’ said Martin, gratefully putting down the ice-cold packet. He rubbed his hands to get the circulation moving and then reached for his coffee cup, which now felt pleasantly warm.
    ‘What do you think about this situation? Have you made any progress?’ asked Börje, nodding towards the cold-storage room.
    Martin felt his heart sink. He could only tell them the truth.
    ‘No, I can’t say that I have. No one saw anything. No one knows anything. And there seems to be no motive. Yet they’re constantly bickering, like a bunch of cats and dogs.’
    Börje chuckled. ‘I heard this was going to be your first encounter with them. That you were invited here to meet the family. What a hell of an introduction!’
    Kerstin jabbed her elbow into her husband’s side. ‘Börje, what a thing to say!’
    Martin laughed. ‘That’s okay. You’re absolutely right. It’s been hell!’
    All three laughed, and Martin felt the pressure in his chest ease.
    Hatred continued to pump through his body. He’d been forced to escape, otherwise the hatred would have taken over, conquered him, and made him do things that he would regret. Matte rhythmically clenched and unclenched his fists as he sat in his room with his back to the door. Only with the door closed and locked could he feel secure. He never felt safe unless he was alone. Other people represented a danger, a threat. They might be full of good intentions, or even love, but they were still basically dangerous and deceitful. The only person he’d ever felt safe with was his grandfather. In Ruben’s company, Matte had been able to relax and be himself. He could tell the old man all the thoughts that kept racing through his mind, moving every which way, constantly searching for cracks in the wall. Looking for somewhere to hide. Grandpa had understood. He’d never questioned him. Never yelled at him the way Pappa did, or cried the way Mamma did, or stared at him with that scornful expression that Lisette gave him. Grandpa had never taunted him as Bernard often did.
    The others didn’t know. They didn’t understand why he hated Bernard with all his heart. Matte had tried to restrain himself, tried to sweep his memories under the rug. Tried to behave properly. The way they wanted him to do. But his memories were impossible to escape. They surfaced as soon as he let down his guard. He and Bernard had attended the same school. They weren’t in the same class, but only a few years apart. And Bernard had tormented him the whole time. He’d taken the lead and the other pupils had followed his example, pummelling Matte with taunts and punches, laughing at him, ridiculing him. Always there. Always smiling. Always looking for new ways to hurt him. The situation improved as they got older. They hadn’t attended the same secondary school, and by that time Bernard had in any case grown tired of devising new outlets for his malicious energy. But the antagonism would reappear whenever they happened to meet. And that smile. Bernard had seen through Matte; he knew exactly which buttons to press in order to crush him.
    It was the only thing that Matte had never told Grandpa. He knew that on some level Ruben saw Bernard for the bully that he was, but not entirely. He still had hope that Bernard might change. And Matte hadn’t wanted to take that hope away. That was why he’d never said a word when Ruben talked about Bernard. He’d held his tongue when his grandfather said things like: ‘He’ll make something of himself one day. You’ll see. He just needs some time to play. But he’s a good person at heart.’ Matte could only look at Ruben in amazement and wonder, did he truly believe what he was saying? Didn’t he see past the mask? The evil sneering behind Bernard’s