Camilla Lackberg Crime Thrillers 1-3: The Ice Princess, The Preacher, The Stonecutter
totally acceptable to hide such propensities under the guise of religion.
‘Captain Jansson wasn’t home often enough to see how badly the children were faring, even though he must have had his suspicions. But like most men he considered child-rearing to be women’s work, and he felt that he was fulfilling his fatherly duties by seeing to it that they had a roof over their heads and food on the table. Until he came home one day, and discovered that the youngest girl, Märta, had gone for a week with a broken arm. Then Hilda was given the boot and the captain, who was a man of action, searched among the unmarried women of the area for a suitable new foster mother for his children. He made a good choice. Within two months he had married a solid daughter of peasant stock, Lina Månsdotter, and she took the children to her heart as if they were her own. She and the captain also had seven more together, so it must have been awfully crowded here. If you look carefully you can see traces of those kids. Little nicks and dents and worn spots. All over the house.’
‘So how did your father come to buy the house?’
‘Over the years the Jansson siblings were scattered with the wind. Captain Jansson and his Lina, who had grown very fond of each other, passed away. The only one left in the house was the eldest son, Allan. He never married and when he grew old he couldn’t keep up the house by himself, so he decided to sell. Pappa had just married Mamma, and they were looking for a home. Pappa told us that he fell in love with the house on the spot. He didn’t hesitate for a second.
‘When Allan sold the house to Pappa, he also passed on the story to him. The history of the house and his own family. It was important to him, he said, that Pappa knew whose feet had worn the old wooden floors. He also left some documents behind. Letters that Captain Jansson had sent from every corner of the world, first to his wife Ida, then to Lina. He also left the horsewhip that Hilda had used to punish the children. It still hangs down in the cellar. Anna and I used to go down there and touch it sometimes when we were small. We had heard the story about Hilda, and we used to try to imagine how the rough straws of the whip would feel on our bare skin. We felt sorry for the little children who were treated so badly.’
Erica looked at Patrik. She went on, ‘Now you understand why my heart breaks at the thought of selling this house. If we sell this house we’ll never ever get it back again. It’s irrevocable. It makes me sick to think that some rich Stockholmer would stomp in here and start sanding the floors and put up new wallpaper with little shells on it, not to mention the panoramic window that would go up here in the veranda faster than I can say “tasteless”. Who would care about preserving the pencil marks that are left on the inside of the pantry doors, where Lina each year marked how tall the children had grown? Who would care about reading the letters in which Captain Jansson tried to describe how it looked in the South Seas for his two wives who had hardly been out of the parish? Their history would be erased and then this house would be only … a house. Any old house. Charming, but without a soul.’
She could hear that she was babbling, but for some reason it was important to her that Patrik understood. She looked at him. He was watching her intently and she flushed under his gaze. Something happened. An instant of absolute understanding, and before she knew what was happening Patrik was sitting next to her, and after a second of hesitation he pressed his lips to hers. At first she only sensed the taste of wine on both their lips, but then she sensed the taste of Patrik. She cautiously opened her mouth and felt the tip of his tongue seeking hers. Her whole body felt electric.
After a while it became unbearable, and Erica got up, took him by the hand, and without a word led him up to the bedroom. They lay down on the bed and kissed and caressed each other. After a while Patrik gave her a questioning look and then began unbuttoning the back of her dress. She gave her silent assent by starting to unbutton his shirt. She realized at once that the undergarments she’d chosen were not the ones she wanted to show to Patrik the first time. God only knew that the pantyhose she had on weren’t the world’s sexiest undergarment. The question was how she could get out of them and the support knickers without Patrik seeing them. Erica sat up abruptly.
‘Excuse me, I just have to go to the toilet.’
She rushed to the bathroom and looked around feverishly. She was in luck. There was a pile of clean wash in the laundry basket that she hadn’t had time to put away. She laboriously wriggled out of the tight pantyhose and put them and the old-lady knickers in the laundry basket. Then she pulled on a pair of thin white lace knickers that would go well with her bra. She pulled her dress down over her backside and carefully checked herself in the mirror. Her hair was dishevelled and curly and her eyes had a feverish look. Her mouth was redder than normal and slightly swollen from all the kissing. She actually looked rather sexy, she thought. Although without the support knickers her belly didn’t look as flat as she liked. She sucked it in and instead thrust out her bust as she went in to Patrik, who was still lying on the bed just as she had left him.
Their clothes began disappearing, with more and more of them landing in a pile on the floor. The first time wasn’t as fantastic as it always is in romance novels; it was more of a mixture of strong feelings and embarrassing awareness. At the same time that their bodies reacted explosively to each other’s touch, they were acutely aware of their nakedness, conscious of little imperfections, worried that embarrassing sounds might arise. They were clumsy and unsure of what the other person might like and dislike. Not sure enough of each other yet that they dared put their thoughts into words. Instead they used small guttural sounds to indicate what worked and what might need to be adjusted. But the second time it was better. The third time it was quite acceptable. The fourth time was very good and the fifth time was fantastic. They fell asleep, curved around each other like spoons. The last thing Erica noticed before she fell asleep was Patrik’s arm safely round her breast and his fingers laced in hers. She fell asleep with a smile on her lips.
Patrik’s head was splitting into bits. His mouth was so dry that his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, but at some time there must have been saliva in it, because against his cheek he felt a wet spot of drool on the pillow. It felt like someone was holding down his eyelids and fighting his attempts to open his eyes. After a couple of strenuous attempts he finally got them open.
He saw a vision before him. Erica was lying on her side, turned towards him, with her blonde hair curled around her face. She seemed to be dreaming, because her eyelashes were fluttering and her eyelids were twitching. Patrik thought he could lie here like this and look at her forever, without ever tiring of what he saw. His whole life if need be. Erica gave a start in her sleep but returned quickly to her steady breathing. It was true that this was like riding a bike. And by that he didn’t mean only the sex act, but also the feeling of loving a woman. During the dark, gloomy days and the nights he had thought it impossible that he would ever feel like this again. Now it felt impossible not to feel like this.
Erica stirred restlessly and he saw that she was about to resurface. She too struggled to get her eyelids open. But when she did, he was astonished all over again at how blue her eyes were.
‘Good morning, sleepyhead.’
‘Good morning.’
The smile that spread across her face made him feel like a millionaire.
‘Did you sleep well?’ Erica said.
Patrik looked at the alarm clock’s glowing numerals. ‘Yes, the two hours I slept were wonderful. Although the waking hours before that were probably even more wonderful.’
Erica merely smiled in reply.
Patrik suspected that his breath smelled like a viper’s, but he still couldn’t resist leaning forward and kissing her. The kiss became deeper and an hour raced by. Afterwards Erica lay on his left arm drawing circles with her finger on his chest. She looked up at him.
‘Did you think when you came over that we’d end up in bed?’
He thought about it a moment before he answered, and put his right hand behind his head while he was thinking.
‘No-o-o, I can’t say that I thought it would happen. But I hoped it would.’
‘Me too. Hoped, I mean, not thought.’
Patrik