Sofie sighed and headed for the front door.
‘All right, all right, I’m coming!’ She tore open the door but was a bit shocked to see two strangers in police uniform standing there.
‘Hello?’
‘Are you Sofie?’
‘Yes, what is it?’ Sofie feverishly searched her memory for what she might have done to bring the police to her door. She couldn’t imagine what it could have been. Okay, she might have smuggled a couple of alcopops into the last school dance, and she had probably ridden on the back of Olle’s souped-up moped a few times, but she found it hard to believe that the police would care about such trivial offences.
‘Is your father at home?’ asked the older officer.
‘Yeah,’ said Sofie, and now her thoughts were really running wild. What could Pappa have done?
‘We’d like to talk with both of you, together,’ said the red-haired, slightly younger officer. Sofie couldn’t help reflecting that he wasn’t bad-looking. Neither was the other one, for that matter. But he was so old. He must be thirty-five at least.
‘Come in.’ She stepped aside and let them into the hall. As they were taking off their shoes she went through to the living room. Sure enough, Pappa was sitting there with the enormous headphones clamped to his ears. No doubt he was listening to something horrible by Wizex or the Vikings or Thorleifs. She gesticulated to him to take off the earphones. He just lifted them and gave her a quizzical look.
‘Pappa, there are some cops here who want to talk to us.’
‘Police? What? Who?’ Sofie could see his mind whirling as he tried to work out what she could have got herself into to make the police want to pay a visit. She anticipated him. ‘I didn’t do anything. Honest. I promise.’
He gave her a suspicious glance but took off the headphones, got up, and went out to find out what was going on. Sofie followed at his heels.
‘What’s this about?’ asked Ola Kaspersen, looking a bit afraid of hearing an unwanted reply to that question. His intonation revealed his Norwegian origins, but it was so slight that Patrik guessed it had been many years since he’d left the land of his birth.
‘Could we go in and sit down? My name is Patrik Hedström, by the way, and this is my colleague Martin Molin.’
‘Of course. By all means,’ said Ola, shaking their hands. He still sounded puzzled. ‘Yes, come with me.’ He showed Martin and Patrik into the kitchen, as nine people out of ten would have done. For some reason the kitchen always seemed to be the safest place when the police came to call.
‘So, how can we help you?’ Ola was sitting next to Sofie, while the two police officers took seats facing them. Ola at once began straightening the fringe of the tablecloth. Sofie gave him an annoyed glance. Couldn’t he stop his damn fidgeting even now?
‘We …’ The one who’d introduced himself as Patrik Hedström sounded hesitant, and Sofie began to get a strange feeling in her stomach. She had an urge to cover her ears and hum, the way she did when she was little and Mamma and Pappa were arguing, but she knew that she couldn’t do that. She wasn’t little anymore.
‘I’m afraid we have bad news. Marit Kaspersen was killed in a traffic accident last night. We’re very sorry.’ Hedström cleared his throat again but didn’t look away. The sinking feeling in Sofie’s stomach got worse, and she fought to avoid taking in what she’d just heard. It couldn’t be true! There must be some mistake. Mamma couldn’t be dead. It just wasn’t possible. They were supposed to go shopping in Uddevalla next weekend. They’d made a date. Just the two of them. One of those mother-daughter things that Mamma had been nagging her about for ages, and which Sofie always pretended to dislike but actually enjoyed. Imagine that Mamma had never known that. That she looked forward to their shopping trips together. Sofie’s head was spinning, and next to her she heard her father gasping for air.
‘This must be a mistake.’ Ola’s words were like an echo of Sofie’s thoughts. ‘Marit can’t be dead!’ He was panting as though he’d been running.
‘Unfortunately there’s no doubt about it.’ Patrik paused, then said, ‘I … I identified her myself. I recognized her from the shop.’
‘But, but …’ Ola searched for words, but they seemed to escape him. Sofie regarded him with surprise. For as long as she could remember, her parents had been at each other’s throats. She never would have imagined that there was some part of her father that still cared.
‘What … what happened?’ Ola stammered.
‘A single-car accident, just north of Sannäs.’
‘Single-car accident? What do you mean?’ said Sofie. Her hands were clutching the edge of the table as though that was the only thing anchoring her to reality. ‘Did she swerve to miss a deer, or something? Mamma only drove a car about twice a year. Why was she out driving last night?’ She looked at the officers sitting across from her and felt her heart pounding. It was clear from the way they looked down at the table that there was something they weren’t telling. What could it be? She waited quietly for an answer.
‘We think that there was alcohol involved. She could have been driving under the influence. But we don’t know for sure; the results of the investigation will tell us more.’ Hedström looked straight at Sofie. She couldn’t believe her ears. She looked at her father and then back at Patrik.
‘Are you kidding me? There has to be some mistake. Mamma never drank. Not a drop. I’ve never even seen her have a glass of wine. She was totally against alcohol. Tell them!’ Sofie felt a wild hope surge inside her. It couldn’t be Mamma! She gave her father a hopeful look. He cleared his throat.
‘Yes, that’s true. Marit never drank. Not in all the time we were married, and as far as I know, not afterwards either.’
Sofie sought out his eyes to ascertain that he now felt the same hope that she did, but he avoided looking at her. He said what she knew he had to say, what in her eyes confirmed that the whole thing must be a mistake, and yet something felt … wrong. Then she shook off that feeling and turned to Patrik and Martin.
‘You hear that? You must have made a mistake. It couldn’t be Mamma! Did you check with Kerstin? Is she at home?’
The officers exchanged glances. It was the red-haired one who now spoke. ‘We’ve been to see Kerstin. She and Marit apparently had some sort of argument last night. Your mother stormed out and took the keys to the car. No one has seen Marit since then. And …’ Martin looked at his colleague.
‘And I’m quite sure that it’s Marit,’ Patrik said. ‘I’ve seen her at the shop, and I recognized her straight away. However, we don’t know for certain whether she had drunk anything. We got that impression only because we smelled alcohol on the driver’s seat. But we’re not sure. So it’s possible that there’s some other explanation. But there’s no doubt that it was your mother. I’m very sorry.’
The unpleasant feeling in Sofie’s stomach came back. It grew and grew until it made gall rise up in her throat. Now the tears came too. She felt her father’s hand on her shoulder but shook it off. All those years of quarrelling lay between them. All the arguments, both before and after her parents’ divorce, all the bullshit, all the backbiting, all the hate. All that now solidified into a single hard knot in the midst of the grief. She couldn’t bring herself to listen anymore. With three pair of eyes watching, she ran out the door.
Outside the kitchen window Erica heard two happy voices. Scattered laughter was muffled by the front door until it was opened and the sound spread through the house. Erica couldn’t believe her eyes. Anna was smiling, not in a forced or dutiful way as she did in front of the children in an attempt to calm them, but with a genuine smile that went from ear to ear. She and Dan were talking to each other in high spirits, and their cheeks were rosy from a brisk walk in the lovely springtime weather.
‘Hi, did you have