“She will.”
“No, I don’t think we should get our hopes-”
“She will,” said Livia more loudly. “Mommy will come back then.”
Then she pulled the coverlet up to her nose and refused to talk anymore.
Livia had developed a new sleep pattern-Joakim had discovered this after just a couple of weeks at Eel Point. She would sleep peacefully for two nights, but on the third she would become restless and start calling out for him.
“Daddy?”
It would usually start an hour or so after midnight, and however deeply Joakim was sleeping, he was instantly wide awake.
Livia’s cries also woke the cat, Rasputin. He would jump up onto a windowsill and stare out into the darkness, as if he could see something moving between the buildings.
“Da-dee?”
At least there was some progress, thought Joakim as he went toward his daughter’s room. She no longer called out for Katrine.
This Thursday night he sat down on the edge of Livia’s bed and stroked her back. She didn’t wake up, just turned to face the wall and slowly relaxed again.
Joakim stayed where he was, waiting for her to start talking. After a couple of minutes she began, in a calm and slightly monotonous voice.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?” he answered quietly. “Can you see anyone, Livia?”
She was still lying with her back to him.
“Mommy,” she said.
He was prepared now. But he was still unsure if she was really asleep, or simply in some kind of half-awake trance-and he was just as unsure if this conversation was really any good for her. Or for him.
“Where is she?” he asked. “Where’s Mommy?”
Joakim watched her lift her right hand from the coverlet and wave it feebly. He turned his head, but of course saw nothing in the shadows.
He looked down at his daughter again.
“Can Katrine… does Mommy want to say anything to me?”
No reply. When he asked longer questions, there was hardly ever a reply.
“Where is she?” he asked again. “Where’s Mommy, Livia?”
Still no reply.
Joakim thought for a moment, then asked slowly, “What was Mommy doing on the jetty? Why did she go down to the sea?”
“She wanted to… find out.”
“Find out what?”
“The truth.”
“The truth? Who from?”
Livia was silent.
“Where’s Mommy now?” he asked.
“Close.”
“Has she… is she in the house?”
Livia didn’t respond. Joakim could feel that Katrine was not in the house. She was staying away.
“Can you talk to her now?” he asked. “Is she listening?”
“She’s watching.”
“Can she see us?”
“Maybe.”
Joakim held his breath. He searched for the right questions.
“What can you see now, Livia?”
“There’s someone on the shore… by the lighthouses.”
“That must be Mommy. Has she-”
“No,” said Livia. “Ethel.”
“What?”
“It’s Ethel.”
Joakim went completely cold.
“No,” he said. “That can’t be her name.”
“Yes.”
“No, Livia.”
He had raised his voice, almost yelled.
“Yes. Ethel wants to talk.”
Joakim was still sitting on the bed, incapable of moving. “I… don’t want to talk,” he said. “Not to her.”
“She wants-”
“No,” said Joakim quickly. His heart was pounding, his mouth was dry. “Ethel can’t be here.”
Livia was silent again.
He couldn’t breathe anymore-he just wanted to escape from this room. But he stayed there on the edge of Livia’s bed, stiff and terrified. And all the time his eyes were flicking over toward the half-open door.
The house was completely silent.
Livia lay motionless beneath the covers now, her head still turned away from Joakim. He could hear the faint sound of her breathing.
In the end he managed to stand up, and forced himself to go out into the dark corridor.
The night outside was light; the full moon had found itself a place among the clouds and was shining in through the freshly painted windows. But Joakim didn’t want to look out; he was afraid he might see the thin face of a woman staring in at him, her expression filled with hatred.
He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the floor and went into the porch, where he saw that the outside door to the veranda was not locked. Why could he never remember to lock it before he went to bed?
Well, from now on he would definitely remember.
He quickly walked over and turned the key, with a brief glance toward the shadows in the inner courtyard.
Then he turned around and crept back to bed. He pulled Katrine’s soft nightgown from under his pillow, clutching it tightly beneath the covers.
After that night Joakim decided not to ask Livia about her dreams anymore. He didn’t want to encourage her any longer, and had begun to be afraid of her answers.
On Friday morning, after driving the children to Marnas and before carrying on with the renovation of the ground floor, he did something that felt ridiculous yet at the same time important. He went around the manor talking to his dead older sister.
He went into the kitchen and stood by the table.
“Ethel,” he said, “you can’t stay here.”
Talking to her should have made him feel foolish, but all Joakim felt was grief and loneliness. Then he went outside, blinking against the cold wind blowing off the sea, and said quietly, “Ethel… I’m sorry. But you’re not welcome here.”
Finally he went over to the barn, pulled open the big door, and stood in the doorway.
“Ethel, go away.”
He didn’t expect a reply from his dead sister, and he didn’t get one. But he felt better, just a little bit better-as if he were keeping her at a distance.
On Saturday the family had visitors: their former neighbors from Stockholm, Lisa and Michael Hesslin. They had called a few days earlier and asked if they could stay over on Oland on their way back from Denmark. Joakim had
