The Quarry

Eventually he straightened up and took a deep breath. ‘My father is dead,’ he said.

Vendela placed her hand on his cheek. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

Per nodded. ‘And my daughter’s friend Emil is dead too.’

Vendela said nothing; she left her hand where it was and looked inquiringly at Per. He went on: ‘He died on Sunday night. He picked up an infection in hospital, and he was too weak to fight it … Nilla was in love with him, she cried when she told me what had happened. She just cried and cried, and I didn’t know what to say.’

Vendela moved closer, holding out her arms.

Per didn’t want her to hug him, she was so skinny and there was no love left in the world.

They stood motionless in the grass holding one another for several minutes. After a while Per could hear that they were breathing in time with one another. Long, deep breaths.

Eventually she let go of him, then she took a step back and turned her head. She nodded over towards the labyrinth of rocks and bushes.

‘Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.’

53

Vendela had called Max’s mobile and the landline at their apartment in town a total of eight times on Monday evening, but he didn’t answer until the ninth call. By that stage she was no longer capable of keeping her voice steady; she shouted down the phone, right across the water: ‘Ally should be here, Max! Here on the island!’

‘But right now he’s here.’

‘He doesn’t feel well in town!’

‘We’ll see,’ said Max. ‘In any case, he’s going to the vet first thing tomorrow morning; I’ve made an appointment. Then we can find out what’s wrong with him.’

Vendela clutched the receiver tightly. ‘He’ll get well here. With me!’

‘That’s just your imagination.’

Max sounded calm and collected, but Vendela got even more angry when she heard how much he was enjoying having the upper hand. She lowered her voice. ‘Bring him back here, Max. Come straight here after you’ve been to the vet.’

‘Of course, we’ll soon be back … And of course you can go off jogging in the meantime.’

Vendela realized what he was implying, and sighed. ‘I’m on my own here, Max,’ she said quietly. ‘All the neighbours are away.’

‘So you’re keeping an eye on their comings and goings, then?’

Vendela didn’t reply; this was pointless. ‘Bring Ally back tomorrow,’ she said, and hung up.

She stood by the window, staring out at the empty landscape. Something was complaining and screaming out there, and at first Vendela thought it was a child, but then she saw a gull flying south along the coast.

She was dizzy with rage and hunger, but she wouldn’t eat yet. She would go out instead.

Quarter of an hour later, as she was setting off from the house, she noticed that Per Morner’s car was parked outside his cottage.

But she didn’t stop, she ran towards the alvar with the sun on her back and her eyes fixed on a point far ahead in the distance. She became a machine, lifting her legs and pumping her arms and moving across the ground. She didn’t achieve a sense of rhythm, but she ran fast.

Eventually she noticed that she wasn’t alone. Another figure was moving through the bushes ahead of her.

Per Morner. He was wearing the same blue tracksuit top, but was running in shorts this sunny evening.

Vendela increased her speed and gradually caught up with him. She didn’t call out, but he stopped and turned around when she was about fifty metres away.

They stared at one another; by the time Vendela stopped she was completely out of breath and hadn’t the strength to speak, and Per also looked totally exhausted.

It wasn’t until a few moments later, when she had her arms around him, that Vendela decided to take Per to the elf stone. When she got her breath back the first thing she said was, ‘Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.’

And they set off again, running straight across the alvar. She could find her way between the bushes without even thinking about it now, and Per followed her. They ran in step and close together, as if they were helping one another.

Vendela didn’t slow down until she saw the grove of juniper bushes. Per stopped and took deep breaths; he looked worn out.

‘It’s over here,’ she said, leading the way.

They entered the dense ring of bushes, and Vendela saw the elf stone. As always, she speeded up as she approached it. For a brief moment she forgot that she wasn’t alone, but Per followed her right up to the block of stone.

‘A big stone,’ he said.

‘Yes, a big stone,’ said Vendela. ‘Have you never been here?’

He shook his head. ‘But you have?’

She placed her hands on the stone, running her fingers around the empty hollows. ‘Yes, many times. This is a very old place. I think people have been coming here through the ages to forget the rest of the world for a while.

Per looked around. ‘It seems like a good place to do that.’

‘A good place? I don’t know … But time passes more slowly here. And you can sit here and pray.’

‘Pray?’

Vendela nodded. ‘Pray for help and good health.’

‘God’s healing power, you mean?’ said Per.

‘Something like that.’

She sat down on the grass with her back resting against the stone. Per hesitated, then sat down beside her.

They rested for a while with their legs outstretched, watching as the setting sun stained the clouds dark red.

‘Have you told your husband you’re out here?’ Per asked.

Vendela didn’t answer at first. How much should she tell him?

‘Max isn’t at home,’ she said eventually. ‘He’s taken our dog back to the city so the vet can check him over. And … we’ve had a row as well. I stood up to him, and he’s not used to that. He gets frustrated.’

Per didn’t say anything.

‘But he’ll soon come bouncing back, like a rubber ball … Max needs me.’

‘In what way?’

‘I help him with his books.’

‘How? You mean you …’

‘I make sure he finishes them.’

Per looked at her. ‘Do you write his books?’

‘Sometimes.’ Vendela sighed. ‘We work together. But Max thinks it’s better and simpler if he’s the one in the limelight, with his name on the cover as the author.’

‘Better for him, anyway,’ said Per. ‘What do they call it when you lend your name to someone else who wants to remain anonymous?’

‘I don’t know … but then again, Max has nothing against being well known,’ said Vendela. ‘I prefer to remain invisible.’

She had always found it difficult to talk about her husband; it felt like a betrayal, but she went on, ‘Max likes to be in the centre of things, and he has tremendous self-confidence. He’s written a cookery book this spring, in spite of the fact that he can hardly even boil water … I wish I had just a fraction of that confidence in myself.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I was in therapy for a while, seeing a psychologist. That’s how I met Max.’

‘He was your therapist?’