Part 10 (1/2)

'I'm sorry,' Annika said, louder this time, 'but I did. Or rather my employer did. Can I move, please?'

She struggled past the mother and blocked the aisle. The stewardess squeezed past the trolley with irritated little steps.

'You heard what I said. After September eleventh, you can't just change seats.'

Annika took a long stride closer to the stewardess, breathing right in her face.

'So throw me off,' she whispered, taking her laptop from the overhead locker and moving five rows forward.

With stress raging through her veins she wrote three articles before the plane touched down at Arlanda: an account of Lulea the day after the murder announcement, the sorrow of Benny Ekland's workmates, and the police questioning of the witness at the crime scene. The night crew would have to put together the overview and factual box-outs. She held back the details about Ragnwald and the F21 attack. She wasn't going to let go of them that quickly.

She hurried across the terminal and disappeared underground with her heart racing. She called Spike from the Arlanda Express and gave him an update, then he put her through to Pelle on the picture desk so they could talk about ill.u.s.trations. The newly established collaboration with the Norrland News Norrland News gave the gave the Evening Post Evening Post full access to the whole of their picture archive, both new and old, which saved them having to send someone up or use a freelancer. full access to the whole of their picture archive, both new and old, which saved them having to send someone up or use a freelancer.

'Hmm, you're not going to find picture of the year among this lot,' the pictures editor said, as Annika heard him clicking through the transferred material, 'but they'll do for tomorrow's edition. At least some of them are decent resolution, and even in focus.'

With her coat flapping, she walked from the central station to the place her six-year-old spent his days. The wind was damp and full of the smells of soil, leaves and car fumes; the gra.s.s was still green and half-dead leaves clung to a few branches. The light from a million lamps overpowered the Nordic autumn evening, giving the illusion that reality could be controlled, tamed.

There are never any stars in the city, she thought.

Annika's son threw himself at her as if she had been away six months. He pressed his sticky face against hers and ran his fingers through the hair at the back of her neck.

'I missed you, Mummy,' he said in her ear.

She rocked the boy in her arms, stroking the stiff little back, kissing his hair.

Hand in hand they walked off to Ellen's nursery school, until the boy pulled himself free and ran the last ten metres to the door.

Ellen was tired and reserved when she came over. She didn't want to go home, didn't want a hug. Wanted to carry on cutting out pictures, Daddy would pick her up.

Annika clenched her jaw to stop herself exploding, noting that her boundaries had evaporated.

'Ellen,' she said firmly, 'Kalle and I are going now.'

The girl stiffened, her face contorted, eyes open wide, and a desperate cry came out.

'My oversall,' she screamed. 'I haven't got my over-sall!'

She dropped the scissors and ran over to her peg, searching frantically for the overall. Annika could sense the disapproving stares of two other mothers further down the corridor.

'Well, come on now,' she said, going over to her daughter. 'I'll help you, but you've to stop being cross.'

'It's called an overall,' Kalle said.

On the way home Ellen let out occasional little sobs.

'We go on the bus with Daddy,' the boy said as they stood huddled on a traffic island at the traffic lights on Kungsholmsgatan.

'It's too crowded and hot on the bus,' Annika said, feeling suffocated at the very thought of it.

She had to carry Ellen from Bergsgatan. Once they were home, she quickly lit a fire in the stove to force the cold back from the draughty windows, and ran down to the yard with the stinking bag of rubbish, her hands and legs moving without her even being aware of them. Then she put the rice on as she fished her laptop out of her bag and turned it on, switching the cable from the phone in the kitchen, and putting a pack of cod into the microwave to defrost.

'Can we play on the computer, Mummy?' Kalle asked.

'It's Daddy's computer.'

'But Daddy lets us. I know how to start it.'

'Watch some cartoons instead, they'll soon be on,' she said, connecting to the paper's server.

The boy went off, shoulders drooping. She cut the cod into slices as her laptop signed in, turned the slices in salt and flour, then put them in a heavy pan with a bit of melted b.u.t.ter. She listened to the frying sound as she sent over the three articles, then splashed some lemon juice over the fish, dug out some frozen dill and scattered that over the top, then poured in some cream, warm water, fish stock, and a handful of frozen prawns.

'What are we having for tea, Mummy?' Ellen said, looking up at her from under her fringe.

'Darling,' Annika said, leaning over to pick her daughter up. 'Come here, come and sit up here.'

Her daughter cuddled into her lap, put her arms round her neck.

'Oh, sweetie,' Annika said, rocking her, breathing into her hair. 'Are you hungry?'

The girl nodded hesitantly.

'We're having fish in cream sauce with rice and prawns. You like that, don't you?'

She nodded again.

'Do you want to help me make the salad?'

A third nod.

'Okay,' Annika said, putting her on the floor and pulling a chair over to the worktop next to the cooker. 'Have you washed your hands?'

The girl ran into the bathroom, there was the sound of running water, and Annika suddenly felt giddy with tiredness.

She took out an ap.r.o.n and a fruit knife, tied the strings behind Ellen's back and showed her how to hold the knife. She let her cut some cuc.u.mber while she dealt with the lettuce and a handful of tomatoes. She poured over some olive oil, balsamic vinegar and some Italian salad herbs, and let Ellen toss the salad.

'Brilliant!' she said, putting the bowl on the table. 'Can you lay the table? You know how, don't you?'

'You're missing Bjorne Bjorne,' Kalle yelled from the television room, and the girl dropped the cutlery and ran off. Annika noted how filthy her socks were as she ran out.

Then came the sound of the front door being unlocked. She heard the children's jubilant cries and the noise of Thomas's briefcase being dropped on the bench in the hall.

'h.e.l.lo,' he said as he came into the kitchen and kissed her on the forehead. 'Who have you been talking to?'

She reached up on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips, wrapping her arms round his neck and holding him close. For some reason the image of Forsberg, the police officer, popped into her head.

'I haven't been talking to anyone,' she said to her husband's neck.

'You've been engaged for half an hour.'

She let go of him abruptly. 's.h.i.+t. I'm still online.'