Chapters (71)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Author’s Note
- Extract from Rites of Spring
- About the Author
Like most men over seventy, Klein drives a little too slowly. Neither he nor Elisabet say anything, and even though Anna usually has nothing against silence, eventually she feels compelled to break it.
‘I met some of the Poles outside the emergency department at the hospital yesterday. Apparently, one of them had had an accident in the forest.’
Klein and Elisabet exchange a glance, and at first, he seems unwilling to comment.
‘It wasn’t an accident,’ he says after quite a while. ‘Pawel trod on one of Mats’s traps. Mats knows he’s not allowed to set gin traps, but he’s got it into his head that he’s going to catch a wolf. He won’t listen to—’
Elisabet gently taps his leg, which makes him shut up. The gesture is so intimate that Anna can’t help raising her eyebrows.
‘We’re here,’ Elisabet says. ‘You can park over there.’
*
The nursing home is surrounded by tall trees and green lawns. A nurse shows them into a visitors’ room, her voice softening when she talks about Karl-Johan. Huge picture windows look out over the park, where two gardeners in yellow jackets are raking up leaves. Progress is slow; the park is so big and there are so many leaves that the task seems overwhelming.
Karl-Johan Vidje is sitting in an armchair with a blanket over his knees, facing the two men. Anna and Klein hang back while Elisabet goes over and kisses him on the cheek. He gives a start, then takes her arm as if he’s glad to see her. Elisabet exchanges a few words with him, then beckons Anna to join them.
‘This is Anna Vesper – I told you about her. She and her daughter have moved into Tabor. Anna has been a great help to us.’
Karl-Johan is well over seventy, but his hair is still blond rather than white, and he has surprisingly few wrinkles. His expression is kind, his smile warm. He is wearing a pair of close-fitting dark glasses.
‘Anna,’ he says, shaking her hand in a way that makes Anna think he’s repeating her name silently to himself.
‘We had one of your lithographs at home when I was growing up,’ she says. ‘I liked it very much.’