“Hyvää yötä.” The Finnish words rolled softly off his tongue as he wished her goodnight.
Elea exhaled the breath she had been holding as he left the room. All this time, when she’d presumed Swann was desperate for a divorce, it was Alice pushing the narrative. Alice, who fought like a tiger to keep her family together. Swann said his children weren’t planned. She wasn’t so sure about that.Not my circus, not my monkeys, she reminded herself. She stared at the keys to his Brayford flat. What was she setting herself up for?
Chapter 24
Liisa
Last night I cried so hard that my stomach muscles ached. I haven’t cried this much since my dog, Onni, died last July. But then Mother was there to comfort me. She took a day off work for his funeral and that morning we picked tufts of blue vetch and ox-eye daisies to lay on his grave. It was hot that day, the stems of the plants sticky in my hands. Mother bought ice cream, and we had waffles for dinner with chocolate sauce. She wasn’t a good cook, but she was always there when I needed her the most. I remember the warmth of her body that night, as she spooned me in my narrow single bed. Her chin resting on my shoulder, she whispered that Onni was old, and we’d been lucky to have him for so long. Dearest Onni. Now my heart hurts and my eyelids are swollen, but this time I’m on my own. I close my eyes tightly, trying to imagine what she’d say.
The dripping hasn’t stopped.Drip ... drip ... drip ...It’s been going on all night as I try to plan my escape. Mother would tell me to think bigger.Tyvestä puuhun noustaan: you climb a tree from the base; start from the roots. My nights are dark and scary, but at least Johanna and Mikael leave me alone, giving me time to think. Now where was I? My thoughts have wandered. Oh yes, start at the base. I’ll begin with my room. Is there anything here that can help me to escape? Because I can’t do this on my own. I’m not strong, but Iamfast. If only I had run that day.Stop it. Back to the base: my room.
I do this all the time: start thinking about getting away, but then I feel scared and it’s easier to imagine all the things I should have done. I need my mother. I need her to take my hand and tell me what to do.Start at the base, she says, once more. But there’s nothing in this room to help me. Everything is nailed down or caged. The windows are shuttered, thick nails battered from every direction. I imagine Johanna with her hammer, her strong arm lashing out at the wood. It is splintered in places, but not going anywhere. Like me.
So what next?Drip ... drip ... drip. The weather. I stare at the ceiling, each splatter of melting ice bringing hope. The snow is thawing. Good things come slowly. If the weather warms up, maybe I could survive outside. But it’s January. I know how to forage, but there’s little at this time of year. Unless I try to store away some food? Johanna—I think of the nails flattened into the wood. She’d give me a beating, or worse. There’s a darkness about her that frightens me speechless. As for Mikael, his face is a mask I can’t see through.
I hug myself and count my breaths to calm down. In, out—no time for tears today. Morning will be here soon. Mama will come. That’s all there is to it. So I don’t need to start from the beginning and work my way out of here. Still, my thoughts creep to the door. There’s a small chink of light underneath. Johanna always leaves a light on in the hall at night. There’s a bolt on the other side. Sometimes Mikael grunts when he has to pull it across, but Johanna slides it like a knife through butter. There is always someone in the cabin. Johanna might go to the outhouse for wood when Mikael is hunting in the forest, but she’s never far away.
I jerk at the sounds of movement coming from the hall. I must have fallen asleep. Johanna’s heavy footsteps make the floorboards creak in protest. I am grateful for the rickety cabin that warns me when she is near. I sit back on my elbows, tiredness making my body heavy. She slides the lock across, and I get ready to do as I’m told. Johanna does not like to wait. She is not patient, like my grandmother. Nor is she kind. My heart flip-flops, as it always does when my prison door is open. The smell of meat cooking reaches my nostrils and my stomach growls loudly.
Johanna is smiling. Her face is expectant, like it’s her birthday and she’s waiting for me to give her a cake. It’s not her birthday, is it? I try to remember everything she’s said since I’ve come here.
“Good morning.” Her voice is strangely upbeat. “Get dressed. Today is the day.”
My mouth falls open as I try to understand.
Another smile. It unnerves me. I don’t trust it.
“Don’t you want to know why we brought you here?”
Chapter 25
Elea closed her eyes against the cascading water of her rainfall shower. She’d had to drag herself outside for her morning run, but she felt better for it now. A short sleep had delivered scattered nightmares and a lingering sense of unease. Her daughter’s yellow school bag was part of a recurring narrative that wouldn’t let go. Every night in vivid colour she was presented with the image of that damned yellow rucksack rotting in the heavy snow. If only someone had seen it that day. Too much time had been wasted searching in the wrong places and knocking on neighbouring doors. Because it was Porvoo, right? A place where a neighbour would let you use their phone or even give a child a lift home. The town had convinced itself that what had happened to Anu and Venla could never happen again. Yet it had, years later, on the same date.
With her thick towelling robe wrapped around her, Elea stood at her hotel window, staring at the silvery-grey clouds that seemed to be a permanent fixture in the Lincoln skies. She clutched her mug of coffee, tendrils of steam carrying the scent of instant granules that tasted like tar. Her thoughts firmly in Porvoo, she pictured the small wooden sauna at the side of her home. She missed the ritual of heating the sauna stones, the hiss of steam as she ladled water and the comfort of being enveloped in a soothing cloud of warmth. She missed sitting in quiet reflection, the firmness of the wooden bench beneath her body as she relaxed. And oh, how she missed the invigorating shock of stepping into the cold, crisp air. Her sauna had been her sweaty sanctuary from the world.
Nestled along the Porvoonjoki river, her house sat amongst a mosaic of pretty pastel-coloured wooden houses with cobblestone streets full of storybook charm. Her buttermilk-coloured two-storey abode came with cute trimmed window boxes that hosted a variety of flowers soaking up the summer sun. Being a single parent, she didn’t have a lot of money, but her life had been idyllic. She just didn’t realise it at the time. But now she was deep in the belly of grief, after being plucked from her happy existence and swallowed whole. She sipped her coffee, grimacing at its bitterness. Swann was right: she really needed a place of her own. Somewhere she could make a decent brew, at the very least. She turned away from the window. This room was too small, too restrictive. She tipped her coffee down the porcelain bathroom sink, watching the dark-brown liquid circle the drain. Soon. She would move into his flat. That’s if Alice didn’t find out and set the place alight first.
The ring of her phone snapped her out of her reverie. Only her mother would call at 6 a.m. “Hei.” Elea gave a half-smile as she answered. Her mother proceeded to speak in Finnish, although her English was perfectly acceptable. Pete, her dad, had been a taxi driver before he moved to Finland for a change of scene. The hippy and the British taxi driver. It had been quite the love story, back in the day. It was why Elea had got on so well with Swann, she supposed, as she had recognised his need for a respite from his normal life.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” her mother asked. “You sound tired.”
“I’m fine. Been up since five.” Elea walked to her bedroom and stood before the wardrobe. “How are you? Still beating Otso at chess?”
Her mother exhaled a chuckle. “He gets so cross. I let him win sometimes.”
“Men and their pride.” Hilma and Otso had been lifelong friends. Otso, with his kind face, oversized glasses, and shiny white dentures. It comforted Elea that her mother wasn’t alone while she herself was busy chasing answers thousands of miles away. Silence passed between them. This was the space Hilma always gave her before bringing up Liisa. Her mother’s devotion to Buddhism had got her through the toughest of times. Elea envied her calm ability to accept whatever life threw at her, even when it hurt like hell.
“How’s it going?” Hilma probed gently. “Any more leads?”
“I don’t want to jinx it.” Elea stood before the wardrobe, working out what she was going to wear. “But we’re close.” She pulled out a Filippa K tailored blazer, matching it with a white shirt and slim-fitting black trousers.
“Meditate,” her mother advised. “It’s food for the soul.” Hilma’s words were soft, but focused. She was the kind of person that it felt good to be around. She had cried for three days solid after Liisa disappeared, blaming herself for not being able to pick her up on time. It took her another two weeks to pull herself from the mire of despair. Elea knew her mother would never get over what happened, far less forgive herself for not being there. Elea didn’t have the capability to help her at the time. Otso had been her rock.
“You’re Buddhist. You don’t believe in souls.” Elea slipped off her robe.
Hilma exhaled the type of patient sighs usually reserved for four-year-olds. “You know what I mean. How’s Richard?” She had a soft spot for Swann.
“You know very well how he is.” Hilma had met Swann’s mother when she first visited Helsinki, and they had kept in touch ever since. Elea cradled the phone on her shoulder as she stepped into her underwear. Her clothes were carefully orchestrated, but her bras and knickers rarely matched. She didn’t havethat muchfree time on her hands.
