Chapter Four
On Monday morning, Mats read to the children on Alvin’s bed, having luxurious amounts of dad-time while he was in Skye. A video call was due from Inger. The three of them lolled together on a mound of pillows decorated with planets. Alvin and Astrid, hair brushed and cute faces gleaming, kept switching their gazes from the book about a fox and a mole to an iPad, screen blank, propped up against an obliging blue teddy bear halfway down the bed.
Then: ‘I want to hold it,’ Alvin bellowed in Swedish, hurling himself over the book and seizing the iPad. The teddy bear somersaulted to the floor.
Astrid gave an outraged gasp. ‘You’re too little, isn’t he, Pappa?’ She tried to wrestle it from his hands.
‘Not, not,’ howled Alvin, his tiny fingers reddening as he clung harder.
‘Hey, hey,’ Mats crooned soothingly, lifting Astrid off Alvin and prising all fingers but his from what had beena freshly polished screen. ‘Nobody’s going to hold it. We propped it up against bear so it wouldn’t get broken, and everyone would be able to see when Mamma calls.’ He leant sideways to retrieve the toy, and then propped up the iPad once more. ‘Astrid, we might have to chat about your behaviour concerning your little brother. And both of you should remember we’re trying to talk English while we’re here,’ he added, remembering the fact. ‘So “Daddy” in English, OK?’
Astrid pointed at the toy bear without addressing her sistering skills. ‘He’s not called Bear, he’s called Åke.’ She resettled herself against the pillows, her recently brushed hair now escaping from its scrunchie.
‘I not little,’ Alvin added inaccurately.
Mats was relieved when thebee-boop, bee-boopof an incoming video call hit the air.
‘Mamma!’ Alvin shouted, trying again to hurl himself at the iPad.
Mats scooped him up. ‘Sit nicely, and I’ll answer the call.’ His arms were long enough that he could reach the tablet without letting the children up from their pillows.
Inger appeared, relaxing on the curved seating of what was obviously the sumptuous deck of the superyacht she was living on. She smiled, and the whole screen seemed to light up. ‘Astrid, Alvin,’ she cooed in Swedish. ‘How lovely to see my darling babies. How are you? Are you having a nice time?’ Inger’s dark hair blew back from her face.
‘Hej, Inger,’ said Mats, not bothering to ask that she conduct the call in English. The children would speak more naturally to their mother in their native language. A quick smile, then he retired to lounge on the floor, content to watch his children’s eager faces while they chattered. After a while he’d get Josefin to look after Astrid andAlvin while he and Inger discussed anything the children didn’t need to hear.
‘We’re in a place called Skye,’ Astrid boomed, adding in English, ‘But not that sky.’ She pointed upwards.
‘And we’re in our bedroom,’ Alvin declared, not to be outdone. ‘Josefin’s bedroom’s next door. And Farmor’s here, too.’
‘She’s downstairs. We came on planes, and we stayed in a hotel,’ Astrid put in.
‘There’s lots of outside here,’ Alvin added. Mats laughed aloud at this description of Rothach Hall’s extensive grounds.
From the iPad screen, Inger laughed too. ‘I know where you are. I’ve been to Rothach with you, when you were younger. You just don’t remember.’ Brightly, she added, ‘We’re cruising up the coast of Egypt. It’s sunny.’
Astrid looked at her big bedroom window. ‘It’s sunny here.’
‘But here it’s sunny andwarm,’ Inger pointed out.
‘Here we have icicles, just like at home,’ Astrid countered. The call proceeded with details of the children’s day so far – largely eating and watching TV, according to them, with no mention of getting fresh air while kicking a ball around the lawn or using their brains by doing puzzles with Farmor. Josefin came to the door and Mats beckoned her in. Once in the room, she angled her head beside the children’s. ‘Hej, hej,Inger. Nice to see you. Astrid and Alvin have been excited about talking to you.’
‘I’ve been excited about talking to them,’ Inger claimed, although Mats wondered why she didn’t do it every day, in that case, or why she’d chosen to be away from them so long. He knew the answer of course … Andreas. Before he’d brought Inger into his circle, she hadn’t been quite soremote from her children. Mats hoped that after the cruise she’d have more time for them again.
After twenty minutes, the children’s attention began to wander. ‘Can we watchSpongeBob SquarePants?’ Astrid asked Inger, as if she were in the room.
‘I should think so,’ Inger replied. ‘Is Josefin still nearby? Perhaps she’d put it on for you while I talk to Pappa. But don’t leave without blowing me kisses.’ When the children made ‘Mwah! Mwah!’ sounds and kissed their fingers, she laughingly returned their salutes.
Then the two little people raced through the bedroom door towards the playroom.
Mats took up the iPad and settled himself against Alvin’s bed. ‘They miss you,’ he said, because no matter how much he was enjoying so much time with his kids, he felt it should be said. It would be the first Christmas the children wouldn’t see their mother.
‘Don’t, Mats,’ she said with affected weariness. ‘I know you disapprove of my holiday, but the children are fine and I’m getting the experience of a lifetime.’
‘You are, aren’t you,’ agreed blandly, without commenting on her immediately leaping to her own defence when he mentioned the children missing her. ‘But it’s what you changed partners for, right? I had enough money for you, but not enough time. You blamed that when you fell for Andreas.’ And she’d always refused to acknowledge that Mats’ long hours spent earning money meant only a few weeks a year for idling around on luxury holidays. Mats still winced when he remembered the day Erik had overheard her telling a friend that Mats’ family ‘made their money out of fishcakes. Fishcakes! I’d almost rather it was urinal cakes.’ Stung to find himself looked down upon, Erik had flamed with indignation.
‘Anyway,’ Mats said, as raking up old grievances was unproductive. ‘I’m glad you were able to chat to the children. They’re fine, and when the rest of the family come for Christmas, they’ll be even better.’
Evidently seeing this as a barbed comment she answered, ‘We’d already agreed that the children would spend this Christmas with you on the Isle of Skye,’ as if him taking them away for what had originally been planned for three weeks had been the sole reason that she’d accepted an invitation for a cruise that lasted threemonths. Her hand loomed briefly then her image vanished.
