The Girl in the Woods. Camilla Lackberg

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СКАЧАТЬ to sleep and escape everything. Pretend it was all a bad dream. Her body relaxed, the wooden tabletop felt as soft as a pillow under her cheek. She slipped further and further away. A warm hand was cautiously patting her back. Warmth spread through her body.

      Then someone came in the front door. She didn’t want to open her eyes. She didn’t want to see Peter standing there. But Gösta gave her shoulder a squeeze, and she had to do it. She looked up and met Peter’s gaze, which was just as shattered as her own.

       BOHUSLÄN 1671

      The cow named Stjärna had recovered by the time Lill-Jan went to see to her the next morning. Preben said nothing to Elin about it, but he looked at her with new interest. She felt him watching her as she prepared breakfast. Britta had been in an unusually good mood when Elin helped her sister to dress. But she was always happiest on Sundays. She loved sitting at the very front of the church during the services, wearing her best clothes and with her hair beautifully coiffed. She loved seeing the pews fill with the members of Preben’s congregation.

      It was not a long walk from the vicarage to the church, and the servants went as a group. Preben and Britta had gone ahead in the horse-drawn wagon so Britta’s fine clothes would not be soiled by muck and mire.

      Elin held Märta’s hand in a tight grip. The girl scampered more than she walked, and her blond plaits bounced against the back of the old cloak she wore. It was freezing cold, and Elin had carefully stuffed paper inside Märta’s shoes to keep her feet warm and dry, but also because the shoes were hand-me-downs from one of the maids whose feet were much bigger. But Märta did not complain. Shoes were shoes, and she had already learned to be happy with what she had.

      Elin’s heart lifted when she saw the church looming before them as they reached Vinbäck. The newly built tower was a stately sight, and the metal roof gleamed in the winter sun. A cemetery wall made of red-painted planks surrounded the church, and there were three big brick entrances with roof tiles, and iron gates to prevent livestock from wandering into the cemetery.

      Merely stepping inside the churchyard made Elin’s heart sing, and when they entered the church itself she took a deep breath and allowed the silent atmosphere to seep inside her.

      She and Märta took seats at the very back. There were forty-eight pews in all, but lately they were never filled. The crowds of people who had once flocked to the coastal area during the great herring era a hundred years earlier were now only a memory. Elin’s maternal grandmother had told her about the old days, recounting stories she had heard from her own parents and grandparents. Back then, everything had been different. The herring was so abundant they hardly knew what to do with all the fish, and people had come from all over Sweden to settle in the area. But the herring had disappeared and war and famine had depleted the land. Now only the stories remained. And many pews stood empty, while the rest were occupied by the listless, pale, and gaunt residents of Bohuslän. Looking at their faces, Elin saw a defeated people, devoid of hope.

      The church had windows only on the south wall, but the light streaming in was so lovely that she felt tears well up in her eyes. The pulpit was also on the south side. The murmuring among the congregation faded as Preben climbed the stairs to the pulpit.

      The service began with a hymn, and Elin put extra effort into the song, as she usually did, since she knew she had a beautiful singing voice. It was a small vanity she allowed herself because Märta loved to hear her sing.

      She tried hard to understand what Preben was saying. Swedish was the only language permitted in the church, both for the sermon and the prayers. This was a great burden for most members of the congregation, since they were more accustomed to speaking Danish and Norwegian.

      But he had a lovely voice. Elin closed her eyes and immediately felt the warmth of Preben’s hand. She opened her eyes and forced herself to stare at the back of Britta’s head, at the very front of the church. Britta wore her hair in a beautiful plait that Elin had fixed for her that morning. The white collar of her dress was freshly starched. She was nodding as Preben preached.

      Elin forced her thoughts away from the sound of Preben’s voice and the memory of his hand touching hers. He was Britta’s husband, yet she was sitting here in God’s house thinking these forbidden thoughts. It would come as no surprise if lightning struck the church and killed her on the spot, as punishment for her ungodliness. She squeezed Märta’s hand and made herself listen, trying to understand the words issuing from the pulpit. Preben was talking about the great turmoil spreading across their kingdom and their parish, and about their countrymen who were carrying on a brave fight against the devil by seeking out his envoys and bringing them to trial. The congregation listened as if mesmerized. The devil was as much a part of their daily lives as God was. Satan was omnipresent – danger lurked in the eyes of cats, in the ocean deep, in the raven perched in the tree. Satan was as real as a father or a brother, or the neighbour living next door. The fact that the evil one could not be seen by the naked eye made him even more dangerous, and constant vigilance was required.

      ‘So far we have been spared,’ said Preben, his voice resounding so beautifully between the stone walls. ‘But it is only a matter of time before Satan sinks his claws into children and women in our little corner of the world as well. So I beseech you to be watchful. The signs will be evident. Keep God’s watchful eye on your wife, your daughter, your maids, your neighbour, your mother-in-law, and your sister. The sooner we find these brides of the devil who dwell among us, the sooner we can strike back and prevent Satan from claiming a foothold here.’

      Everyone nodded, an agitated rosy flush appearing on their cheeks. Any of the children who sniggered received a sharp poke in the side, a tug on their hair, or a box on the ear.

      The rest of the church service was over much too soon. It was a break from the daily routine, a time for everyone to rest and turn their attention to the needs of their soul.

      Elin stood up and took a firm grip on Märta’s hand so she would not get lost in the crowd of people all trying to leave at once. When they stepped outside, she shivered in the cold.

      ‘Pox upon you!’ a voice cried behind her.

      Elin turned in surprise, but when she saw who had cursed her she lowered her eyes. It was Ebba of Mörhult, the widow of Claes who had perished along with Per and the others on the fishing boat. Ebba was one of the reasons she had not been able to stay in Fjällbacka but had been forced instead to accept Britta’s offer. Ebba’s hatred towards her knew no bounds, since she blamed Elin for what happened. And Elin knew why the woman felt that way, even though the words she had called to Per on that fateful morning had not caused the boat to sink. Elin’s words had not drowned Per and his men; it was the fault of the storm that had suddenly overtaken them.

      Yet things had not gone well for Ebba after Claes died, and she blamed her misfortune on Elin.

      ‘Ebba, not on the church grounds, not on sacred soil,’ Helga Klippare admonished her younger sister, drawing her away.

      Elin gave Helga a grateful look and quickly moved off with Märta before the confrontation turned into an even bigger spectacle. People had turned to stare at her, and she knew that many thought Ebba’s accusations were justified. But Helga had always been a kind and fair woman. She was the one, after all, who had helped bring Märta into the world on that spring morning eight years ago. The birth of every child in the area had been overseen by Helga, who was skilled at midwifery. It was also rumoured that she secretly helped poor girls who had landed in trouble, but that was not something Elin fully believed.

      With heavy steps she headed back towards the vicarage. The bliss СКАЧАТЬ