Rites of Spring, Anders Motte [reading diary .TXT] 📗

‘We need to go over the enclosure again. There must be a gap in the fence somewhere that we’ve missed – but first we have a job to do at Svartgården.’

The name made Per’s heart beat faster, and he had to make a real effort to maintain his composure.

‘What kind of job?’ he asked, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

‘We’re terminating the lease.’

‘Shit – why?’

‘Because the count is selling the land to the army.’

‘So what happens to Lasse and his family?’

Erik shrugged. ‘Not our problem. The count can do what he likes with his land. Grab hold of the front legs.’

He seized the deer’s hind legs, while Per fumbled in his pockets for his gloves, only to realise he’d left them in the car. He could feel his father’s eyes on him, staring at Per’s smooth hands.

‘For fuck’s sake, Per – just do it. Getting dirt under your fingernails occasionally is part of what we do. You have to get used to it.’

Reluctantly Per seized the front legs. The fur was rough and cold. He suppressed a shudder.

Between them they carried the body to the car, with Per doing his best not to stare at the wound in the animal’s throat. The patches of dark red blood on the white belly. The big, empty eyes, reflecting the sky above.

The whole thing was so harsh, so brutal. So far from what he really wanted to do. The person he wanted to be.

He thought about Elita, about his dreams.

His heart beat even faster, bringing a flush to his cheeks. He glanced anxiously at his father, hoping he hadn’t noticed anything, but fortunately Erik seemed to be completely focused on the task in hand. His lips were moving, murmuring words that were barely audible:

‘Nature is hungry and the Green Man is riding through the forests.’

18

The atmosphere is subdued during the drive home.

‘I’m sorry,’ Thea says in an attempt to fix things. ‘I had no idea . . .’

‘It’s fine,’ David murmurs. ‘Dad’s not himself. Mum had high hopes for the new medication, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. Not yet, anyway.’

‘What do you think he meant?’

‘Nothing – he mixes things up. Names, people, events. Everything somehow blends into one.’

‘But he remembered Elita Svart. Dr Andersson told me the whole story. All four of you were there – you, Nettan, Sebastian and Jan-Olof. You saw Elita’s brother . . .’ She breaks off. ‘Why have you never mentioned any of this?’

David sighs. ‘It happened such a long time ago. I don’t want to rake up the past.’

‘It must have been terrible – to see your friend . . .’

‘Elita Svart wasn’t our friend.’ His tone has hardened.

‘Oh – I thought . . .’

‘You thought wrong.’ He doesn’t say anything for a little while. ‘Elita was sixteen, and very . . . mature for her age. We were only twelve, nerdy kids who played board games. As far as we were concerned, Elita was in a different league. When she suddenly started taking an interest in us, it was amazing. She made us feel special. She was good at that – she knew exactly what to do.’

He slows down, turns left out of the village and follows the narrow lane leading to the castle. There are no street lamps here, and the darkness closes around the car.

‘So what did Elita get out of it?’ Thea wonders.

‘I don’t know, to be honest. Maybe she enjoyed being in the centre of attention. Whatever it was, she started sending us on little errands – to buy sweets, collect her clothes or school books, take messages. We became her secret little servants, but the sick part is that we were more than happy to go along with it. We were completely bewitched by her.’

He shakes his head as if he finds it hard to believe what he’s saying.

‘Even though she was a gyppo?’

That word again, bitter as bile.

‘That was the kind of thing other people said behind her back. Adults, mostly.’

‘Your parents?’

David pulls a face, confirming Thea’s suspicions.

‘Elita made us promise not to tell anyone what we were doing. It wasn’t difficult; none of our parents would have approved of us spending time with her, which of course made the whole thing even more exciting.’ He falls silent.

‘So what happened on Walpurgis Night?’ Thea ventures after a moment.

No answer. David is clutching the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. He looks as if he might be working up to telling her.

They come from nowhere, suddenly appearing in the beam of the headlights. Black creatures with humped backs, pouring across the lane.

David slams his foot on the brake and wrenches the wheel to the side. The tyres screech on the tarmac and Thea just manages to grab the handle on the roof before the car lurches across the ditch and ends up in a field of rape. The front wheels sink into the soft ground, bringing the vehicle to an abrupt stop. The engine dies, and there is total silence for a few seconds.

‘Are you OK?’ David asks eventually.

Thea nods. Her heart is racing, the air inside feels thick, it smells of petrol and exhaust fumes.

‘W-what the hell was that?’

‘Wild boar. A whole fucking herd of them.’

He gets out and walks around the car to inspect the damage. She hears him swear, and decides to join him. The cold air makes her shiver. It’s dark, but she can clearly see the front wheels buried in the ground. One of the headlights has stopped working.

David jumps back in the car, starts the engine and tries to reverse. Earth and greenery spurt up around the tyres, but the only result is that the car sinks even lower.

‘Fuck!’ He slams his fists against the wheel. Gets out again and kicks one of the tyres.

‘Shall we call the roadside recovery firm?’ Thea suggests.

‘We can’t do that, for fuck’s sake! We’ve both been drinking. If the recovery guy calls the police and I go down for drunk driving, the restaurant is fucked!’

He takes several deep breaths then spreads his