The Girl Who Died, Ragnar Jonasson [small books to read .TXT] 📗

And now she had been charged, along with a couple of other people, with murder.

The days in court passed by in a blur. She didn’t experience any guilt or regret, but nor did she have the feeling she was innocent. The police officers’ description had been too persuasive for that.

She tried to detach herself from what was happening, as a way of preserving her sanity.

She had even stopped missing Hannes, for the most part, having long ago reconciled herself to the knowledge that he was gone. Besides, if she had been involved in his murder, she had no right to miss him. Her time with him seemed hazy now, as if it had been a dream. If only it had never happened, she thought; if only they had never met and he had never vanished. He and his mate Hilmar.

She had regular meetings with her lawyer, at which he assured her that she had a good chance of being found innocent. The police had no evidence to base their case on, apart from her confession.

There was a certain comfort in this thought, though she could hardly imagine what the newspaper coverage must have been like. Even if she was found innocent, to the public she would always be guilty. Was there any way out of this?

Subconsciously, she knew she would be found guilty of the murders. She stood no chance against the system … against the police, the judges. She was nobody, a nonentity who could conveniently be sacrificed to tie up the case in a simple, tidy manner.

So it didn’t really matter any more whether she had been involved in murdering the two men or not. No one was on her side. She was alone, and when you’re alone in the world, concepts like guilt or innocence cease to have any meaning.

XXIX

Una was woken by the phone. The jangling resounded around the whole house, as usual. She glanced automatically at the clock, saw that it was midday and realized she must have dozed off on the sofa. Well, she had needed the rest.

The phone kept up its peremptory ringing and it occurred to her to run downstairs and answer, but she knew – or believed – that Salka was home and she didn’t want to jump in ahead of her. Quite apart from which, she had absolutely no desire to bump into her after what had happened.

The noise stopped abruptly mid-ring. No doubt Salka had picked up.

Una wondered who it could be. Salka didn’t get many phone calls. Someone from the village, perhaps? Were they planning another meeting from which Una would be excluded …?

She was startled to hear a knock at her door.

‘Una?’ The door opened and Salka put her head round. ‘Were you asleep? Sorry. There’s someone on the phone, asking for you.’

‘What? For me?’ Una sat up, rubbing her eyes, and realized how tired she was. She could happily have gone on sleeping.

‘Yes, some woman.’

‘OK, thanks, I’m just coming.’

Salka disappeared.

Una hurried downstairs and into the hall.

‘Hello?’

‘Una? Hi. Did I wake you this time?’ It was Sara at the other end of the line.

‘What? Oh, no, not at all. But there’s only one phone in the house and I was upstairs.’

‘Aha. I’ll see for myself when I come and visit.’

Yeah, right. Una refrained from asking exactly when this visit was supposed to take place, not least because she wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to stick it out there herself.

‘What’s up?’ she asked sleepily, not really in the mood for a chat, though she realized it would probably do her good to talk to someone who didn’t live in the village.

‘Oh, I just wanted to let you know that I looked it up for you, that business of the girl who died.’

Una perked up a little and her tiredness temporarily receded.

‘Oh? Did you find something?’

‘Yes, just in Our Century, you know, at Mum and Dad’s house. I didn’t have to search long, but I think I’ve seen enough.’ She paused: ‘Unless you need to write a whole essay about it.’

‘Oh no, nothing like that. So what happened?’

‘From what I read, it sounds like quite a gruesome story. The girl drank poison.’

‘She drank poison?’ Una whispered.

‘Yes, can you imagine? She was only young.’

‘Was it an accident?’

‘Nobody knew, as far as I can tell. Which makes it all the more horrible, if you ask me – wondering if someone poisoned her deliberately. You never know what living in such an isolated spot can do to people. But you’d know more about that than me.’

Una was shaken by the story. It wasn’t what she had been expecting at all. And Salka hadn’t bothered to tell her, though she must know about it.

‘Well, what do you think?’ Sara repeated, when Una didn’t answer.

‘I’m speechless,’ Una replied. ‘I wasn’t prepared for that at all. It sounds pretty gruesome, as you said. The poor child must have suffered terribly.’ She was fairly sure of that after her years studying medicine. ‘What kind of poison was it?’

Not that this was the most important aspect.

‘Rat poison, according to the book. I should think people in the countryside would have needed to have it to hand in those days.’

‘When you read about the incident, how did it strike you?’ Una asked. ‘Did you feel there was any suggestion that she might have been murdered?’

‘Hard to say, but, yes, maybe.’

No wonder the poor girl can’t find any peace, Una thought to herself.

‘Does this help you at all?’ Sara asked.

‘Yes, thank you. It was important for me to know. It’ll help me learn to understand this place a bit better.’

‘How are you coping?’ Sara asked unexpectedly.

Una hesitated. She wanted to lie to avoid any further discussion, and say that it was an absolute dream, that it was fantastic living in the heart of nature, in such a tranquil spot. That would be the easiest answer.

‘Actually, it’s pretty grim,’ she said instead. ‘I don’t get on with the