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

that once housed offices and accommodation for the workers. Her father owns the lot. He bought them when the mine went bust years and years ago. He probably paid cash.

The collection of buildings is in a dip, with forest all around. The water finds its way down the slope, gathering at the bottom and forming huge brown pools. Sometimes, when it rains a lot, it’s like living by a lake. Or a bog.

Ronny lives in the first house. Two old bangers are parked on the drive; Thea sees a collapsible pool on the overgrown lawn, with a trampoline leaning drunkenly to the side a little further away.

Thea parks behind the other cars, rubs her hands on her jeans to wipe away the sweat. She is greeted by the sound of barking as she approaches the front door. She can hear Emee barking back through the cracked window of her car.

The bell isn’t working, so she knocks instead. Her heart is pounding so hard she can almost feel it through her shirt.

The door is opened by a plump woman of her own age, in a vest top and tracksuit bottoms. Her arms and shoulders are covered in tattoos, and she looks vaguely familiar.

‘Hi – is Ronny home?’

The woman looks her up and down. ‘And who are you?’

Thea takes a deep breath. ‘His sister.’

The woman is clearly taken aback. ‘Jenny?’

Thea nods reluctantly.

‘What the fuck . . . Don’t you remember me? Sofie Nilsson. We used to go into town to nick make-up together.’

Thea forces a smile. ‘Of course.’

‘I didn’t recognise you, Jenny. Look how smart you are! Don’t just stand there, come on in. Ronny!’ Sofie yells over her shoulder.

The house smells of cigarette smoke and fried food. A row of children’s shoes are lined up – surprisingly neatly – inside the door.

‘Ronny!’

‘What?’

Ronny is wearing a lumberjack shirt and scruffy jeans. He hasn’t really changed much, apart from being heavier and greyer. The muscular arms, the sharp nose and the dark eyes remind her of Dad. The scar down one cheek is old, but it’s new to Thea. Combined with the beard, it makes him look like a hard man.

‘Hi!’ she says, managing to keep her voice steady.

Her big brother stares at her for a few seconds, then breaks into a wolfish grin.

‘Well, if it isn’t my missing little sister. How nice to see that you’re still alive.’

*

They sit down on the glassed-in veranda. Sofie sets out a bottle of Coke and two plastic glasses, then sensitively withdraws into the house.

‘So you’ve got kids,’ Thea says.

‘That’s right – two with Sofie, and one with Lollo. You remember her? Jocke’s sister?’

‘Of course. I read that he’d died.’

She realises that she’s giving herself away, letting him know that she’s googled them from time to time. However, Ronny doesn’t comment. He merely nods, then takes out tobacco and cigarette papers, starts to roll his own.

‘Thea Lind. Where did you get that name from?’

She would really prefer to get to the point, find out what she has to do to keep the door leading to this part of her life firmly closed, but she decides to play along for a little while.

‘Thea was a girl who helped me revise for my college exams. It was thanks to her I got a place in medical school.’

‘And Lind?’ He licks the paper and seals the cigarette.

‘Another girl who lived on the same corridor as me. Veronica. She also came from the back of beyond and was determined to stay away, like me.’

‘Had she stolen money from her family too?’ Ronny lights the cigarette.

Thea takes a deep breath. It’s just as she suspected.

‘Mum gave me that money. It was her life insurance.’

‘Mm . . .’ He blows out a column of smoke. ‘Three hundred thousand. What did you spend it on?’

‘My education. I rented a little student room in Umeå. Studied at the adult education institute for a year. Lived on noodles, revised like a demon for my exams. Got into medical school by the narrowest possible margin.’

Ronny doesn’t say anything for a moment. He merely carries on smoking, watching her.

‘And now you’re the lady of the castle, married to a restaurant owner.’

‘I work part time as a GP. The castle is David’s project. We live in a little house behind it.’

Ronny takes another drag.

‘We haven’t got any money,’ Thea continues. ‘David’s practically broke. He did some bad deals and had to sell up.’

‘But he owns a castle?’

‘He’s renting it from a foundation. Two of his old school friends are financing the project.’

‘So you say . . .’ Ronny stubs out the cigarette and immediately starts rolling another. Remains silent, letting her squirm.

Frustratingly, it works.

‘Was Dad really angry when I left?’ She doesn’t want to ask the question, yet at the same time she wants to hear the answer.

‘What do you think? You were his favourite. He thought you and Jocke were going to get married and give him grandchildren. Instead you took off with his money.’

‘It was your money and mine too . . .’

Ronny ignores the comment.

‘He looked for you for a long time. That business of getting a protected identity – very smart. He asked all his contacts to keep an eye out for you; he even persuaded a cop to check their database. But it was as if you’d gone up in a puff of smoke. At least until you popped up on TV.’

He grins, lights the second cigarette.

‘What is it you want from me, Ronny?’

He shakes his head. ‘Not me. The old man. He wants to see you.’

‘Now?’ She peers out of the window. The house where she and Ronny grew up is just visible on the edge of the forest.

‘As soon as possible.’ He follows her gaze. ‘He’s not there.’

‘So where is he?’

‘What do you think? In jail. Eight years for serious drugs offences. He’s still got four left to serve – that’s the issue.’

‘What do you mean, that’s the issue?’

‘I’ll let him tell you.’

Ronny looks at his phone. ‘It’s an hour’s drive – you’ll be just in time for visiting.’

Thea