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

with David. Instead she asks questions about Sebastian and Bianca’s travels.

She notices Arne, and makes an effort not to stare at him. He slaps David on the back, but sidles past Thea without even saying hello.

Per and Erik Nyberg are the next to show up.

‘This looks wonderful, David,’ Erik says. ‘It reminds me of the way it was back in the count’s day.’

Thea hasn’t spoken to any of them since the little performance in the courtyard the other day, but neither Per nor his father refer to the incident. They greet her warmly and Per kisses her on the cheek.

David introduces a series of people to her – party planners, food and wine writers, a couple of influencers.

Kerstin Miller is accompanied by Jan-Olof.

‘Lovely to see you, Thea. What a pretty dress!’

Jan-Olof is wearing an ill-fitting navy blue dinner jacket. He says hello without making eye contact, then grabs a glass of champagne. He doesn’t look happy, and judging by his bloodshot eyes, he’s had more than a couple of drinks to warm up in advance.

Dr Andersson arrives with a dried-up little man whom she introduces as her husband. Thea makes small talk with them for a few minutes while keeping an eye out for Hubert Gordon. Unfortunately there’s no sign of him and she hopes he’s just late, that he hasn’t decided to follow the festivities in his former home from a distance.

*

The guests are still enjoying pre-dinner drinks out on the steps. The evening is mild, and the fire baskets provide extra warmth.

David gives a short, well-rehearsed speech, thanking the Bokelund Foundation and the residents of Tornaby for their help, and highlighting Sebastian and Nettan’s contributions.

‘Without you this project would never have come to fruition. And of course a big thank you to my wife Thea for putting up with me, especially over the past few weeks.’

All eyes turn to Thea. She raises her glass and summons up a smile.

David ends his speech by inviting everyone into the entrance hall. The doors to the dining room are thrown open and a big band begins to play. There are candles everywhere, the crystal chandeliers sparkle, their light reflected in the gold-panelled walls, and high up on the ceiling the creatures of the forest continue their revelry.

Thea glances up at the west wing, but the windows are in darkness. Hubert has obviously decided not to come.

They sit down; Per Nyberg is beside her.

‘Don’t say anything,’ he whispers, ‘but I swapped the place cards so I could sit next to you.’

He winks at her, and she’s not sure if he’s joking.

‘How’s the life of a musician these days?’ she asks.

He smiles, shrugs.

‘Well, it might not be the rock star career I dreamed of, but it’ll do.’

Jan-Olof is also on their table, still knocking back everything in sight.

‘Bloody hell!’ Per suddenly exclaims.

Hubert Gordon is standing in the doorway. He looks a little lost, but Ingrid is there in a second to welcome him.

Per lets out a low whistle. ‘The hermit has emerged from his cave. I wonder who managed to lure him here?’

‘That would be me.’

‘Well done – I’m impressed.’

Per raises his glass to her and they share a toast. When Thea lowers her glass, she sees that Hubert is watching them. He nods in greeting. He’s been seated at the same table as David and his parents. Nettan is next to David, Thea notes.

‘What’s it like being newly married to David?’

‘Good. Have you been married?’

Per laughs. ‘No – I guess I’ve never met the right person. Tragic, wouldn’t you say? A grown man still living at home with Daddy.’ His tone is jocular, but Thea senses something else; a hint of sadness that surprises her.

*

The atmosphere in the dining room becomes more lively as the wine flows. Halfway through the main course, someone taps on a glass. It’s Bertil. He gets to his feet, unfolds a sheet of paper and begins to read his speech.

‘Dear David, what a fine job you and your friends have done here at Bokelund. To see you, Jeanette and Sebastian together again warms my heart. It seems like yesterday that you used to spend time at our home. I still don’t know what you got up to, and I don’t want to know either!’

He pauses, laps up the expected laughter.

‘Another person we must thank is Rudolf Gordon. If the count hadn’t set up the Bokelund Foundation, Tornaby wouldn’t have been the village it is today. It’s thanks to Rudolf’s generosity and foresight that we’re sitting here now.’

A brief burst of applause. Thea glances over at Hubert. His expression is completely neutral, showing no emotion at the mention of the generosity that robbed him of his inheritance.

Bertil goes on to talk about David’s life, how he was interested in cooking from an early age. He gives a chronological summary of David’s career, leaving out the ignominious departure from Stockholm, of course.

Bertil is having one of his most lucid days for a long time. It’s clear that he’s an experienced speaker; he’s good at making contact with his audience, and stops in exactly the right places to elicit laughter and applause. Ingrid looks pleased. She nods in agreement after virtually every sentence, especially when David is the subject. The warmth in her eyes as she gazes up at Bertil is something Thea hasn’t seen before.

Bertil glances down at her with equal affection, and for a moment it is possible to glimpse the two young people in the wedding photograph, so much in love. Thea realises that she finds it quite moving, and that she’s not the only one.

After speaking for exactly the right number of minutes, Bertil raises his glass and is about to finish off with a toast that will raise the roof.

‘You forgot something, Bertil,’ Jan-Olof says, lumbering to his feet. He’s obviously drunk. His table companion tugs at his sleeve, but he irritably shakes off her hand.

‘You forgot to tell everyone what happened. With Elita and Leo.’

Several hands reach out to pull Jan-Olof down onto his