A Question Mark is Half a Heart Read online

  ‘But what about Father Christmas? How’s he going to find us if we go away?’ Edvin asked sadly.

  ‘You know what, maybe he won’t. But I don’t think he’s been doing his job all that well the last few years. It probably won’t make any difference if he doesn’t come.’ Marianne tried to stop herself laughing, but she couldn’t, it bubbled up as she tried to smother it. Edvin pressed his hands to his ears.

  ‘Then I’m not going,’ he screamed. Elin stroked his back.

  ‘Mama’s just joking,’ she soothed him.

  Marianne stopped, her face growing serious again.

  ‘I think Father Christmas will find you one way or another. Maybe you can write him a letter and tell him where we’re going to be?’

  Edvin jumped down from the bed and ran quickly to the desk. He rummaged around in the mess of pens and paper and started to write in big, untidy capitals with great concentration, stopping to carefully fold an old drawing into an envelope.

  ‘I need an address,’ he called after a while.

  ‘Write Father Christmas, North Pole. That should be enough.’ Erik sniggered. Elin threw a cushion at him.

  ‘It was probably Aina who used to be Father Christmas. So Father Christmas is dead now!’ Erik’s voice was muffled under the pillow, and Elin pressed it down.

  The first tentative rays of the dawn tickled Elin’s eyes. She squinted at the window and caught a glimpse of the sky, beautifully streaked with red. She closed her eyes again, turned onto her side and pulled the covers closer around her shoulders. She heard whispers fill the house. Someone was there again. She wrapped the covers around her and crept out and over to the bannister. From there she peered in through the door to Marianne’s bedroom. The cover on the bed was moving and giggling voices could be heard from underneath.

  ‘Go on now, hurry. The children might wake up.’

  The words were smothered. She heard the sound of lips sucking tight to each other. She saw a naked back, hairy, roll over Marianne’s struggling body.

  ‘I’m never going to leave, you’re too lovely.’

  More noises. Wilder movements.

  ‘I think I love you. I love you.’

  His voice. Muffled and deep, it sent vibrations throughout the house. Her reply:

  ‘You’re crazy. Go on now, before the children see you here.’

  Elin sank down on the floor. She pulled the cover tighter around her, up over her head so only her eyes and nose poked out. Hardly dared breathe for fear of being discovered.

  Micke left the bed. She saw his face now. He was naked, his buttocks shining white in the morning sun. He stretched his arms above his head and groaned loudly, too loudly. Marianne was quickly there, naked too, and silenced him with her lips. Her breasts jiggled as she moved. He cupped one in his hand, leaned forward and took her nipple in his mouth. She leaned her head back. He let go and kissed her throat. Elin closed her eyes and held her hands tightly over them.

  In the end Micke left the house through the bedroom window, wriggling his way out and jumping down into the flowerbed. Elin crept back to her room. She saw through the window how he staggered off across the farmyard, towards the car that was parked there. In his stockinged feet and with a boot in each hand, he hopped from one foot to the other and wiggled them into the boots as he went.

  Downstairs, the rare sound of Marianne’s laughter could be heard. She too was watching from the window.

  Elin crept closer to the cliff edge, holding her breath and taking one cautious step at a time on the bare ground, legs and arms wide so her clothes wouldn’t make any noise. Right on the edge sat a white-tailed eagle in stately profile, its pale yellow beak elegantly curved. It turned its head and looked out across the sea, folding its wings tightly into its brown-speckled body. She wished she could capture the beautiful image forever, the light was so perfect.

  When Elin was ten metres away it was no longer possible to creep up undetected. The bird quickly spread its wings, their span greater than Elin’s entire height, and cast itself away from the cliff. In front of her hovered another. Like two warplanes the eagles flew, patrolling the coast. Elin ran along the path trying to keep up and watch, but the birds were too quick and they disappeared, soon no more than dots in the distance. She sat on the edge of the cliff with her feet dangling as she often did. It was dizzyingly high. Ten metres down she could see the limestone slabs of the seabed, like an irregular patchwork quilt under the clear green water. On a sunny spring day you could see the sea trout and cod swimming after sticklebacks and other small fish. She loved sitting there, just watching everything silently in the gorgeous light. It still hadn’t rained; the air was cold and clear, but the clouds were stacking up on the horizon, threateningly black.

  In the pocket of her trousers she had a new letter on pink writing paper. She’d found the writing paper in the drawers in Marianne’s room. Now it was folded three times into a little flat package. She wrote a little every day, just a few lines. Sometimes the letters ended up in her desk drawer, sometimes burnt in the stove. She thought she ought to tell Papa about all the money, that she should put a letter in the postbox, addressed to the prison. But she couldn’t find a good way to tell him. She had a feeling that the money would tempt him home, make him find a way to get out of prison. But how? She didn’t know. Was it still possible to dig your way out of a cell? To slowly, slowly gouge a hole in the stone wall and squirm out to freedom on the other side, one night when all the guards were sleeping? Or to use a fork to break the main power switch so the electricity in the high fence around the prison shut off? Papa was good at electricity, he used to do all the wiring for the farm himself. Then he could just climb over and run. He was quick and strong, Elin had seen that for herself when he’d nimbly swung himself from branch to branch in the climbing tree, the few occasions he’d taken the time to play with them. He wouldn’t even need to swim home, like the prisoners in Alcatraz did. He’d easily be able to hide in one of the Grinde trucks. Elin was astonished by the brilliance of that thought as it drifted by. She started writing, with the chewed yellow pencil stub she’d taken home from school.

  Papa, you don’t have to be a scandrull. Theres money here. Lots of money. Old Aina died and gave it all to Mama and Gerd. Come home as soon as you can. Hide in one of the trucks going to Grindes then you wont be discuvered on the boat. I can hide you here when you come.

  She folded the paper carefully and shoved it in her pocket. No one in the Eriksson family would ever need to be a scoundrel again. They wouldn’t even need to steal hot chocolate. Now they too would be able to eat fillet steak and Hasselback potatoes every Saturday, every day even, not just when there was a celebration. They’d finally be like everyone else. They’d even be a little better off than everyone else.

  Elin looked out at the faint line that divided the sky from the sea and observed the reflections of the light in the water, the rough surface with small irregular crests, the clouds’ dance with the wind. The sun that struggled to get through. She saw it glimmering beyond, like a yellow diamond beyond all the darkness.

  A rumble far off over the ocean made her jump up hurriedly. Soon the lightning and the storm would come closer, then it would be dangerous to sit there. As she walked along the path towards the forest, she felt the first small drops of rain landing softly on her head. They became heavier and heavier until, as she reached the letterboxes on the gravel track, the downpour came. It was as though the heavens had opened, the drops hitting the puddles with such force that they bounced. She pulled up her thin cotton jacket to protect her head and ran until a car pulled up alongside and tooted. It was Gerd.

  ‘Quick, jump in, you can ride with me for the last bit,’ she called through the rolled-down window. Elin heaved open the door and sat alongside Gerd. She was shaking from the cold and the water from her wet hair ran down her cheeks.

  ‘Poor darling, you’re freezing. You mustn’t go out without a raincoat, you know what the weather’s like this time of year.’


  She reached over and pulled out a blanket from the back seat. Elin took it gratefully and wrapped it around her shoulders. The engine coughed and big clouds of exhaust fumes puffed out, finding their way into the car. Elin wrinkled her nose.

  ‘You can buy a new car, now you’ve got all that money,’ she said, coughing. Gerd laughed out loud and pressed the horn a few times.

  ‘Oh no, she’ll do fine for me, old Silvia.’

  ‘Like the queen of Sweden? Is that why it’s called that?’

  ‘Yes, only the best for us.’

  ‘Everything’s going to be better now, isn’t it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, with the money.’

  ‘Of course, you’re not poor any more. Aina was a master of surprise. Just think what a secret she was sitting on. It’s crazy.’

  ‘But I miss her. I’d much rather have her here with us.’

  Gerd stopped the car. She switched off the engine and reached out towards Elin’s cheek, stroking it with her warm hand.

  ‘That’s life, little one. We’re born and then we have to die. And in between we have to go on living the best we can. And you can get your biscuits from me in future.’

  ‘How did you know about that?’

  ‘How did I know? I used to go there myself, as a child. And your mama too. Aina’s always given the children in this village biscuits and cordial. That was how she was. I think that was how she found company. Otherwise she’d just be sitting there at home, on her own, waiting for time to pass.’

  ‘She was so kind …’ Elin fell silent and twisted her hands in her lap.

  ‘Yes, she was that. The world’s kindest.’

  ‘What’s going to happen to all her books?’

  ‘Well, I guess we’ll have to drive them to the tip. They’re not much worth having, just a lot of fantasies.’ Gerd winked, then laughed.

  ‘I can take them. If no one else wants them,’ Elin said.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure that will be fine. That way you’ll have something to do for years to come. I’ve never understood all that.’

  ‘Aina understood it.’

  ‘Yes, she did. I’m sure she’s living in a library in heaven, what do you think?’

  Elin lit up at the thought of Aina in a lovely old library.

  ‘By the way, why didn’t Aina ever get married and have children? Why was she so lonely?’

  ‘Well, I guess she took the answer to that with her to the grave. Not everyone is lucky enough to meet someone.’ Gerd suddenly looked sad, and fiddled with the shiny locket she wore around her neck. Elin had opened it many times and seen the pictures inside.

  ‘But you did,’ Elin said.

  ‘Yes, I have my Ove. I’d never want to be without him. Make sure you find someone to share your life with, someone who’ll be your very best friend,’ Gerd said, giving the locket a quick kiss.

  ‘You’re taking care of Venus, aren’t you?’

  ‘Of course we are, dear. Would you like to come and see her? We can go over to our house now if you’d like. No, you know what, let me ring your mama, let’s have dinner together tonight. You can come over to ours, the whole lot of you.’

  Elin nodded and wrapped the blanket even tighter around her body. She was shivering, her lips purple. A bolt of lightning lit the road and the thunder came soon after. Gerd turned the key and restarted the car as Elin looked out of the window nervously.

  ‘That wasn’t even a second away from us! Imagine if we got struck by lightning.’

  ‘Are you scared?’ Gerd reached over to her and patted her leg.

  She nodded.

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘There’s nothing dangerous about thunder. It’s just the angels in their bowling alley in the sky.’ She put her finger to her lips. ‘But don’t tell anyone. It’s the angels’ secret.’

  Elin smiled at her.

  ‘You’re just kidding,’ she said.

  ‘Oh no, Aina will probably be at it too. That’s why it’s particularly loud today,’ Gerd laughed.

  They sat quietly for the last stretch and listened to the thunder. Elin gazed at the thick greenery that grew in the ditch along the verge and saw the water spraying up as the car cut through the deep puddles on the potholed road. Accordion music streamed from the radio, the doors juddering when the music got too loud.

  Ove was bent over his saxophone, blowing so hard his cheeks were red and marking the beat with his foot. His eyes were closed. He was playing Take the A Train, and everyone was caught up in the cheerful melody, Gerd clapping her hands and Marianne humming along. The table was full of pots and pans and scraped clean plates, and Elin was sitting on the kitchen bench between her brothers. All three were fascinated by Ove and the sounds he was making with the golden instrument. When he finally took his lips off the mouthpiece Edvin and Erik jumped up and down on the bench and begged him to play more, but he set the instrument aside and pulled his chair up to the table.

  Their dreams expanded to fill the room as they talked, eyes glittering and laughter flowing.

  ‘Shouldn’t we be a bit sadder about Aina?’

  Elin’s sudden question made everyone around the table stop. The flames of the candles were the only things that moved in the light breeze from the window.

  ‘Aina was so old, my love. It was time,’ said Gerd, tilting her head at her.

  ‘But of course we miss her,’ Marianne added.

  ‘It’s just hard not to be happy about all the money.’ Gerd smiled broadly.

  ‘Yes, you must understand that? We miss her but we’re happy at the same time. Because now everything’s good again. Aina made everything good.’

  Marianne poured more wine into the adults’ glasses. They drank quickly and got redder and redder in the face. Ove fetched more glass bottles of sugar soda from the plastic crate on the veranda and put them out for the children, who were allowed as much as they wanted given it was a celebration. Elin sucked up the cold liquid through three thin straws, unaccustomed to the feeling of bubbles on her tongue.

  Ove picked up the saxophone again, and Erik and Edvin danced in front of him as he played, bobbing up and down and bumping hips, their arms above their heads.

  It was after eleven when they finally started making their way home. Erik and Edvin were too tired to walk, so Marianne let Erik climb up on her back and Elin carried Edvin. He wrapped his skinny limbs around her and burrowed his face into her neck as she hummed the song Ove had just been playing: Summertime, and the livin’ is easy.

  Marianne was walking so fast that Elin couldn’t keep up with her. Suddenly she stumbled on a stone and Erik fell off, landing hard on the ground. He burst into noisy tears and their happy mood was replaced by an irritated hushing. When he didn’t stop, Marianne left him there and swayed onwards alone, holding her arms out to the sides for balance. Edvin called after her, but she didn’t turn even though the word ‘mama’ cut through the air. Elin put Edvin down and took both her brothers’ hands.

  ‘Let her go. We’ll be fine, it’s not far. Hold on to me, I know the way even in the dark.’

  They walked along the gravel road, Erik and Edvin in the tyre tracks that shone white in the light of the full moon, Elin on the line of grass that ran between them. Elin began to sing, the same line over and over again. In the end, the brothers joined in too:

  This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.

  This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.

  This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.

  Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

  NOW

  NEW YORK, 2017

  The notebook is no longer empty. She keeps sticking images into it. The jug is there, alone on a page with a beautiful frame around it, drawn with many flourishes with Elin’s fountain pen. The white porcelain jug reminds her of the taste of elderflower in a far-off place. She smooths her finger over it, remembering.

  On the next page she has drawn a f
reckled face from memory, a smile with large, uneven teeth, sparkling eyes that look at her pleadingly. The face is surrounded by little stars. She is filled with a curious longing.

  Perhaps she’ll stay in bed. Just one day on her own. There’s no one there, nothing she can or has to do. She puts the book aside and pulls the covers up to her chin, gripping them hard with both hands. She takes out the book again, opens it and finds the image she printed out yesterday. A single dandelion in a crack in the asphalt. Yellow as the sun. She remembers all the dandelions they had to pull up and throw away. Beautiful yellow flowers destined only for the compost. Perhaps she herself is a dandelion? A weed in the wrong place. A country bumpkin in the city. She closes her eyes.

  The telephone rings, for the third time. It’s her agent, and she’s clearly not giving up. Elin answers.

  ‘You’re late. There’s a whole team waiting for you and time is ticking by. Why aren’t you picking up?’

  The woman is shouting at her. Elin sits up, suddenly wide awake.

  ‘I don’t have anything on today – it’s empty, free.’

  ‘Look again. You fucking do have something on. Like a shoot for fucking Vogue? You don’t just forget that. We talked about it two days ago.’

  Elin gets out her phone and pulls up the calendar, opening her eyes wide as she realises her mistake.

  ‘I’ll be there in a quarter of an hour. I thought it was tomorrow.’

  ‘Five minutes. They’ve already been waiting too long. It’s not like you to be so forgetful.’

  No shower, she doesn’t have time. She runs into the closet and grabs a black jumpsuit. Below it are a pair of red sneakers; she eyes them doubtfully and in the end pulls them out of the wardrobe. She was given them by Alice for her birthday a long time ago, but has never worn them. She unties them and shoves her feet in. It feels strange, too comfortable, as though she were en route to the gym. She checks her reflection in the mirror quickly, pulls her hair back and fastens it in a bun. Then she runs the few blocks to the studio.

  The door is locked, so she rings the bell. There’s no one there. She pulls her phone out again and looks at her diary. The shoot is in Central Park. She gives a little shriek of frustration, suddenly remembering all the planning. The lake, the boat, the model standing in it in a long pink dress. Elin’s assistants have been struggling for days to find anchors to hold the boat still.