Page 175 of The Sleepwalker
The clock chimes twice as the hand strikes ten thirty.
‘She keeps the time, but she never gets any older,’ says Erland.
‘Returning to Veronica’s wig .?.?.’ Joona reminds him.
‘It was like she became shy at first, after she lost her beautiful hair. But .?.?. I don’t know, that wasn’t the only tough part .?.?. As for the wig, it just vanished one day .?.?. She was buried without it,’ he says, his face twisting in grief.
Small black fruit flies swarm around a pot plant on the window sill. The plastic door frame has yellowed, and there is a boxset ofBreaking BadDVDs on the bookshelf, alongside a number of paperbacks and old souvenirs.
‘Did it ever turn up?’ Joona asks after a moment.
‘No.’
‘What happened to it?’
‘Veronica was always losing things. She was so tired all the time .?.?. So suspicious towards the end, too. She was convinced one of the nurses had nicked it.’
‘I know she bought the wig from Carl M. Lundh’s and that it was made using the hair from a woman called Ann-Charlotte Olsson.’
Joona places a photograph of Lotta on the table in front of Erland. The picture was taken shortly after she sold her hair for the first time, and she is wearing a shaggy blonde wig of synthetic hair, squinting through her glasses and smiling as though she is embarrassed about her teeth.
‘Do you recognise this woman?’ he asks.
‘No.’
‘She lives in a place called Rickeby, not far from Rimbo.’
Erland shakes his head and sips his coffee.
‘After Veronica died, I sold the house .?.?. The boy and I moved here, to a modern apartment with hot water and a shower,’ he mumbles.
‘Does your son still live here with you?’
‘Kasper? Not at the moment, no. But officially, yes.’
They sit in silence for a moment. Joona can hear the ticking of the clock and the hum of a radio in the apartment next door, the subdued sound of the traffic outside.
‘We miss that house. Well, I do .?.?. It was old, but it was right by the lake, with a lawn and fruit trees and a hammock,’ Erland says with a sigh. ‘I still wake up at five every morning, can’tshake the habit .?.?. Going down to the shed for some logs and wood shavings to get the fire going in the kitchen, so I could have the water boiling before Veronica got up.’
Erland tops up their cups and pushes the tub of biscuits towards Joona. He then stirs another two sugars into his coffee and taps his spoon on the cup.
‘No, I don’t understand,’ he mumbles to himself.
‘What are you thinking about, Erland? What is it you don’t understand?’ Joona asks patiently.
‘After everything, when it was just me left .?.?. I was sitting here, going through her phone, and I found some love letters she’d sent to another patient at the clinic. I don’t think she was cheating on me, though. I think it was just part of her confusion.’
‘Which clinic are you talking about?’
‘You know, the Sleep Lab over in Uppsala,’ Erland replies.
61
Hugo woke that morning with a pounding headache and a mouth like sandpaper. He peeled off the wireless sensors, drank the glass of water on his bedside table and slumped back against the pillow.
The lingering clouds from last night’s nightmares faded and disappeared.
He thought back to his time in Svanhildur’s room, to her eyes and her freckled face, the bottle of tequila and their truth telling game, their innocent kiss – and then he remembered the camera. He reached down and felt the little lens, prised it loose from his pyjamas and put it on the bedside table.
