Page 28 of Hidden in Memories
When they first met she was a guide and ski instructor, and loved every minute. Now she is an administrator with a local company. Not exactly her dream job, but the hours are regular and mean she can make life as the parent of a small child work.
Although sometimes the boredom gets to her. She has never been a fan of routine.
“Okay, I’ll make myself something,” Daniel says, heading for the kitchen. “Back in a few minutes.”
Ida feels guilty when he has left the room. She could of course have made something that would be enough for Daniel when he got home. But she hadn’t. She had had neither the desire nor the energy.
Sometimes she wonders what is happening between them.
She still remembers the feeling at the beginning, how much in love they were. Her whole body tingled as soon as she saw him, even if he’d only been gone for a few minutes. They made love several times every day.
That was fewer than three years ago—not very long.
Today she doesn’t feel like that at all when he walks in. Nothing happens inside her, and when they talk it is mostly about Alice, or practical matters. Who is going to pick her up from preschool, whether they should go somewhere at the weekend.
Once or twice Daniel has mentioned the possibility of a brother or sister for Alice, but Ida has dismissed the idea.
She feels trapped in a way she can’t really explain, never mind acknowledge out loud.
She often reminds herself that she is lucky to have a beautiful daughter and such a sweet partner. He has even started seeing a therapist for her sake. He is determined to make their relationship work, and Ida knows why. He has told her about his upbringing and his absent father, how important it is for him to give Alice a different childhood.
Ida stares down at her tablet.
It can’t just be about Alice all the time,she thinks, absentmindedly scrolling through the ever-increasing barrage of comments.
She is only twenty-seven.
Is this it for the rest of her life?
21
A glowing full moon surprises Hanna when she finally emerges from the police station after a fourteen-hour day.
The mountaintops beyond Lake Åre are sparkling, the moonlight is so bright that she can see her own shadow in the snow, and everything around her is in silvery tones.
In spite of the ongoing investigation, she is transfixed. Thoughts of the horrific homicide fade away. It is almost ten o’clock, Hanna is exhausted, but the cold, fresh air chases away her tiredness.
She stands there with her face turned up to the sky for a few seconds before reality catches up. It is time to go home; she wants to make an early start tomorrow. At least she knows that Henry Sylvester has an unshakable alibi for Sunday evening—that was the last thing she checked out before leaving the station. Several witnesses have confirmed that he had dinner with them in Stockholm.
The moonlight accompanies her on the short walk to Solbringen. The snow crunches beneath her feet as she walks up the hills. After the last bend, her little house appears, bathed in a magical, luminous shimmer against the background of the dense forest, a brown gingerbread house that is hers and hers alone.
She takes her keys out of her pocket, and as soon as she opens the door, she is met by Morris’s meowing. He winds himself back and forthbetween her legs, even though Lydia has been over to feed him. He is so thrilled that she feels like a queen making her grand entrance.
Before she goes to bed, she must check on the local Facebook groups to see if anyone is missing a fluffy gray-and-white cat. Part of her hopes not. She posted on the noticeboard of the Åre police home page asking if anyone had inquired about lost pets, but so far there has been no response.
Hanna kneels down in the dark hallway, and Morris rubs his body against hers. He is purring like a tractor. When she strokes his head, he stretches his neck and closes his eyes; there is no mistaking his intense enjoyment.
She is covered in cat hairs, but it doesn’t matter.
It is so nice not to come home to an empty house.
22
The pain in her right shoulder is keeping Tiina awake, even though it is after eleven and she needs to sleep.
She turns over, tries lying on her side, glances at Ogge’s sleeping form next to her. He is on his back; in the darkness she can see a few black hairs protruding from his wide nose. From time to time, he lets out a snore; it starts in his throat, continues to the roof of his mouth, and emerges as a rasping sound from his open mouth.
In sleep his face is calm and peaceful; he almost looks kind. His hands are resting on top of the covers. His eyes, which can narrow with anger when he is drunk, are closed.
