The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7) by Mari Jungstedt Page B

dark out here in the autumn and winter when the daylight disappeared around four in the afternoon.
    She wandered slowly along in front of the house; then she went up on to the veranda and peered in through a window. There she saw the kitchen, with simple wooden cupboards and an ordinary pine table. Nothingremarkable at all. A candlestick with a partially burnt candle stood on the table. The clock on the wall had stopped.
    Suddenly she gave a start. A shadow danced across the floor. The next instant she relaxed when she realized that it was the sun playing through the crowns of the trees. It was just her imagination that someone had appeared. She sat down on the veranda and leaned against the wall with her face lifted towards the sun. The trees surrounding the house whispered in her ears; a seagull shrieked from the water. A man in a rowing boat was fishing out there. Again she closed her eyes, feeling the sun on her face. Here she sat, all alone on Ingmar Bergman’s veranda. Almost as if she belonged to the family and had a right to be here. In her mind she pictured him coming out of the house.
    Then another thought slipped in. Slowly, as if it didn’t really want to announce its presence. No, she thought. That’s crazy. Her gaze swept over the warm wooden floor of the veranda, the sheltering trees, the silent house, the cloudless blue sky. Things really couldn’t get any better, but that would be the icing on the cake. She glanced at her watch. It was three thirty. There was still time. Eagerly she opened her shoulder bag and took out her mobile. Then she tapped in a text message.

JOHAN AND PIA had finished editing their report about the Bergman festival, and the Stockholm bureau was pleased with it. There were no regional news broadcasts on Saturday, so they had produced the story for
Rapport
, which was going to include it in their main programme. Pia Lilja was thrilled. She was young and ambitious and dreamed of getting a job at one of the big TV stations in Stockholm, so of course she was always eager to show off her talents. Since she was working away from the mainland, that was essential in order to draw the attention of the national news programmes. For some reason they didn’t really seem to value anyone who ‘only’ worked with the local news, treating her almost as if she were less intelligent. A lower-echelon creature in the rigid and inflexible hierarchy of television. Pia was well aware that she’d probably have to spend a number of years struggling before she could hope of getting even a temporary summer position in Stockholm.
    The following day Johan’s replacement was due to arrive, so the report on the Bergman festival was going to be his last for quite a while. He had a sense of unreality as he gathered up his belongings in the editorial office. He had never been away from his job for such a long time. Pia sat there with her feet propped up on the desk and watched him from under her straggly black fringe. She had a different coloured gemstone in her nostril today. It was just as black as her hair and the heavy kohl eyeliner she favoured.
    ‘I’m going to miss you, you know,’ she muttered.
    ‘Same here.’ Johan glanced up from the boxes he was packing and smiled. ‘You might not even be here when I get back.’
    ‘Oh, I don’t think I’m ever going to escape this place. I’ll probably be shooting pictures of herds of sheep, flags on the municipal building and the ring wall until the day I die.’
    ‘Right. If there’s anyone who’s going to be hanging around here until retirement, it’s me. The difference is that I actually wouldn’t mind.’
    ‘I know. You silly Mr Mum. We used to be able to go out partying together. But not any more. In that respect, Madeleine Haga is going to be a lot more fun.’
    Madeleine had been hired as Johan’s replacement. He had worked with her in Stockholm and knew her well. They’d even had a bit of a fling a long time ago. That had happened, too,