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It wasn’t like Percy to shout in this way, and Pyttan shrank from him in alarm. Then she sat studying him for a while, and he knew her well enough to surmise that she was weighing her options: deciding whether to fight back or try to soothe him. When her expression abruptly softened, he knew that she’d decided on the latter.
‘Darling, let’s not start quarrelling about something as trivial as money.’ She straightened his tie and then tucked in his shirt, which had been pulled up out of his trousers. ‘All right. Now you look like my elegant lord of the manor again.’
She pressed close, and he felt himself starting to relent. She was wearing the Gucci dress today and, as usual, he was finding it hard to resist her.
‘Here’s what we’re going to do. You phone the accountant and go through the books again. Things can’t be that bad. I’m sure you’ll find it reassuring to discuss the situation with him.’
‘I need to talk to Sebastian,’ murmured Percy.
‘Sebastian?’ said Pyttan, wincing as if she’d swallowed something foul. She glanced up at Percy. ‘You know that I don’t like you spending time with that man. Because then I have to entertain his insipid wife. Those two simply have no class. I don’t care how much money he has, he’s an utter boor. I’ve heard rumours that the fraud authorities have been keeping an eye on him for a while. They’ve yet to come up with any proof, but it’s only a matter of time. We shouldn’t have anything to do with him.’
‘His money is as good as anyone else’s,’ said Percy.
He knew what the accountant was going to say. There was no money left. It was all gone, and in order to get himself out of this bind and to save Fygelsta, he needed capital. Sebastian was his only hope.
They had been taken to the hospital in Uddevalla, but everything seemed fine: there was no sign of residual smoke in their lungs. Now that the first shock had subsided, Ebba felt as though she’d awakened from a strange dream.
Finding herself squinting in the dim light as she sat at her desk, she turned on the lamp. Now that it was summer, dusk crept in slowly, and she invariably sat straining her eyes for a while before realizing that she needed more light.
The angel she was working on was proving intractable, and she struggled to attach the loop. Tobias couldn’t understand why she made the jewellery by hand instead of having it manufactured in Thailand or China, especially now that a lot of orders were coming in via the web shop. But then the work wouldn’t seem as meaningful to her. She wanted to make each piece of jewellery by hand, put an equal amount of love into every necklace that she sent off. Weave into the angels her own sorrow and her own memories. Besides, she found it soothing to do this sort of work in the evenings, after spending a whole day painting and hammering and sawing. When she got up in the morning, every muscle ached, but while she worked on her jewellery, her body would relax.
‘I’ve locked up the house from top to bottom,’ said Tobias.
Ebba gave a start. She hadn’t heard him come in.
‘Damn it,’ she swore as the loop fell off, just as she had almost put it in place.
‘Don’t you think you should take a break from all that tonight?’ said Tobias cautiously, coming to stand behind her.
She could feel him hesitating about whether to put his hands on her shoulders or not. In the past, before what happened to Vincent, he would often massage her back, and she had loved his firm yet gentle touch. Now she could hardly stand to have him touch her, and there was a risk that she would instinctively shake off his hands and hurt his feelings, and then the distance between them would grow even greater.
Ebba tried to fasten the loop again, and finally managed it.
‘Does it really matter whether we lock up the house?’ she said without turning around. ‘Locked doors didn’t seem to stop whoever it was trying to burn the place down last night.’
‘What else can we do?’ said Tobias. ‘And you could at least look at me when we’re talking. This is important. Somebody tried to burn the bloody house down, and we have no idea who it was or why. Doesn’t that scare you?’
Slowly Ebba turned to face him.
‘What should I be scared about? The worst has already happened. Locked or unlocked doors, it doesn’t matter to me.’
‘We can’t go on like this.’
‘Why not? I did what you wanted. I’ve moved back here, agreed to your grand plans to renovate this dilapidated old mansion and then live happily ever after in our island paradise while the guests come and go. I’ve agreed to everything. What more do you want?’ She could hear how cold and unrelenting she sounded.
‘Nothing, Ebba. There’s nothing I want.’ Tobias’s voice was every bit as cold as hers. He turned on his heel and left the room.
Finally she was free. She’d found a situation as a maid on a farm in Hamburgsund, and now she’d be able to get away from her foster mother and those odious children of hers. Not to mention her foster father. His nightly visits had become more frequent the older she got and the more her body developed. After she had her first monthly period, she’d lived in constant terror that a baby would start to grow inside of her. A child was the last thing she wanted. She had no intention of being one of those frightened girls, their faces swollen from crying, who came and knocked on her mother’s door, holding a screaming bundle in their arms. Even as a young girl she had despised them, their weakness and their air of resignation.
Dagmar packed up her few possessions. She had nothing left from the home of her real parents, and here she’d acquired nothing of any value to take with her. But she was not about to leave empty-handed. She slipped into her foster parents’ bedroom. In a box under the bed, way back against the wall, was the jewellery that her foster mother had inherited. Dagmar lay down on the floor and pulled out the box. Her foster mother was in Fjällbacka, and the children were playing in the yard, so no one was around to disturb her.
She opened the lid and smiled with satisfaction. There were enough valuables here to give her some semblance of security for a while, and she was glad that it would pain the witch to lose these inherited jewels.
‘What are you doing?’ demanded her foster father from the doorway, making her flinch.
Dagmar had thought he was out in the barn. Her heart pounded wildly for a moment, but then she felt a great calm come over her. Nothing was going to ruin her plans.
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ she said, taking all of the jewellery out of the box and stuffing the pieces in her skirt pocket.
‘Are you out of your mind, girl? Are you stealing the jewellery?’ He came a step closer, but she held up her hand.
‘That’s right. And I’d advise you not to try and stop me. Because if you do, I’ll go straight to the county sheriff and tell him what you’ve been doing to me.’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’ He clenched his fists, but then the frown on his face relaxed. ‘Besides, who would ever believe the Angelmaker’s daughter?’
‘I can be very convincing. And rumours will start to spread faster than you can imagine.’
His face clouded over again, and he seemed to hesitate, but she decided to help him out.
‘I have a suggestion. When my dear foster mother discovers that her jewellery is missing, you’ll do everything you can to calm her down and