Dark Angel

Thick smoke was now swirling around in the cramped kitchen. Mamma was furious. Through the billowing haze I saw the scathing look on her face. She was shouting and screaming. Behind her I heard my siblings come into the kitchen. My sister started wailing.

‘I was just trying to …’ I ventured, feeling my lower lip begin to quiver. I was paralysed with fear.

‘Out!’ she bellowed. ‘Get out of here this minute, you stupid child!’ She was shaking one hand at me. In the other she held the thermos. ‘You’ve wrecked the sodding thermos. Do you have any idea how expensive they are? Now I’m going to have to buy a new one. And I can’t afford it!’

Her voice rose to a shriek, and then she started sobbing. Scared out of my wits, I raced upstairs to my room, closing the door behind me. I wished that I could have locked it. Wished that I could have run away and never come back. I crept under the covers like a frightened animal, shaking all over.

I lay there for hours. But she never came.

And the hole inside me grew.

THE DEDICATION OF the new conference centre in Visby was decidedly one of the high points of the year. The centre would put Gotland on the map in terms of hosting conferences and help to bring people to the island all year round – not just sun-seeking tourists in the summertime. Their shoulders hunched against the capricious April wind, the invited guests hurried towards the main entrance. The Visby brass band was bravely playing their horns in the gusts, which ruffled their hair and fluttered their ties like banners.

The wind also hampered the efforts of the photographers jostling for space near the red carpet.

Everyone from the local press corps had turned up. Even a couple of paparazzi from the Stockholm tabloids had been sent over from the mainland to cover the event.

The building gleamed in the evening sunlight. Magnificently modern, it was constructed from glass and concrete and centrally located just outside the ring wall near the verdant park called Almedalen, only a stone’s throw from the sea. An unnecessary showpiece of a building, according to some people. A visionary project that would benefit all of Gotland, others claimed.

Most of the faces in the crowd of people were well known to the island residents. Local politicians, the top business people, the county governor and the bishop, the cultural élite as well as famous summer guests who had flown over from the mainland to take part in the festivities. The number of celebrities and bigwigs who bought summer houses on Gotland seemed to increase every year.

In the lobby of the conference centre stood the evening’s host, the event planner Viktor Algård. Along with the governor and the chair of the county administrative board he had formed a receiving line to greet the guests. There was the steady sound of people kissing each other on the cheek as polite words were exchanged.

The foyer quickly filled, accompanied by the cheerful buzz of voices. It was at least 10 metres to the ceiling, and the décor was done in an authentic Gotland style, with pastel colours. Young waitresses moved deftly among the assembled guests, offering hors d’oeuvres and chilled Moët et Chandon. White lilies had been meticulously arranged in slender crystal vases, and candles were burning in lanterns placed on cocktail tables scattered about the lobby. The view from the enormous picture windows was magnificent: Visby seen at its very best. Almedalen, with its green lawns, the pond with the ducks and the rippling fountain. The ring wall, partially covered with ivy, surrounding a hotchpotch of medieval buildings. The thirteenth-century ruins of St Drotten and St Lars churches, and crowning everything the cathedral’s three black spires reaching up to the heavens. Beyond it, the endless sea. The site chosen for the conference centre was perfect.

When all the guests had arrived, the county governor ascended a podium that had been positioned in a corner of the lobby. She was an elegant woman in late middle age, wearing a black floor-length skirt and silk blouse. Her blond hair had been stylishly cut.

‘I would like to welcome all of you,’ she began, letting her gaze sweep over the festively clad audience. ‘It’s a great honour for me to dedicate, at last, our new conference centre here in Visby. The project has taken five years and so many of us have been longing to see the final result. And what a result it is.’

She made a grand gesture to indicate the setting. Then she paused for dramatic effect, as if wanting to give everyone time to truly take in the atmosphere and savour the tasteful furnishings. The light grey floor was made of Gotland limestone from Slite, the walls were adorned with guild banners, and the long reception counter was decorated with knotted wool from Gotland sheep. A wide, illuminated staircase made from American cherrywood led up to the next floor, which was to be the setting for the banquet and after-dinner dancing.