The Girl Who Died Ragnar Jonasson (free ebook reader for ipad txt) 📖

We tried to make friends with the soldiers. I don’t remember finding their presence at all threatening; for us it was just exciting. Of course, there was a bit of a language problem, as you can imagine, as we didn’t speak a word of English, but we managed somehow and by the end we’d got quite good at making ourselves understood. It wasn’t a bad school.’

‘And what … what sort of relationship did the locals have with the soldiers?’

‘Excellent, no problems at all. Us boys spent a lot of time talking to them and they did their best to cause as little disruption as possible. It was an odd feeling for us to have a foreign army in the back garden all of a sudden. Unbelievable, really. But it can’t have been easy for them either. Not everyone can cope with the winter here, with the cold and the dark. The storms can be something else: freezing winds, often blowing up a gale, and hardly a scrap of shelter to be found, and when you add snow to the mix, all hell breaks loose. As you’ll discover. I don’t really know how they stuck it out up there as it can’t have been warm in those flimsy huts. But, like I said, they were very friendly. They gave us all kinds of goods, I remember; food, mainly – things we’d never seen before.’

Una opened her mouth to interrupt and change the subject, but Gunnar was oblivious to her, lost in his memories: ‘They used to give us Christmas presents too, American toys that were quite unlike anything we’d ever seen before. I’ll never forget them. But what I remember best of all was the time they held a movie show for us. I don’t know what the film was, some black-and-white Hollywood feature, but it all seemed so exotic to us. None of us kids had ever been to the cinema before, so it didn’t matter if we could hardly understand a word they said. It was all about the experience.’

‘He’s told me that story so often,’ Gudrún told Una, with a smile of sympathy. ‘Far too often. I know all his stories off by heart by now, as well he knows, but you’re his latest victim.’

‘That’s all right,’ Una replied. ‘I enjoy hearing them. It makes me realize how little I know about this place.’

‘I’ve got plenty more stories up my sleeve, don’t you worry,’ Gunnar assured her.

‘They’ll have to wait, dear,’ Gudrún said. ‘Now, Una, tell us about your plans for the concert. Have you made any arrangements yet? The children will sing, won’t they? Have you chosen the carols?’

Give me a break, I’ve only just got here! Una thought. ‘No, I haven’t had a chance to start thinking about it yet,’ she said aloud. ‘I’m sure it would be a good idea to get the children to sing. “Christmas is Just Around the Corner”? That sort of thing?’

‘ “Christmas is Just Around the Corner”?’ Gudrún made a face. ‘That’s hardly a proper carol. They need to learn some decent Christian hymns. And “Silent Night”, of course, though, strictly speaking, that should only be sung on the twenty-fourth.’

‘Like I said,’ Una replied, ‘I’ve hardly had a chance to think about the programme yet.’

‘I’ve always been involved every year,’ Gudrún said. ‘I studied singing in Denmark when I was young. I could be persuaded to help out …’

‘Oh, yes, please. I’d be very grateful.’

Gudrún brightened and the real purpose of this invitation to coffee finally became clear to Una.

‘How about I come along to some of your classes and rehearse with the girls?’ Gudrún suggested eagerly. ‘I took them for singing practice a bit last year. Of course, I wouldn’t expect to be paid; I’d offer my services for free. Gunnar and I have more than enough for our needs.’

Una thought for a moment, then decided to accept the offer. What did she have to lose? It would make life easier for her, and it would do the children good to learn to sing. ‘That would be great, really great. Perhaps we could start next week?’

‘I like the sound of that,’ Gudrún said. Gunnar was silent; with the change of subject he had withdrawn into his own thoughts.

‘Are the girls good? At singing, I mean?’

‘Edda is, yes. Kolbrún … well, I didn’t feel she really made the effort last year. But of course we won’t let her get away with that again. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with her voice. Children can generally sing, if they’re made to practise,’ she said, and her expression reminded Una ominously of the teacher she herself had once had.

A woman she hadn’t got on with at all.

The doorbell rang again and this time the ringing was followed by knocking.

Shit, there was a light on in the sitting room. It was too late for him to turn it off now. The curtains weren’t drawn either, which meant the visitor could walk round the corner, look in the window and see the dead man on the floor. Shit.

He had to act fast. Grabbing hold of the dead man’s limp arms and recoiling slightly at the strange feel of them, he dragged the body with frantic haste across the sitting room and into the hall, where the lights were off and there were no windows. He didn’t dare put his eye to the door’s peephole for fear that the visitor might spot the movement inside and realize that someone was there. He pushed the sitting-room door to, without quite closing it, and positioned himself so that he would see if a face appeared at the window.

His heart pounding, he tried not to think about the body lying on the floor behind him, about the man he had murdered. He tried to breathe calmly. He’d had to do it; there had been no alternative. It was just that things were turning out differently from how he’d expected.

He caught a movement out of the corner of his