The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

to herself, refusing to share it with anyone. Her parents never mentioned the subject after that day in the maternity ward when the child was born. And she never saw the baby again. The yearning she had felt since then was like a hole in her heart.
    The years had passed, and Karin had moved on with her life. She tried to convince herself that memories of those moments in the dimly lit delivery room would fade with time. She moved to Stockholm, entered secondary school, and made new friends. For many years she had no contact with her parents. What they had done seemed to her a terrible betrayal. They had refused to listen to her. They hadn’t told her that she was entitled to take six months to make up her mind, or that she wasn’t required to decide before giving birth. They had kept her out of the entire process and got away with it. She would never forgive them.
    Then had come the police academy. When she was offered a trainee position in Visby, her first impulse had been to turn it down. She didn’t want to return to Gotland or all those memories. But eventually she changed her mind. She decided that it would be better to confront the trauma she’d been through. That was the only way to get beyond it. For the first time in many years she had visited her parents at their house in Tingstäde.
    But the memory of Lydia had come back to her even more strongly. Whenever she walked around in Östercentrum, she was reminded of how she had felt when she went there with her ever-expanding stomach. How she’d had coffee with a friend, and how her friend had discovered that she was pregnant. They had been sitting in the Siesta pastry shop. Afterwards Karin had realized that the situation was untenable, that she could no longer conceal her condition. She stopped trying to hide her stomach, but she didn’t tell anyone except her parents about being raped. The shame was too much to bear.
    At least now she’d made a decision, even though she was filled withdread. She would look for her daughter. Lydia was no longer a minor; she was a grown woman. Karin could find out who she was without revealing their connection.
    Maybe she should speak to the young woman’s parents first, find out their view of the matter? One step at a time, she thought.
    One step at a time.

IT WAS AN unusually warm evening with no wind. After the opening ceremonies, there was a party at Kuten, Fårö’s most legendary restaurant, a simple but acclaimed establishment right across from the inn.
    The setting for Kuten was unique, to say the least, with a largely fifties feel to it. Originally it had been a petrol station, as evidenced by the red-painted pump that still stood on the forecourt. A Volvo PV was squeezed in between a Chevy Nova and a Cadillac from the same time period. A sign that said ‘Kuten’s Petrol’ hung above the entrance to the rather faded limestone building in which the restaurant was housed. Outside stood a row of rusty oil drums along with an old refrigerator reminiscent of the era when the Swedish welfare state was established. On the building’s façade were enamel advertising signs for Esso, Juicy Fruit, and Cuba Cola. The crowning jewel was a sickly green neon sign that said ‘Elvis’.
    An outdoor bar with a Caribbean theme, decorated with coloured lights, provided a welcome break in style, along with the hard-rock music blaring from the stage. An American band had been hired for the evening’s entertainment.
    The group of friends from Terra Nova found seats at a big table outdoors. The enticing aroma of grilled lamb drifted over the crowded restaurant.
    ‘Great,’ exclaimed Sam as he sat down. ‘What a perfect evening. Don’t you think so, sweetheart?’ He poked Andrea in the side. No one could avoid hearing the sarcasm in his voice, but Andrea pretended not to notice.
    ‘It certainly is,’ she replied, smiling at Sam. ‘Absolutely wonderful. And it’s so warm.’
    ‘It feels as if we’re in Greece or somewhere like that,’ said Beata, taking off her shawl, which offered only minimal coverage of her plunging neckline.
    She always has to show off, thought Andrea. She just can’t help it.
    Beata stretched her arms in the air and uttered a little chirping sound.
    ‘Oh, how lovely. But now I want some wine.’
    They ordered several bottles and then went to get food from the chef, who stood next to the grill, serving lamb and vegetable gratin and working so hard that he was dripping with sweat.
    Soon they