Chapter 30
Liisa
“I want to go home,” I say quietly. “I don’t want to get married.” My voice cracks. “I want my mother.”
We’ve been sitting at the table for so long that the food has gone cold.
It feels like a test. As if they’re waiting for me to run.
Mikael watches me cooly, the same way I imagine him quietly watching the forest animals before they step into one of his traps.
I jump as Johanna brings her meaty fist down onto the table.
“I am your mother now!” Her brown teeth flash.
“Smile, because this is a good day. You will get married. Isn’t that something all little girls dream about?
This isn’t easy for me, you know!” She begins to cough.
It’s this horrible hacking sound. Mikael goes to jump up from the table, but she shakes her head.
I’ve heard her cough many times, but not like this.
She presses a tissue to her mouth and droplets of bright-red blood bloom.
It’s more than the smoke from the chimney causing this.
It’s her illness. What makes you cough up blood?
I push aside my panic to work it out. Lungs?
Lung cancer? I glance at Mikael for some silent reassurance, but he looks away, unconcerned.
We sit and wait for the awful hacking sound to pass.
At last it stops. Johanna shudders, red-faced and sweating as she regains her breath.
She pulls her cardigan around her, a brown, smelly home-made thing with holes in the elbows.
I think about what she’s said as the fire crackles and spits in the fireplace.
I’ve seen her making garlands, working fake off-white flowers into some kind of crown.
During her last shop she bought all sorts of things: ribbons, flowers, wire.
Then there are the nights when I’ve heard her messing about on her sewing machine.
Now it makes sense. She’s planning everything out.
Why is she so weird? How did she even have a child of her own?
I’ve wondered about Mikael’s father, but have never been brave enough to ask.
Johanna pours herself another cup of coffee and slowly sips.
Mikael mirrors her movements, and I do the same.
She dabs her eyes and normal colour slowly returns to her face.
“I will make your wedding dress, and you will be beautiful. Everything will be as it should be.’ She pauses to take another sip.
“I will teach you how to cook properly. How to look after the house, and you will love my boy.”
My mind races ahead. Johanna has always been dangerous—too dangerous for me to escape.
If I wait until she dies and then it is just Mikael, I might be able to get away.
I wonder how much longer she has left. Her eyes narrow.
I have to say something, otherwise I will feel her rough palm against my cheek.
“Sorry that you are sick.” It’s the best I can come up with.
Mother told me that sometimes in life you have to tell people what they want to hear, even if it’s not the truth. I doubt she meant a moment like this.
“Yes, well. God has plans for us all.” Johanna’s large bosom heaves up and down as she takes a deep breath.
There are crucifixes in this house, nailed to the walls and hung around her neck.
But she is not a good person. Nothing makes any sense.
She nods towards the window. “That world out there is wicked and evil. You’re better off here with us. ”
I want to scream. I want to shout, but instead I dry my tears and focus on what I can take from this.
Johanna is dying. She controls us all. Without her—well, without her I might have a chance of getting away.
I’m not getting “married” yet. Not until I get my period and .
. . well, that’s never going to happen, as I won’t tell her when I do.
I breathe. This might work. This could be worse.
I hope she dies soon. But then I look at Mikael and I don’t know if I can trust him.
I’ve always been scared of us being left alone. So far, Johanna keeps a watchful eye.
“Well, that’s that out of the way.” Her coarse voice breaks the silence, making me jump. “You can wash up, change into your clothes. I’ll show you how to make the lovely food that you’ve had today. But first . . .”
She stands behind us and my shoulders rise an inch. I watch in horror as she picks up Mikael’s hand from across the table and lays it on mine. I almost snatch my hand away. The feeling of his cold skin is repulsive. But Johanna seizes my wrist, her dirty, stubby nails pinching me.
“Don’t be shy,” she chuckles darkly. “There must be a courtship before the wedding. You can start by holding hands.”
Mikael squeezes my fingers, and I want to throw up every scrap of food. But Johanna is standing behind me and I know for sure now that this is a test. At the back of my mind, I remember something they said in the car. That I wasn’t the first. That it had to work out this time or . . .
I freeze, head down, hair shadowing my face. Johanna laughs, saying something about me being shy. I don’t want to see Mikael’s expression. I just want to come out of this alive.