The Voices Beyond: (Oland Quartet Series 4) Read Online Free PDF Page B

medieval, but
modern
at the same time. Made of stone, or railway sleepers. And I want the pipework
under
the wall, not next to it. Good … Has the digger arrived?’ He listened again. ‘Fantastic! In that case, we can … Hello?’ He lowered the mobile. ‘Lost the connection – typical.’
    Uncle Kent had certain favourite words, like ‘typical’ and ‘fantastic’. He imbued them with an energy and self-confidence that Jonas could never manage, whatever he said.
    Kent slipped his mobile into his pocket and said, ‘Shall we take the boat out when we arrive?’
    ‘Sure,’ Jonas’s dad agreed at once. ‘As long as it’s not too rough out there.’
    Uncle Kent laughed.
    ‘Motorboats like waves, they just jump over them! We’ll take a little trip, then we can have a Cosmo on the decking.’
    Niklas nodded, but he didn’t look particularly happy.
    ‘OK.’
    Jonas had no idea what a Cosmo was, but he didn’t ask. The trick when it came to looking grown up was to listen and to
look
as if you knew exactly what was going on. And to laugh along with everyone else.
    Kent glanced in the rear-view mirror.
    ‘We’re going to get you up on those skis this summer, JK. All right? Things didn’t go too well a couple of years ago, as I recall …’
    He always called Jonas by his initials, JK.
    ‘I’ll give it a go,’ Jonas said.
    He didn’t really want to think about water-skiing. He didn’t want to think about that summer either, when his father had just started serving his sentence and Jonas and Mats had come to Öland on their own.
    He could see the expanse of the Sound now; they had reached the village and were passing the kiosk and the restaurant. They turned left on to the coast road, with the ridge on one side of the car and houses on the other.
    Jonas hadn’t managed to get up on his skis once that summer. Uncle Kent must have tried to pull him up with the line from the motorboat at least fifteen times; Jonas had coughed up water and clung to the handle so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but he always ended up pitching forward after just a few metres. In the evenings, his legs had felt like spaghetti.
    ‘You’re not going to give it a go, JK, you’re going to
do it
! You’re much tougher this year. How old are you now?’
    ‘Twelve,’ Jonas said, although his birthday wasn’t until August. He glanced at his brother, afraid of a scornful correction, but Mats was gazing out at the water and didn’t appear to be listening.
    They had arrived. The summer place was known as Villa Kloss, even though it consisted of two houses side by side, with huge panoramic windows overlooking the sea. Aunt Veronica and the cousins lived in the north house, Uncle Kent in the south.
    Jonas’s father no longer had a house of his own. They would be staying in the guest chalets.
    ‘Twelve years old, that’s the best time of your life,’ Kent said as the Corvette swung into his drive. ‘You’re totally free. You’re going to have a
fantastic
summer here, JK!’
    ‘Mmm,’ said Jonas.
    But he didn’t feel free. Just small.

Gerlof
    Gerlof met the Swedish-American on the way to the dance.
    He was late, leaning on his chestnut walking stick and making his way along the coast road as quickly as he could. He wouldn’t be dancing around the maypole himself, of course, but he enjoyed listening to the music. Midsummer came along only once a year, after all.
    The problem was that he had forgotten something – two things, in fact – which was why he was late. His daughters and grandchildren were waiting for him, but when he got to the bottom of the steps and was standing in the garden, he couldn’t hear any birds singing in the treetops.
    The device.
He wasn’t used to it yet.
    ‘I’ll go and get it,’ his daughter, Julia, said.
    She was carrying a small folding chair for Gerlof, but she put it down and went back indoors. A minute later she reappeared and handed over the small plastic ear buds.
    ‘Do you mind