Page 64 of The Ice Angels

Swann dipped his hand into his jacket pocket. He opened his palm to reveal the small wooden doll. “It’s a bit premature, taking it from the property department, but I don’t think we’ll need it now.”

“Thank you,” Elea whispered. She felt like an outsider as she approached her daughter. But that was OK—time was finally on their side. “I’ve got something for you.” Elea delivered a weak smile as she reached out her hand. “Here. It’s yours.”

“How did you...” Liisa accepted the small wooden doll, examining it under the light.

“I told you,” Elea said. “I never gave up.” Now the doll had made it full circle and was back where it belonged.

Things might not be perfect, but it was a start.

Chapter 70

Liisa

Iam ready for this meeting. It’s only been three weeks, but my head is in a better space. It’s still going to take time, but already I feel like I’m over the worst. I’m sitting in Helen’s living room, which has an autumnal vibe, despite it being winter. The cottage is filled with the warmth of the old log burner, but it doesn’t emit even a puff of smoke. The inglenook fireplace is spotless, with stacks of timber on each side. There are candles on the hearth, and tiny string lights that glow as soon as it gets dark. The sofas are clean, deep and squishy, with plump orange cushions and soft, freshly laundered throws. The carpet is a thick hazelnut pile, and the wooden beams above my head are cobweb-free. There are no cluttered ornaments here; everything in this room has been carefully thought out. Helen used to be an interior designer and has travelled all over the world. She and Grandmother Hilma get on so well that they might as well be sisters. Helen’s cottage has four bedrooms, enough space for us all. I think she’s been lonely since her husband died. We haven’t worn out our welcome yet.

I’ve enjoyed being in all-female company—they’re happy to let me just be. In the evenings I sit quietly and knit as they chat and giggle over glasses of wine. I won’t eat fish, and I can’t stand the smell of liquorice, but some domestic habits are hard to let go. Helen said that I’m too young to be a homemaker, but I have no aspirations to do anything else yet. Sometimes I’ll feed the horses in the back fields, my thoughts with Kukka. Mother did some digging into her whereabouts. What she discovered was a gift that she did not need to wrap. Kukka was found loose in town and taken to an animal shelter. They took one look at the scar on her neck and believed that she’d been abused. They didn’t search too hard for her owner, and she was later rehomed. A nice lady named Jakki still has her, and she’s even sent me photos. Kukka’s whiskers are grey, her back slightly sunken, but she has had a happy life. The note I attached to her head-collar must have got lost in the snow.

I was angry with Mama after she admitted to killing Mikael. But part of him was Anu, too. I grieved for the little boy that he once was. For the stupid loss of life. For my Ice Angel twin. If only he hadn’t let Johanna influence him. Why didn’t he go quietly with my mother when he was found in the woods, crying over Johanna’s grave? Why pull his gun? My emotions concerning him are confusing, veering from attachment, to pity, to hate. I still use his names interchangeably. Had it not been for Johanna’s sister Katariina, we might not have got away. Mitch has kept me informed about the details of the investigation. Katariina’s husband recently died in prison of a heart attack after serving time for forgery. I knew Anu could not have got the passports on his own. Perhaps Katariina wanted rid of us after her sister passed away. Johanna’s body was too badly composed for a definitive cause of death, but my gut tells me that Anu helped Johanna on her way.

The girl taken before me was called Venla. Police found her buried in the earth under the hole. To think, all that time, she had been beneath us. I can’t dwell on such a thing. The reality of the situation is grotesque. Johanna turned Anu into a monster. Police are still looking for other graves.

Grandmother has taught me meditation. It was difficult to live with my thoughts, but I am slowly finding peace. Silence is often my friend. The police have finished asking questions; they are satisfied with my account. The Ice Angels case is closed. Mother has tried speaking to Maria, but she won’t have anything to do with Mama now. I managed one long phone call, told Maria the bits that she’d needed to hear. Maria told me she’s struggling to stay sober because she blames herself for everything. I said there’s no point in looking back, because, in the end, Anu went home. At least Maria saw him one last time. But the boy she lost wasn’t there anymore. Johanna changed him. Maria has asked if she can come and visit. I’ve managed to put her off for now. We are linked, she and I. I’ve promised to see her when I’m well enough to travel again.

I can’t describe how I feel about Mama because my emotions have been hard to figure out. Perhaps our bond was so strong that I thought nothing would break it. Maybe deep down I’m scared of getting that close to her again. I straighten on the sofa at the sound of a car pulling up on Helen’s drive. Grandmother’s eyes are alight, full of love and hope. Helen glances my way as she stands to go to the door. She is anxious but happy, after orchestrating this meeting. She and Hilma look so alike. She feels like family, even though she’s not. “Are you ready?”

“We’re ready,” I say, because I am not alone. I look down at my daughter, sitting next to me on the couch. My Bekka. My rock. My reason for doing everything that Anu asked. He didn’t need Kukka, not when he had our child. She is five, so bright and inquisitive. Every day she asks me questions. After every explanation I give, she responds with a “Why?” She is a happy soul, despite her background. If it wasn’t for Bekka, I don’t think I’d be alive today. Anu would have disposed of me just like the others, when it didn’t “work out” or when I wasn’t the “right fit.” He would never have abandoned his search for his child bride. Johanna had carved her strange obsessions into him, shaping his warped desires. Superstition drove Anu’s actions as he repeated her same patterns, taking children of the same age at the same time, trying to replicate what Johanna had described as the happiest time of her life. But deep down, Anu must have known that it was wrong. I was nothing more than a cook and a cleaner, the mother of his child. It was agony each time he took Bekka away from me. If it wasn’t for the texts found on his phone, I wouldn’t have had her back in my arms so quickly. Anu had made things very clear: call the police and I’d never see my daughter again. When he died, he took her whereabouts with him.

Mr. and Mrs. Marshall were an elderly couple from Langworth, who asked no questions when my daughter was left in their care. They were well paid for their discretion, and Anu used Bekka as a bargaining tool. He was capable of anything. I had to put Bekka first. But still I’d been making plans. Teaching myself how to use the computer. Trying to work out how I could get us both away. My earlier email to the women’s refuge absolved my involvement in the crimes. I told them I was a victim of abuse. Asked if they could take Bekka and me in. Wrote that she’d been removed from me time and time again. That small, simple email told a story of its own.

Now she’s here by my side and I can’t quite believe it. We’re safe. We’re free. The front door is opened, and I fix Bekka’s hair. Her plaits are like the ones Mummu used to braid for me. She’s wearing blue dungarees and a pretty pink top underneath. No ill-fitting home-made clothes for her, apart from the occasional knitted scarf.

Mama’s wearing a soft wool coat, her arms laden with gift bags: dolls, books, clothes; she rests the bags on the floor as she takes us both in. She doesn’t push forward, respecting my space. God, I’ve been so mean. I open my arms for a hug. It’s quick and functionary, a baby-step towards where we need to be. She is breathless with happiness as she breaks away.

“And who is this?” she asks, despite knowing of Bekka’s existence weeks ago.

Swann wanted me to be the one to tell her, but I let him break the news. I was scared that Mama would feel disgusted, seeing a reminder of my captor. I need not have worried. She couldn’t wait to meet my little girl. I’ve punished her by making her stay away, and lingering guilt blooms inside me. My therapist said it’s natural to direct my feelings of anger and frustration towards the person closest to me.

I force feeling into a smile, because Mama deserves more. “This is Bekka.”

I watch as Elea kneels. “Well, you are so beautiful.” Her eyes are moist with tears, and she sniffs, trying to force them away.

“Mummy?” Bekka whispers, suddenly shy as she points to the bags. “Are they for me?”

“They are.” I touch her shoulder reassuringly. “But say thank you first, like I taught you.”

Bekka smiles at my mother, filled with delight and innocence that I wish she could keep forever. “Kiitos, Mummo.” Her thumb reaches her mouth, and I allow it. She’s had a lot to deal with, too. It won’t be easy when she learns of her family history, but for now Bekka brings joy to everyone she encounters. Anu insisted that she spoke only English, because he didn’t want her to stand out. Now she’s picking up the language quickly and we’re arranging for her to attend a primary school in Nettleham.

“You speak Finnish, too? How clever!” Mother’s eyes widen in amazement. “Can I have a hug?”

Bekka checks with me first. I smile and nod. She walks shyly into Mother’s open arms. Mama closes her eyes at the joy of finally meeting her granddaughter in the flesh. Grandmother clasps her hands together, while Helen wipes away a happy tear. I slip my hand into my pocket and clasp my small wooden doll. We’re here, we’re together, and that’s the best I can hope for today.

Chapter 71

The air nipped at Elea’s cheeks as she walked to the post office on the High Street. The grey sky pressed low over the streets of Lincoln, but Elea’s heart was filled with light. Her breath came in visible puffs as she clutched the small parcel in her hand. Her gloved fingers gripped it tightly as if it might evaporate, along with the promise that she had made.

The small city moved around her in its usual rhythm, a steady stream of cars snaking their way through the streets. She inhaled the sharp tang of petrol fumes as she waited for the beep of the pedestrian crossing. Such pauses in her day used to frustrate her. She was always rushing, her nerves raw as she hunted down her daughter’s kidnapper. Now the world felt entirely new, her body and mind fully relaxed for the first time in years. The strain she’d carried for more than a decade had been replaced by pure, unadulterated joy. Her feet carried her to the post office, where she pushed open the heavy door. She welcomed the sudden warm air, which tingled her skin and brought the tips of her fingers back to life. The sturdy woman behind the counter wore large, round glasses that magnified deep-brown eyes.

“I’d like to post this to Helsinki, please, first-class,” Elea said, placing the precious parcel on the scales.

The woman smiled, taking it from beneath the Perspex.

“What does it contain?”

“A tubed cigar,” Elea replied, her words catching in her throat. This was just another package to the postal worker. She had no idea of the meaning behind this small, seemingly insignificant parcel. Elea’s heart fluttered as she watched the woman print a label and affix it with care. She thought of her colleague Niall opening it, and of his pleasure at joining in the celebration of her daughter’s return. He would handle Liisa’s story with care.

“Anything else?”

Elea blinked. “Sorry...yes, I have this to post: recorded delivery, please.” She pulled the envelope from her shoulder bag. This hadn’t warranted being carried in her hands. It did not bring any spark of joy, but itdidbring closure. She slipped it beneath the glass. She could have dropped it straight into Swann’s solicitor or even given it to Swann himself, but it felt better to distance herself in this way. “That’s it, thanks.” The signed divorce papers were finally on their way.

She felt lighter as she left the post office and wrapped her scarf in a loop around her neck. The world hadn’t changed. Lincoln was still bustling, the sky still heavy above her, the wind still sharp. But, for Elea, everything was different. She pushed her hands into her pockets and allowed herself a smile.