A Rip in the Veil by Anna Belfrage Read Free Book Online Page A

them now that Alex was gone. If, he reminded himself furiously, if she was gone. He followed them into the house, stepping over Magnus’ as yet unpacked suitcase.
    He walked down the passageway, stopping at every framed photo down its length. All of them were of Alex; from chubby babyhood through long legged angular pre-pubescence, to self-conscious teenager hiding her swelling chest in bulky sweaters.
    “What’s the matter?” Magnus said.
    John swallowed. “Was the conference any good?” he said instead.
    Magnus made a dismissive gesture, his bright blue eyes boring into John. “Has something happened?”
    “Yes, I’m afraid it has.” John inhaled. “Alex seems to have gone missing. Again.” He caught Magnus as he stumbled, supported him over to an armchair, and poured them both a stiff whisky before sitting down beside him.
    “How? When?” Magnus was pale, his blondish grey hair a mess after he’d run his hands through it. “Holy Matilda; you think…you think she’s been kidnapped again?”
    John took a deep gulp, savouring the burning feeling that travelled down his gullet to land in his gut. Kidnapped? None of them really knew what had happened to Alex down in Italy. She had refused to talk about it, clamming up completely whenever he tried to raise the issue. And now he’d never know. He shook himself, aware of Magnus’ eyes hanging off him.
    “Yesterday, it happened yesterday. She got caught in a lightning storm out on the moor. At least that’s what we think, and then she just…” John hid his head in his hands. “Oh God; oh God, oh God, oh God.”
    Magnus sat back, with his glass held like a lifeline in his hand.
    “She just went up in smoke; the car, all her stuff was there, but she was gone.” He wasn’t telling this well, he could see that in Magnus’ face. So John pulled up his legs, clenched his arms around them, and told Magnus everything, from the moment when he started to worry about Alex being late, to the moment Sanderson disappeared.
    “And I don’t know what to do,” he finished. “How do I go about finding her again?” His hand strayed to his pocket and the remains of her phone, still wrapped in that old piece of cloth. He pulled it out and put it on the table. “I found this, but I just don’t understand.”
    Magnus poked at it but didn’t unwrap it. Instead he walked over to the shelf where he kept his whisky and brought the bottle back with him.
    “Tell me again,” he said, once he had topped up their glasses. So John did. When he drifted to a stop Magnus bent forward and undid the little package, staring down with an aghast expression at the worn and rusted remains of his daughter’s phone.
    “She just bought it.”
    “I know,” John said, all of him trembling.
    Any further discussion at that point was interrupted by Isaac, who came to lean against Magnus, complaining that he was hungry.
    “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Magnus said, tousling Isaac’s dark hair. No, Isaac agreed seriously, his tummy hurt.
    *
    A few hours later and they were back in the study, after having fed and put Isaac to bed.
    “It’s just like with Mercedes,” Magnus said, “an inexplicable disappearance.”
    “I know. And we’ll never know what happened – just like with Mercedes.” John leaned forward to clasp Magnus’ hand hard in his. “I’m so sorry.” Magnus nodded, looking drawn.
    “Mercedes…” He raised his drink to his mouth, one quick gulp before he slammed the empty glass back down on the table. “I’m still hoping, you know?”
    “It’s been three years,” John said.
    Magnus shrugged and stared into the empty grate. “Still; I hope.” He smiled slightly, shaking his head. “Thirty years –more than that. I met her in Seville, in 1968. I was there to study Spanish, a tall gawky Swedish boy. She saw me on one of the bridges across the Guadalquivir and flirted with me. I was twenty-two. I have no idea how old she was, only that she was quite a