The Voices Beyond: (Oland Quartet Series 4) by Johan Theorin Read Free Book Online Page B

enjoyed listening to the music and watching the people.
    He was particularly pleased to see Julia dancing. She had stayed away from Öland for a long time, after her young son disappeared without a trace. Gerlof had brooded about the tragedy for many years and, eventually, he had solved the mystery. One man had ended up in prison and, at long last, Julia had been able to move on, together with a new husband and his children.
    Many of the dancers were strangers to him, but Gerlof did recognize the Kloss family, the owners of the Ölandic Resort. They were standing slightly apart, on the edge of the festival site, and they weren’t dancing. Kent Kloss often appeared in the newspaper, pontificating about the importance of tourism to the island. His younger brother, Niklas, was next to him, wearing jeans and a T-shirt.
    Their sister Veronica was there too, in a white dress, her chestnut locks flowing. Gerlof hadn’t seen her since last year, when she gave a talk about the Kloss family history in the common room up at the home in Marnäs. She had made the men in the audience – Gerlof included – smile, their eyes sparkling, even though some of them were over ninety. Veronica Kloss was tall and imposing. She could easily have stood on a palace balcony, waving to the masses.
    The children were there too today, all boys, just as suntanned as their parents.
    Bill Carlson reappeared, wandering around and clicking away in all directions with his camera. Finally, he came over to Gerlof, grinning from ear to ear.
    ‘Could anything be more Swedish than this?’
    ‘Swedish?’ Gerlof said with a little smile. ‘Don’t tell Anders Zorn or Carl Larsson, but this is a German festival.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Originally, yes. German bowmen used a maypole for target practice, before it was adorned with spring flowers. Then the German merchants brought the idea of a flower-clad pole over to Sweden … But most of our flowers don’t come out until June, so the celebration was moved back a month.’
    ‘Well, there you go,’ Bill said. ‘From warfare to flower power.’
    ‘That’s what happens sometimes.’
    ‘So you read a lot of history, Gerlof? It’s something that interests you?’
    ‘Yes. My own history and that of others.’
    Gerlof glanced over at the Kloss family again. They looked relaxed but, for them and the rest of the tourist industry, this was the weekend when everything got under way, for six weeks from midsummer onwards. Tourism on Öland was like a Bengal fire that burned only in the summer, brief but intense.
    The dancing went on for half an hour and ended with an exploding ‘rocket’. Everyone gathered around the pole, clapping their hands, stamping their feet and whooping up into the sky and jumping as high as they could to simulate a rocket. They did this three times, and then the party was over.
    The circles broke up and people started heading home. Gerlof had no responsibilities, as his daughters were taking care of everything, but he remembered his vow to be polite to strangers, and looked up at his new acquaintance, Bill from America.
    ‘Are you cycling back up to Långvik, Bill?’
    ‘Yes. Home for the smorgasbord.’
    ‘Would you care for a little something before you set off? A glass of wormwood schnapps, maybe?’
    ‘Can I take a raincheck on that?’ Bill said. ‘Strong drink goes straight to my head these days, and that road is full of potholes …’
    Gerlof nodded.
    ‘Another time, then.’
    They kept each other company part of the way along the coast, together with lots of other villagers who were on their way home. Gerlof saw girls picking daisies and speedwell by the roadside, in spite of the fact that, according to tradition, they should be picked after sunset to bring the best possible luck.
    Midsummer’s Eve was the long day when everything was supposed to happen but very little actually did. There was love in the air, the youngsters’ love for one another and the older people’s love