Chapter 9

I awoke at dawn, which in mid February is about seven, so I had time for a shower and breakfast before the taxi containing David arrived. The journey was uneventful. As the train sped from Stockholm to Vasteras, I was intrigued, not so much by the red painted houses as by the feeling that this was all somehow familiar. I wondered if I had spent any time as a child or youth in Sweden.

The hotel was comfortable and the staff efficient and attentive, and in the case of the receptionist strikingly beautiful. She was almost a caricature of a Swedish beauty, ash blond hair, deep blue eyes and a statuesque figure. She had a face that demanded to be gazed at in wonder and this we dutifully did.

She was clearly used to the treatment and smiled indulgently as she took us through the registration process in wonderfully lilting English. She did not react in any way to my appearance which sent her up in my estimation. At this point there came another revelation.

She turned and spoke to another woman behind the desk and when she turned back I thanked her and asked her where the lift was.

"Turn left along that corridor and you'll find it on your left."

"Thank you."

"You speak good Swedish. Do you come from Stockholm?" she said in English.

At this point I stopped dead and looked puzzled. David laughed.

"He didn't know he could speak Swedish!" he told the girl, "and I don't think he realised he was speaking it! He's had a bad accident and lost his memory."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I can see you have suffered a lot," she said, this time I knew it was Swedish.

"Your eyes are quite beautiful, so kind and deep. Perhaps your parents spoke Swedish at home? Your accent is very good."

I stammered that I didn't know, but that they were Swedish.

"Well," she said, "if there's anything you need, ask for Greta."

"That's my daughter's name."

"Oh, you have a wife and family?"

"A family and an ex-wife."

"I'm sorry. Anything you want, anything, just ask."

David asked what we'd been talking about, and when I relayed the conversation he nudged my arm as we ascended in the lift.

"You're in there!" he laughed. "When she said anything, she meant anything! I could tell by her expression and the tone of voice!"

"Patricia," I said solemnly, giving him a hard look.

"Point taken," but he laughed again, "It just that I would have thought that Greta is the chance of a lifetime."

"Trish is the chance for a lifetime," I replied in a lighter tone. "She's more than enough for me."

"That's what the three of us were saying about you before we met you at the pub. You are not the cheating kind of man. You are one of the faithful ones. I still think it's in your genes."

We arrived at our rooms and I invited him in for a nightcap and a plan of action for the morning. Our PI, Mr Hultmann, had already asked if we could see Mrs Alsvik the next day, so we needed to phone to arrange a time. David did this and we were set to meet her in the lobby of the hotel at 10.30. She had taken the day off work, for which David thanked her profusely.

When he rang off we discussed tactics for the meeting.

"What's the best approach, d'you think?" asked David.

"Well, you're the lawyer. I thought you were trained in this sort of thing."

"OK," said David decisively. "We could ask her what she remembered of the day and take it from there."

"She probably won't recognise me. If she's responsible for my beating up we need to be careful."

"So we give her the chance to tell us what she knows, then ask questions gently. I think we can find out quite a lot. We should wait to reveal who you are until we know more."

I thought that was sensible. So we finished our drinks and retired to bed.

After breakfast the next morning, I went for a walk alone through the snow. It did not seem very cold, and indeed it wasn't – for Sweden, about the same as at home, except for the snow. I returned refreshed and knocked on David's door. He was ready and had paper, pen and recorder.

"I won't use them unless she's cooperative," he said. "Any statement she makes on paper could be useful though."

We sat in the lobby and waited, the photo in front of us. David saw her first and went to meet her, bringing her over.

"If you don't mind, Mrs Alsvik, I won't introduce my friend for the moment. You'll soon realise why. Can you humour me?"

"Yes, of course. Now how may I help you?"

"It's initially a missing person enquiry. I'm the gentleman's lawyer and I've got to get as much information together as I can for a court case. You were in York at the end of August just over two years ago?"

"That would be during the races? Yes."

"I have a photograph of a CCTV record showing you with someone. Can you tell me anything about him?" He showed her the photo.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

"You remember him?"

"Yes, and he is not my favourite person. He was so good and he said he would keep in touch and – nothing. I tried his mobile after one then two weeks, but it was not in operation."

"Can you tell me the story? It would help me a great deal, and may I record it?"

She nodded and began. "We had been in York for a week on holiday. Well, half holiday, half a little work for Lorenz, he is my husband. Lorenz had to see a client for an hour, while I checked out of the hotel.

"Allan, the man in the photo, heard me give my name and he asked me, in Swedish, if I was one of the Vasteras Alsviks, and did I know the Jonssons? Of course my maiden name was Jonsson as well, and it turned out he was a cousin of mine. We were both checking out of the hotel, so after doing that we went for a coffee – that's the picture you have there. We had just met.

"He wanted to know why the families had lost touch, and I was able to give him the sad history of our grandfathers falling out; they were brothers.

"Well, suddenly I realised I had to get to the station or we would miss our train. Lorenz was nowhere to be seen. Allan gave me his mobile phone to call him. He, Lorenz that is, told me to go to the station and we would meet there.

"Allan said he was going to the station as well, so we went together. Then I had a thought. Lorenz had the credit cards, and I could not book the train to London. Allan was wonderful; he offered to buy the tickets for us.

"So I hugged him, that's the second photo. Then we got a taxi to the station and he bought the tickets for us. I asked him to call or write and gave him our address and email address and phone number. He promised.

"At the last minute Lorenz arrived and we rushed to the train and got on board. We had gone out of the station when I realised that we had not repaid him. We still haven't. I did not get his address, only his cell phone number. Does that help? I cannot think how."