Matteo loved and trusted his big sister, so he obeyed. He stayed away from them. She was the one who didn’t.

  36 Muscles

  Peter gets up early on Saturday morning, there was a frost overnight and the yard outside the window is covered by a thin and as yet undisturbed white blanket. It’s two days since the storm, and one day before the funeral, his head feels heavy with grief for Ramona, but his chest feels so light now that Maya is home again that his feet almost trip over each other, unsure whether to walk or dance. He carries his record player into the kitchen and puts on a really old record, and bakes some really good bread alone at the counter while the rest of the family sleeps. For a fleeting moment he manages to resuscitate the charade of normality again.

  But when he opens the front door to take the rubbish out, he is reminded of what the storm has left behind: broken windows in the next house, shattered fences, a storeroom door that’s been ripped off its hinges like a sheet of paper, and everywhere rubbish, rubbish, rubbish. Peter finds his bin several hundred yards down the street, and only when he has dragged it all the way back does he notice the American car parked on the other side of the street. The same one as yesterday. The man behind the wheel is wearing a cap and sunglasses, and his shoulders are too broad for the seat. “He’s not muscular, just full of muscle,” as Peter’s old coach used to say about the most dangerous madmen on opposing teams. “You don’t get a body like that at the gym, you get it from carrying wood all summer and wading through snow to the outhouse all winter.” The man is watching Peter but doesn’t move. Instead the passenger door opens and a considerably older and fatter man gets out, dressed in a battered leather jacket with a heavy gold necklace outside a knitted polo sweater. Peter’s body stiffens involuntarily, Lev can see that from a distance, he knows what effect he has on people. Peter may not hear all the rumors anymore, but even he has heard about this man. So Lev walks slowly, making Peter wait before establishing eye contact, smiling in a way that you can let yourself do when you have someone like the man in the car with you.

  “Peter Andersson? My name is Lev, I—”

  “I know who you are,” Peter interrupts, more abruptly than he intended, and hopes that his thudding heartbeat isn’t evident in his voice.

  “Oh?” Lev smiles.

  “Can I help you?” Peter hears himself say, unable to stop himself.

  Lev smiles more broadly and moves closer to Peter than Peter is comfortable with.

  “I want to thank you! You called your friends, yes? When Amat was at the NHL draft!” he says and holds out his hand. When Peter reluctantly shakes it, Lev holds it harder and longer than Peter can bear.

  “Don’t mention it,” Peter mumbles, pulling his hand away quickly.

  Lev stays where he is, far too close. There’s gentle mockery in his voice:

  “No, no, no need for modesty! The great Peter Andersson! Your name is important over there, yes? Everyone was impressed, my goodness, they were impressed that Amat knew you! Everyone was very, very impressed. A shame it didn’t help, yes?”

  Peter bites his cheek. He remembers the phone calls after the draft, with his old friends and contacts in the NHL wondering about the idiot “uncle” who called around introducing himself as Amat’s “agent” and wanting unofficial payments from the clubs that were considering drafting him.

  “Yes, a great shame,” Peter nods sternly, and feels the man’s breath. All he wants is to push him away, but he doesn’t dare.

  Lev looks him intently in the eye, then bursts into joyous laughter, then finally takes a step back and throws his arms out.

  “Well! Enough of that, yes? Is that what people say? Yes? Enough about Amat. I want to talk to you. I saw you with Teemu yesterday, at the Bearskin. I have a… how do you say? A ‘sensitive subject’ to discuss? I can’t discuss it with Teemu because he’s… well… you know, yes?”

  “No, no, I really don’t understand at all,” Peter manages to say, fairly irritably to hide the fact that he’s scared.

  Lev’s eyebrows flick upward for a fraction of a second, almost amused.

  “Teemu is a violent man. You’re diplomatic. So I’ve come to you, yes?”

  “And what sort of man are you?” Peter wonders, glancing at the man in the car.

  Lev chuckles.

  “I can be both, Peter, but I prefer to be like you, yes? We aren’t young men, no? I get up in the middle of the night to pee, I’m too old to fight, you know. But Ramona owed me money. A lot of money.”

  He falls silent, as if Peter ought to offer some sort of response to that. It’s such an obvious trap that Peter’s mouth dries out until he can barely move his tongue:

  “What’s that got to do with me?”

  Lev turns his palms up and shrugs his shoulders demonstratively.

  “Debts need to be paid, yes?”

  “How? She’s dead!” Peter replies, then realizes that this is precisely what Lev is waiting for.

  “But the Bearskin will be sold, yes?”

  It’s such a ridiculous idea that Peter can’t help exclaiming:

  “Sell the Bearskin? Are you cra— Sold to who, then?”

  Lev smiles with exaggerated warmth.

  “Me. I’ll take it. No debt anymore. Everyone wins, yes?”

  Peter’s jaw falls open slightly, long enough for a single word to tumble out:

  “So… rry?”

  Lev smiles again, a little more impatiently.

  “I get the Bearskin. No debt. No problems. I’ve had a pub before.”

  “Not in… Beartown, you haven’t run a pub here, you don’t know what you’re…,” Peter begins.

  “Drunks are the same everywhere, yes? You’ll help me?”

  It doesn’t sound like a question. Peter is less scared now, more angry.

  “Help you? With what? Can you even… how can I know… can you even prove that Ramona owed you money?”

  Lev is still smiling, but his lips harden and his teeth curl around his words:

  “We signed documents. But that doesn’t matter to people like you, yes?”

  “People like… me?”

  “Laws, rules, contracts, they only apply to people like you, yes? Your game, your rules? Perhaps you didn’t help Amat? Perhaps… the opposite? Perhaps he didn’t get drafted because of you?”

  Peter is so shocked by the sudden accusation that he forgets what they’ve been discussing, and above all forgets who he’s talking to.

  “You sent a… a… a GANGSTER to the draft to try to extort money from NHL clubs! Did you really think that was going to work?”

  Lev’s feet don’t move but he leans his head a few inches closer to Peter.

  “I want money from the club. You want money from Amat. That’s the difference, yes?”

  “I don’t want anything from Amat!”

  Lev sniggers.

  “You have a figure of speech here that I learned when I arrived, I like it a lot. ‘He always has his hand in his pocket,’ is that right? Someone generous, always ready to help others, yes?”

  “You don’t have your hand in your own pocket, your hand is in Amat’s,” Peter hisses, simultaneously taking half a step back.

  “And you, Peter? If you don’t want the boy’s money, what are you trying to find in that pocket?” Lev mocks.

  “I was trying to help him!”

  “Like you helped other boys in the Hollow? Yes? Because surely you don’t just help boys who are good at ice hockey? That would be a strange coincidence, yes? That people like you always want to be charitable when poor boys can do something for you. But I’m not a boy, Peter. And I only want what I have a right to: I get the Bearskin and I forget Ramona’s debt, yes? But perhaps I shouldn’t be talking to you? Perhaps I should talk to your wife?”

  Peter won’t be able to explain exactly what happens inside him just then, he simply explodes:

  “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING?” he roars, and to both his own and Lev’s surprise, he puts his hands on Lev’s chest so hard that the fat man stumbles backward.

  It only takes a second, but Peter could account for every hundredth part of it: the young man in the car flies out of the door, his hand is in his inside pocket, Peter has far too much time to imagine what he has in there. He raises his hands to his face, but there’s no need, Lev has already regained his balance and raised two fingers and the man behind him stops abruptly midstride. Lev calmly adjusts his leather jacket as if nothing had happened, then he turns to Peter:

  “She’s a lawyer, yes? Your wife? I signed a contract with Ramona. I have, how do you say, the letter of the law on my side. Perhaps I should have a lawyer?”

  “Get as many lawyers as you like, but don’t ever come near my family, you hear that? And you’ll never get the Bearskin, people around here will never…,” Peter says before biting his lip, the words fire out in a confusion of rage and his pulse is roaring in his ears.

  Lev waits until he falls silent, then smiles again and concludes, apparently untroubled:

  “Think about it, yes? I’ll come back! Is that what you say? No! I’ll get back to you, yes? I’ll get back to you!”

  He takes a long glance at Peter’s house. A light has come on upstairs, Kira and the children are just waking up in there, Peter’s whole body is shaking but he doesn’t get a chance to formulate a reply. Lev is already getting into the American car, the man behind the wheel is in no hurry as he pulls away, but as soon as the car is out of sight Peter takes out his phone without knowing who to call. He stands there, his fists heavy, his head empty, until in the end he calls Teemu.

  * * *

  Not the police and not his friends. Teemu. That’s how closely everything and everyone in Beartown are connected this autumn.

  * * *

  Maya rolls out of bed, pulls an old green hooded top over her head, and hurries sleepily out of her room. Her mother is sitting at a makeshift desk in the hall, she’s only just up but already in the middle of a video call with some client or employee, the storm has turned her whole business upside down, and obviously that’s exactly what she needed, Maya thinks: more stress. In the kitchen Leo has his head so far inside the fridge that he seems to think he’ll find a witch and a lion on the other side. The whole house smells of freshly baked bread.

  “Who’s been baking?” Maya wonders in surprise.

  “Dad,” Leo says, as if it wasn’t the weirdest thing he could possibly have said.

  “Dad?” Maya repeats.

  “Mmm. He bakes. He’s like, obsessed,” her little brother replies.

  Maya glances out of the kitchen window and sees him. He’s standing by the mailbox. A car stops in the street and out steps a man Maya recognizes, she just can’t imagine him in the company of her dad.

  “Is that…Teemu?” she exclaims.

  “Mmm,” Leo confirms with a quick look out of the window before he returns to the fridge.

  “With… Dad?”

  “Mmm. They’re friends now, I think.”

  Maya stares at Leo, then out of the window, then at Leo again.

  “Okay, sorry, but HOW long have I actually been asleep?”

  * * *

  Teemu gets out of the car and looks around, not as if he’s looking for something but more like he’s memorizing things.

  “So Lev was here?” he says, getting straight to the point.

  Peter is holding two mugs of coffee and hands one to Teemu, a mug that’s been washed so often that the green bear is barely visible now. Teemu nods gratefully as he takes it.

  “He says Ramona owed him money. I don’t know how much, but we must be able to repay it if…”

  Teemu shakes his head, not angry, just cold.

  “He doesn’t want money. He wants the Bearskin. He tried to buy it off her when she was alive. Lev does a lot of shit, shit you don’t want to know anything about. He needs legal cover, and there’s no better cover than a pub.”

  “So why did Ramona borrow money from HIM, then?” Peter says, and immediately regrets the accusatory tone.

  Teemu sighs into his coffee.

  “One of my guys ended up in prison last winter. His mom couldn’t afford to pay the rent and the bills, so Ramona gave me everything that was in the Fund. I didn’t know she…”

  He drinks some coffee. Says no more. It’s the first time Peter can ever remember seeing Teemu ashamed.

  “She used her own money?”

  “Yes.”

  “What was he in prison for? Your friend?” Peter asks.

  “Aggravated assault,” comes the reply.

  Now Peter’s the one who feels ashamed. Because this is evidently the company he keeps these days.

  “What are we going to do about Lev?” he sighs.

  “You’re not going to do anything. The trash bandits aren’t the sort of people you want to argue with, believe me.”

  Peter is surprised by the force of his response.

  “So he can just come here and threaten my family? Take the Bearskin? Ramona would never…”

  Teemu raises one hand to stop him.

  “I’ll take care of Lev.”

  “I thought you said…”

  Teemu finishes his coffee and hands the mug back.

  “I said they’re not the sort of people YOU want to argue with.”

  Peter fumbles for something to say when he suddenly realizes what he’s started:

  “Okay. But be careful, don’t start…”

  “You want ME to be careful?” Teemu declares theatrically as if he’s deeply insulted, and Peter groans and almost hits himself on his temples with the coffee mugs.

  “Okay, okay. See you tomorrow at the funeral, then? An hour before, like we agreed with the priest?”

  Teemu nods and promises, and Peter doesn’t ask any more, he’ll just have to live with that. When he turns to walk back to the house Teemu calls out curiously:

  “What did Lev say that made you this angry?”

  “What do you mean, angry?” Peter grunts.

  Teemu grins.

  “You’re trying to act calm but your eyes are totally dark. You don’t care that much about the Bearskin. What did he say?”

  “He… mentioned Kira.”

  Teemu lets loose a low, triumphant laugh that goes on far longer than Peter would like. Then the hooligan says to the former general manager:

  “People might not believe it of you, Mr. Perfect, but there’s a bit of dog in you after all.”

  37 Mules

  Johnny yawns and glances irritably at the time. He’s standing outside the house swearing in the dawn light because the workmate who promised to drive him to Beartown to pick up the van is late. Ted has already packed all his things and is waiting in the hall, while his big brother, Tobias, hasn’t even woken up yet, obviously. Tess is helping their youngest brother, Ture, to pack his skates, then she puts rice cakes and cartons of juice in the outside pocket and makes him promise not to open them until after training. He’ll have to wait in the rink for several hours while his brothers train and Tess herself is coaching the youngest children from Hed how to figure skate. That’s just what it’s like being part of a family that spends more of its time on the ice than off it.

  “Have you got everything? I got a call from work, I have to…,” their mother says behind her, and Tess looks at her anxiously.

  “You look exhausted, Mom. Shouldn’t you stay at home?”

  “We’ve got so many people off sick, and others are having to stay at home to clear up after the storm, so I really have to…”

  “You need to get some sleep tonight, Mom! Promise!”

  Hannah whispers to her daughter:

  “I promise, darling. Look after your brothers now… you know how things can get over in Beartown…”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. It’s only hockey training.”

  “Sure. Sure. ‘Only.’ And sorry, it really isn’t your job, darling, you should just… God, you should only have to worry about yourself. I haven’t even asked how your math test went!”

  “I got them alright.”

  “Of course you did. That’s incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten everything right on a test in my entire life. Are you sure you’re my daughter?”

  It’s an old joke but Tess’s laughter feels new every time. She really is too good for this family, Hannah thinks. High grades in all subjects, never gets in any trouble, looks after her brothers. She never even used to get dirty when she was little, the only child who could go to school in white clothes and come home with them the same color. While other children climbed trees and had fights in muddy puddles, she sat at home and read books. Even her hair always looks freshly brushed, in contrast to her mom’s, which always looks like someone has put a scouring pad through a document shredder.

  “I love that you’re growing up, but I hate you growing up,” her mother whispers.

  “Don’t be silly.” Her daughter smiles.

  “You should… you know, you shouldn’t have to take everything so seriously all the time. You should be going to parties, meeting boys…”

  “Boys? In Hed? You have to spend three months investigating people’s family trees before you dare go on a date with anyone here,” Tess giggles.