Shame. Part 13

Pernilla pulled out a chair and set it underneath the smoke alarm.

'I have a problem with my back, and raising my arm above my head is simply impossible.'

Monika climbed up on the chair.

'What sort of problem do you have with your back?'

An attempt to break the ice. They didn't know each other. Starting now Monika would forget everything she already knew.

'I was in an accident five years ago. A diving accident.'

Monika twisted the alarm box off the holder.

'That sounds serious.'

'Yes, it was, but I'm better now.'

Pernilla fell silent. Monika handed her the alarm. Pernilla picked out the battery and went over to the counter. When she opened the cupboard Monika glimpsed cleaning supplies and a pull-out recycling bin.

Pernilla turned round and Monika realised that she was expecting her to leave now that she had finished her task. But she hadn't finished. Not by a long shot. Monika turned to the portraits on the wall.

'What a lovely portrait of Sofia Magdalena. It was Carl Gustav Pilo who painted it, wasn't it?'

She could see that Pernilla was surprised.

'Yes, it could be. I'm not really sure.'

Pernilla went over to the portrait to check whether there was a signature, but apparently couldn't find one. She turned to Monika again.

'Are you interested in art?'

Monika smiled.

'No, not in art particularly, but in history. Especially the history of Sweden. You pick up a few artists' names in the process. I go through periods when I get almost fanatical about reading history books.'

Pernilla gave a little smile, and this time her eyes began to sparkle a bit.

'How strange. I'm really interested in history too. Mattias often used that very word. That I was almost fanatical.'

Monika stood silently, relinquishing the initiative. Pernilla looked at the portrait again.

'There's something consoling about history. Reading about all these destinies that have come and gone. At any rate it's helped me gain a little perspective on my own problems, I mean all the trouble with my back after the accident and all.'

Monika nodded with interest, as if she were actually following along. Following along intently. Pernilla looked down at her hands.

'But now I don't know.'

She paused for a moment.

'How there could be any consolation in history, I mean. Other than that he's dead like all the rest.'

Just listen. Don't try to comfort her, just listen and be there be there.

Silence. Not only because of what she had learned in her courses, but because she couldn't think of anything to say. She glanced furtively at the jumble on the refrigerator door. She wanted so badly to have a closer look. Try to find more ways into Pernilla's life.

'He had to choose between this and what he had on when he died. When he was packing, I mean.'

Pernilla stroked the big woollen jumper she was wearing. Pulled up the collar and pressed it against her cheek.

'I did a big load of laundry the day before he died. Emptied the whole laundry basket. So now I don't even have the smell of him left.'

Just listen. But they hadn't said much at those courses about how to act to be able to withstand everything you heard.

It was Daniella who rescued her. A newly awakened discontent was audible from the room next to the kitchen. Pernilla let go of the collar and left. Monika took three steps over to the refrigerator and quickly began looking through the collage. Family photos. Coupons from a pizzeria. A strip of pictures of Mattias and Pernilla from a photo booth. Several incomprehensible drawings by a child. Some clippings from a newspaper. She had barely managed to read the headline of one of them before Pernilla returned.

'This is Daniella.'

The child hid her face against her mother's neck.

'She's just woken up but she'll be wide awake soon.'

Monika went over to them and put her hand on Daniella's back.

Daniella pressed her face even harder into her hiding place.

'We'll have to say h.e.l.lo later after you've had time to wake up.'

Pernilla pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down with Daniella on her lap. Once again the feeling that she expected Monika to leave, as she had asked her to do. But Monika wanted to stay a bit longer. Stay here where it was possible for her to breathe.

'What an elegant ceramic bowl.'

She pointed to a bowl on the windowsill.

'Oh, that. I made it myself.'

'Really?'

Monika went over and took a closer look. Blue and thrown a little askew.

'Really very fine. I once took a pottery course too, but I haven't had a chance the past few years. My job takes up too much time.'

That wasn't even a lie. She had taken ceramics as an option in high school.

'That one is really crooked. I only saved it as a reminder that I had to stop ceramics when I injured my back. I just couldn't sit still very long anymore.'

Pernilla sat looking at the bowl.

'Mattias liked that one too. He said it reminded him of me. I wanted to throw it out but he absolutely insisted we keep it.'

Each time his name was spoken Monika could feel her own heartbeat. How her pulse quickened, signalling danger. Daniella had come out of her hiding place and sat looking at her. Monika smiled.

'I could take her outside for a bit if you like, so you can have a little peace and quiet. I notice there's a playground.'

Pernilla leaned her cheek against her daughter's head.

'Would you like that, sweetie? Do you want to go outside and swing a little?'

Daniella raised her head and nodded. Monika felt the panic subside. Her heart calmed down and fell back into its normal rhythm. She had pa.s.sed the first test.

Now all she had to manage was the rest.

18.

There was blood in the toilet when she peed. She had discovered it several days before, but it may have been going on for longer than that. It was a long time since her periods had stopped, so she knew it meant that something was wrong. But she couldn't deal with it. Not that too. She tried to drive it into all the whiteness, but the boundaries were no longer there. Everything that had been kept outside at a safe distance had returned and taken shape in a sharp cone of light, and it left Maj-Britt with a sadness that was too much to bear. So a little blood in her urine didn't matter much. Everything was still intolerable.

Vanja was right. The images in her memory had neither been invented nor distorted, and her black words on white paper had forced all of Maj-Britt's emotional memories to return. She was back in the midst of the terror. She had partially sensed it when it was actually happening, but she couldn't fully understand it.

Because you don't do that to your child.

Not if you love her.

That would have been easier to forget.

She stood by the balcony door and looked out across the lawn. A woman she had never seen before was pushing a child on a swing. She recognised the child. It was the girl who used to be there with her father and sometimes also with her mother, who always seemed in some sort of pain. She wondered if that was the family Ellinor had told her about, the family with the father who had died in a car crash a little while ago. She looked towards the window where she had seen the mother standing, but it was empty.

A week had pa.s.sed since everything that no longer existed had suddenly reappeared. She knew that it had happened because of Vanja. And because of Ellinor. For seven days Maj-Britt had tried giving her the silent treatment. She had come and gone but Maj-Britt hadn't said a word. She had done her ch.o.r.es but Maj-Britt had pretended she didn't exist. But she needed to know. The questions were growing stronger with each day that pa.s.sed, and now she couldn't stand living in uncertainty any longer. The terror was still strong enough, and the threat she felt from both of them was more than she could handle. How did they know each other? Why had they suddenly decided on a concerted attack? She needed to know what their plan was so that she would have a chance to defend herself. But what was it she was supposed to defend? The only thing they had achieved by forcing Maj-Britt to remember was to rob her of all incentive.

To defend something.

But she had to find out what that something was.

She heard the key in the door and then Ellinor's greeting as she hung up her jacket. Saba appeared in the bedroom doorway and went to meet her. Maj-Britt heard them greeting each other and then the sound of Saba's paws on the parquet floor when the dog went back in and lay down. Maj-Britt stood there by the window and pretended not to notice that Ellinor looked at her on her way to the kitchen. She heard her put down the shopping on the kitchen table, and at that moment she made up her mind. This time she wasn't going to get away. Maj-Britt went out in the hall, felt Ellinor's jacket to make sure that her phone was in one of the pockets. She mustn't have it on her. Because now Maj-Britt was going to find out everything that was going on.

She stood there and waited. Ellinor came out of the kitchen with a bucket in her hand and stopped when she saw her.

'Hi.'

Maj-Britt didn't reply.

'How are things?'

Ellinor waited a few seconds before she sighed and answered herself.

'Fine, thanks, how are things with you?'

She had adopted this annoying habit during the past week. Creating her own conversations instead of putting up with Maj-Britt's silence. And it was astonishing how many words that skinny girl's body could contain. Not to mention the answers she supplied on Maj-Britt's behalf. Astonishing was the word. She walked around in her deceitfulness with no shame in her body. But now there would be an end to that.

Ellinor opened the bathroom door and disappeared from view. Maj-Britt heard the bucket being filled with water. It was only three steps. Three steps and then Maj-Britt slammed the door.

'What are you doing?'

Maj-Britt leaned her whole weight against the door and watched the door handle being pressed down. But the door couldn't be budged. At least not by such a tiny creature as Ellinor, when a mountain was standing on the other side and holding it shut.

'Maj-Britt, stop it! What do you think you're doing?'

'How do you know Vanja?'

There was silence for a few seconds.

'Vanja who?'

Maj-Britt shook her head crossly.

'You can do better than that.'

'What do you mean? Vanja who? I don't know any Vanja.'

Maj-Britt stood silent. Sooner or later she would have to confess. Otherwise she'd have to stay there in the bathroom.

'Maj-Britt, open this door. What the h.e.l.l are you up to?'

'Don't swear.'

'Why not? You've locked me in the G.o.dd.a.m.n bathroom!'

So far she was only angry. But when she understood that Maj-Britt was serious, an uneasiness would come creeping in. Then she would find out what it felt like. How it was to find yourself in the midst of a piercing, paralysing fear.

And to be utterly at someone else's mercy.

'Oh ... you mean that Vanja Tyren?'

There now.

'Exactly. You're a clever idiot.'

'I don't know her, you're the one who does. Open the door now, Maj-Britt.'