Shame. Part 20

Pernilla had climbed out on the other side with Daniella in her arms. She had fallen asleep on the way and her head was resting against Pernilla's shoulder.

'You take the urn. I don't want to leave it in the car.'

It had sounded more like an order than a question, and either way it left Monika with no choice. She looked at the white box through the window.

Come on. I can't walk myself, as you well know.

'Which door is it? Daniella's getting a little heavy for my back.'

Monika slowly went round the car and opened the pa.s.senger door.

'It's number four over there.'

Pernilla started walking.

Monika's hands shook as she reached for the box. She lifted it carefully and locked the car with a b.u.t.ton on her key. She followed Pernilla with the box held out in front of her, as far from her as she could without looking too strange. But when she had to go through the door and also hold it open for Pernilla, she was forced to hold it with one arm, tight to her body, almost in an embrace. The little resistance that was left inside her was sucked towards the box as if into a black hole. She felt a pressure across her chest. She could hardly breathe. She shouldn't have invited them over; she had to do something to get out of this, anything at all.

'What a lovely flat.'

Monika was standing inside the front door and didn't know where to put him. The hall floor didn't seem suitable, but she had to put him down somewhere so she could breathe again. She hurried into the living room and looked around. First she went over to the bookshelf but changed her mind and continued to the table instead. Her hands released their grip and she sat him next to the pile of history books and the new ceramic fruit bowl.

She saw that Pernilla had followed her and was laying Daniella on the sofa. She grimaced when she straightened up and tried to stretch out her back.

'What a great place.'

Monika tried to smile and went back out to the hall. Exhausted, she took off her jacket and then went out to the kitchen, leaning her hands on the kitchen worktop. She closed her eyes and tried to get control of the nausea she felt. Everything was spinning inside, and she felt dangerously close to the boundary that she had so successfully managed to avoid. The one that prevented her from breaking into bits completely. With an effort of will she managed to take out the ca.s.serole and turn off the oven.

She saw through the doorway into her study that Pernilla was examining the old map she had bought that afternoon, which had now replaced what usually hung on the same nail. She went over to the refrigerator and took out the big plastic water bottle and the salad she had prepared. Then she sank onto one of the chairs at the table.

She couldn't utter a word. Not even announce that dinner was ready. But Pernilla appeared of her own accord after looking round the flat and went to sit at the other side of the table. She felt Pernilla looking at her, felt the terror of not being good enough in her eyes.

'How are you feeling?'

She nodded and tried to smile again. But Pernilla didn't give up.

'You look a little pale.'

'I didn't sleep well last night. Actually I'm feeling a little sick.'

The white box was like a magnet in the living room. With each breath she was aware of its presence.

I want to eat dinner too! Can you hear me out there? I want to be included!

'What was it you wanted to tell me?'

Pernilla had begun to serve herself from the ca.s.serole. Monika tried to remember the answer to her question. Her head was spinning. She gripped the chair cushion she was sitting on in an attempt to make it stop.

'Did you call the programme?'

Pernilla poured water into Monika's gla.s.s.

'Have some water. You're really pale. You're not going to faint, are you?'

Monika shook her head.

'There's no danger of that, I just felt a bit tired all of a sudden.'

She was so close to the boundary now. So dangerously close. She had to see to it that Pernilla got out of here. She couldn't show herself as weak. How could she be of any help, if Pernilla was the one who had to take care of her? Pernilla would reject her, no longer have any use for her.

She swallowed.

'They said they wanted to help you, so I tried to pressure them and asked them to give us some money since it was so urgent. I drove over there with all your papers so they could see for themselves, told them about your accident and all the trouble with the insurance that didn't cover it.'

She took a sip of water. She had thought that this would be a solemn moment. A great stride forward in their friendship. Now she just wanted to get it over with so that she could take a couple of sleeping pills and escape.

'So are they going to come up with any money?'

Monika nodded and took another swallow of water. Just a little one, the risk was great that it would come right back up.

'You're going to get nine hundred and fifty-three thousand.'

Pernilla dropped her fork.

'Kronor?'

Monika did her best to smile but was unsure of the result.

'Is that true?'

She nodded again.

The reaction she had so longed for bloomed on Pernilla's face. For the first time she saw genuine joy and grat.i.tude. Words came tumbling out of her mouth as fast as the impact of the news sank in.

Monika felt nothing.

'But that's utterly fantastic. Are you sure they were serious? That means we can stay in the flat and I can pay off the loan. Are you really sure they meant it, seriously? Well, I don't know how I can ever thank you for this.'

Do you know, Monika? Do you know how she could thank you for this? Considering everything you've done for her?

Monika got up.

'Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.'

She braced herself against chair backs and door frames on her way to the bathroom, and with the door locked she just stood there. Leaning against the sink she looked at her own face until the reflection dissolved and turned into that of a monster. She was so close now. So dangerously close. The darkness lay just below the surface, vibrating. Pressing against the thin membrane and finding small holes. She had to confess. She had to go out to Pernilla and confess her guilt. That it was all her fault. If she didn't do it now she would never be able to do it. Then her lies would have to go on forever. And she would always have to live with the terror of being unmasked.

At that moment the telephone rang. Monika stood there and let it ring. But then there was a tentative knock on the bathroom door.

'Monika. There's a call for you. She didn't say her name.'

Monika took a deep breath and opened the door to take the cordless phone that Pernilla handed to her. She wasn't sure her voice would hold.

'Yes, this is Monika.'

'Hi, it's se. I don't want to bother you if you have company, but I just have a brief question.'

In a flash the membrane was intact again and what had leaked out was in safe custody on the other side. Her first impulse was to pull the door shut behind her, but the need to see Pernilla's face took precedence. To see whether she reacted, recognised the voice of the woman who with her deep guilt had visited her flat. Pernilla had sat down at the table again, and all Monika could see was her back.

'That's all right, it's a good friend who came over for dinner.'

At any rate she had resumed eating. Monika desperately tried to tell herself that was a good sign.

'Well, the fact is, my daughter Ellinor is working as a home help and she needs your help. As a doctor. I know she wouldn't ask if it weren't important. I just wonder if it's okay if I give her your number so she can ring you. She needs to get in touch with a doctor who might consider making a house call to one of her clients.'

All Monika wanted was to end the conversation, find out what Pernilla had understood or not understood, and return to her seat at the dinner table so that she could see her face. To put to rest the uncertainty, she was willing to go along with anything.

'Of course, no problem. Please ask her to call a bit later this evening so we can arrange a time.'

And that was the end of the conversation. Monika remained standing, totally still. She looked at Pernilla's mute back there at the kitchen table, every detail suddenly rendered with such sharpness that it made her eyes burn. She felt the dread of taking the few steps that would give her the opportunity to interpret Pernilla's expression, show her whether she had been unmasked or not, whether the time had come when she would be forced to confess. Her legs wouldn't obey her. As long as she stood where she was, she was allowed to put things off.

Then Pernilla turned round, and it seemed to take an eternity before Monika could see her face.

'G.o.d, this thing about the money is unbelievable. Thank you, Monika, thank you so much.'

The dizziness and nausea were gone, along with her indecision. The deep fright she had felt at the risk of being unmasked had convinced her. It was already too late to turn back.

She had reached the point of no return.

To subjugate herself and take responsibility for Mattias was her only means of escape.

24.

Maj-Britt demanded that Ellinor report every word that was said during the phone conversation with the doctor, and Ellinor did the best she could. Maj-Britt wanted to know every syllable, every nuance, the least little tone of voice with which she had been delivered up. She could hardly feel the pain any longer, all her attention was circling round the forthcoming doctor's visit. And she was afraid; her fear had reached heights it had never even approached before. Soon the front door would open and a strange person would enter her stronghold, and she herself had partic.i.p.ated in inviting that person in. And that put her at a disadvantage that was almost impossible to bear.

'I just told her the truth, that you had pain in your lower back.'

'And how did you explain that it was necessary for her to come here?'

'I said that you would rather not leave your flat.'

'What else did you say?'

'I didn't say much more than that.'

Maj-Britt had a hunch that Ellinor must have said something else but didn't want to tell her. She must have described her repulsive body, her unwillingness to co-operate and her disagreeable behaviour. Filth had been said about her, and now she had to let the person who had heard those words come here and touch her.

Touch her!

She deeply regretted letting herself be talked into this.

Ellinor claimed that she had a free day and that was why she could stay at the flat so long, but Maj-Britt refused to be invaded once again by Ellinor's goodwill. There must be a reason. Why would she do all this if there wasn't some underlying reason?

It was a quarter to eleven; only fifteen minutes to go. Fifteen unbearable minutes before the torture would begin.

Maj-Britt paced up and down the flat, ignoring the pain in her knees. It was a greater torment to sit still.

'How do you know this doctor?'

Ellinor was sitting cross-legged on the sofa.

'I don't, my mother does. They met at a course a few weeks ago.'

Ellinor got up, went over to the window and looked at the facade of the building across the courtyard.

'Do you remember that I mentioned something about a car crash?'

Maj-Britt was just about to reply but never got that far, because the doorbell rang at that very instant. Two short signals that marked the end of her respite.

Ellinor looked at her, then took the few steps necessary to stand right in front of her.

'It will be fine, Maj-Britt. I'll stay here the whole time.'

And then she reached out her hand in an attempt to place it on Maj-Britt's arm. Maj-Britt managed to defend herself by taking a quick step back. Their eyes met briefly and then Ellinor vanished out to the hall.

Maj-Britt heard the door open. Heard their voices taking turns, but her mind refused to interpret the words, refused to realise that there was no longer any chance of escape. The lump in her throat cut into her flesh and she didn't want to. Didn't want to! Didn't want to be forced to take off her clothes and expose herself to foreign eyes.

Not again.

And then they were suddenly standing in the living-room doorway. Ellinor and the doctor she had called, who in her mercy had taken the trouble to come. Maj-Britt didn't recognise her at first. But it was the woman she had seen out there in the playground, with the fatherless child. Who with endless patience had tirelessly pushed the girl on the swing. Now she was standing there in Maj-Britt's living room, smiling and reaching out her hand to her.

'h.e.l.lo, Maj-Britt. My name is Monika Lundvall.'

Maj-Britt looked at the hand that was extended towards her. In desperation she tried to swallow the lump in her throat that was cutting into her flesh, but it didn't work. She could feel the tears welling up and knew that she didn't want to be here. Not at all.

'Maj-Britt?'

Someone was saying her name. There was no possibility of escape. She was surrounded in her own home.