Fire (25 page)

Linnéa’s smile dies away. She looks at the window.

‘Don’t ask me,’ she replies in a monotone. ‘Sure, why not?’

‘But if we sleep together, do you think he might fall totally in love with me? Because the last thing I could cope with now is someone who really loves me and wants a completely serious relationship.’

Linnéa produces a humming noise that could mean anything.

‘I mean, I’m not positive that I don’t still feel something for Wille,’ Vanessa goes on. ‘I don’t
want
to miss him but I do, all the same. Even though I hate him for what he has done to me. And then I saw him with that chick … he had changed so much. And he seems to be utterly crazy about her …’

‘What did you expect?’ Linnéa interrupts. Vanessa is pulled up short.

‘How do you mean, “expect”?’

‘You know very well that Wille can’t stand being alone. He needs someone to look after him. After I dumped him, how long did it take for him to find you?’

Vanessa doesn’t know how to answer. She really hadn’t believed that Wille would replace her quite that quickly. But when Linnéa is like this, Vanessa can’t admit it.

‘Besides, after you two got it together, he kept phoning me,’ Linnéa says. ‘As if he wanted me to be a kind of fall-back if your affair turned sour. I guess it’s only a matter of time before he starts calling you.’

Vanessa stares at her. Served up by Linnéa, the truth sounds so merciless. Also, Vanessa feels stupid. Stupid, because she still has feelings for Wille. Stupid, because she isn’t as strong as Linnéa.

She shouldn’t have talked to Linnéa about all this. She shouldn’t have come here at all.

I shouldn’t have come here at all
.

Linnéa is unprepared for the energy of Vanessa’s thought. It rushes into her head.

Why can’t I ever keep my mouth shut? Linnéa thinks.

She mustn’t even look at Vanessa. She is terrified that Vanessa will understand that Linnéa read that thought and perhaps think that she was listening in on purpose.

The doorbell rings

‘Back soon,’ Linnéa says as she gets up.

There are only a few people who are likely to turn up without warning at Linnéa’s front door, and she doesn’t want to meet any of them.

And especially not the woman who stands outside on the landing. Her hair is a bleached blonde and she has a small, glittering stone in her pierced nostril.

Diana from social services.

‘Hello, Linnéa,’ she says.

Her face carries that concerned look. It terrifies Linnéa.

It’s something about Dad, she thinks. Whatever else would make Diana call on a Sunday afternoon?

‘May I come in?’

‘Of course,’ Linnéa replies and steps back from the door.

Diana walks straight in, doesn’t even take her trainers off. It is unlike her. Linnéa follows, stops to pick a jacket up from the floor and hang it on a hook.

Usually, she tidies up for hours before Diana’s visits, airs the flat to get rid of the smoke, polishes every spot of toothpaste from the bathroom mirror, exterminates every trace of dust balls and carries on until the entire flat is a monument to Linnéa’s capacity for clean living, good taste and
neatness. And now it’s like a bomb has hit it.

Vanessa looks up when they enter the living room.

‘So you have a visitor,’ Diana says.

‘Diana, this is Vanessa. A friend from school.’

Diana holds out her hand and says hello.

‘Linnéa and I must talk in private,’ she announces.

‘Yes, of course,’ Vanessa says. ‘I was on my way home anyway.’ She glances quickly at Linnéa. ‘See you.’

‘Sure, see you,’ Linnéa says. The super-sharp electric whisk is back, churning her heart to mush.

Diana settles down on the sofa. Scans the flat. Linnéa takes the smoking cigarette from the ashtray and puts it out.

‘She didn’t look very happy,’ Diana says.

‘Her boyfriend left her a couple of weeks ago,’ Linnéa replies.

‘And you’ve had a little party here together?’ Diana continues, as she slowly examines the room.

Linnéa feels even more ill at ease, if that’s at all possible. What is this meeting supposed to be about?

‘She might have, for all I know,’ Linnéa says. ‘Not me. I don’t do “partying” any more.’

Diana’s nose-jewel glitters when she turns her head to look straight at Linnéa.

‘Would you trouble yourself to explain why you’ve opted out of our last three meetings?’

It takes a moment before Linnéa even understands the meaning of what she has said. It feels like being in one of those stage performances in nightmares, when you’re the only one who doesn’t know the lines.

‘But … you cancelled the visits,’ Linnéa says.

Diana bends her neck a little sideways. Looks even more concerned. Linnéa senses an approaching panic attack. Unlike all the other soc-ladies, Diana has always stood up for Linnéa.
It is thanks to her that Linnéa was allowed to live in a flat on her own instead of being bundled off to another foster home.

But the flat arrived in a package together with iron-clad rules about immaculate conduct. A single mistake could be enough for the whole arrangement to collapse.

‘Our latest meeting was due last Friday,’ Diana says.

‘But they phoned from the social. Someone said you were off ill. First, it was food poisoning. And then flu. I was waiting to hear how you were.’

Linnéa realises all of it sounds like worthless excuses.

‘Please, Linnéa. No barefaced lies.’

‘No, I’m not lying …’

‘I have not been ill at all, so why should someone phone and tell you so? On the other hand, I’ve left several messages on your voicemail and sent out notes which you have not responded to.’

Linnéa mustn’t lose control now. The mere thought makes her feel even more panicky. She tries to sound calm and sensible. Adult. Responsible.

‘I have not received any messages. Or any notes. Diana, please, you must believe me.’

‘Is it this Vanessa who made you throw parties?’

‘What parties?’

‘Your neighbours have complained. What they say, in short, is that there has been non-stop mayhem. Even during weekday nights, and lasting well into the early hours.’

‘But I’ve hardly got any neighbours!’ Linnéa exclaims.

‘So, you are not denying the parties?’

‘Of course I am!’

Diana sighs.

Linnéa is suddenly aware of how heavily she is breathing. Diana must listen to her, must believe her. She always has in the past.

‘You insist that you are completely innocent?’ Diana asks.

‘Yes, I do.’

Diana’s mouth tightens into a thin, straight line. Wrong answer.

‘In other words, I am lying to you?’

‘No, of course not. But maybe there’s someone who hasn’t told you the truth …’

‘I see. You suggest there has been some sort of
conspiracy
?’

The nightmare is becoming worse and worse. Linnéa attempts to read Diana’s mind; it isn’t possible, her own panic overwhelms her, she can’t concentrate.

‘If you will not tell me the truth, I cannot help you,’ Diana says and gets up.

Linnéa also gets up and follows Diana into the hall.

‘This is a misunderstanding,’ Linnéa says. ‘Please give me a chance to prove it.’

Diana stops at the door and turns to her.

‘It’s always somebody else’s fault, isn’t that so? I like you, Linnéa. But I will not help you by letting you get away with this. You will have to learn to take responsibility for your own actions. You have reached a watershed.
You
will have to choose. See to it that you make the right choice.’

After Diana has left, Linnéa stands in the hall for a long while. She wants to scream out loud, throw things at the walls, break something, tear something to pieces. Everything that she must not do.

Bahar parks her roller-case on the platform and gives Minoo a long, warm hug.

‘
Dokhtare azizam
,’ she says. ‘Take care, now. And we’ll meet again very soon, I hope.’

‘I hope so, too,’ Minoo replies and really means it.

She doesn’t want Bahar to leave. It’s true that the atmosphere has been tense and weird during her visit, but at least Mum and Dad have behaved in a civilised way to each other.

Bahar turns to her sister and hugs her for even longer, whispers something in her ear. When they let each other go, both have tears in their eyes. They clasp each other’s hands one last time and then Bahar climbs on board the train.

The doors shut with a shushing sound, the wheels start turning. Minoo and her mum stand and watch until the train has vanished from sight.

The silence between them is paralysing. It follows them into the car and stays with them all the way as they drive from the station.

Mum parks a short distance from the school and switches the engine off. She faces Minoo and visibly pulls herself together. As if she is finally ready to speak the truth.

But that glued-on smile comes back on her face instead.

How can she believe that I’m tricked by that smile of hers?
Minoo thinks. She who’s always on about how one mustn’t suppress one’s emotions?

‘There now, have a nice day, Minoo.’

Suddenly, Minoo isn’t prepared to put up with this charade for a second longer.

‘Are you getting divorced?’ she asks.

Mum looks shocked. It makes Minoo even more furious. Did she imagine that this conversation could be avoided for ever?

‘What is going on between you?’ she asks when her mum doesn’t answer.

‘This is something for your father and me—’

‘And Bahar.’

Mum goes rigid.

‘Has she spoken to you?’

‘No, she hasn’t, but it’s so obvious that she knows. And that Dad knows that she knows. Why should Bahar have a better grip on what happens in our family than I have?’

Minoo feels tears welling up. But she is not going to let herself go. She needs to demonstrate that she is strong enough to cope with the truth.

‘I didn’t want to burden you with all this,’ Mum says.

‘Don’t you realise that
this
is a burden? You refuse to let me know anything about what the real issues are. I am simply meant to accept that you two fight all the time. I do live in the same house as you. In case you hadn’t noticed.’

Mum’s hand clutches the steering wheel so hard her knuckles go white.

‘My dearest child …’ she says and her voice breaks. She is silent for a moment and then tries again. ‘I understand you, of course. I truly do. And I’ll tell you what there is to know. You are quite right to say that it affects you, too. Affects you very much. But I had to try sorting it all out in my own mind
and that is why I spoke to Bahar. I can promise you one thing. The problems are entirely between your dad and me, it is not your fault—’

Minoo interrupts her.

‘Of course it isn’t! Do you think I’m a five-year-old, or what? I can’t go on with things being like this. Fix your problems, go into therapy, whatever! Or just get a divorce!’

‘Minoo …’

But Minoo throws the car door open and sets out to walk to school. She swallows her tears, swallows the hurt, the guilt and the anger. Swallows and swallows until the whole mess has become a hard little lump in her chest.

When she reaches the schoolyard, her first thought is that she must have missed something. Is it some kind of theme day?

Pupils in bright yellow polo shirts are clustered at the main entrance. Some of them are talking excitedly. Others are handing out flyers and stickers. Somebody has tied yellow helium balloons along the stair railings. More balloons are floating about, tied to the top bar of the solitary football goal and to the branches of the dead trees.

It doesn’t dawn on Minoo what it is all about until she recognises Rickard among the yellow-shirted crowd.

‘Minoo!’ Linnéa shouts.

She is just coming through the gate.

And she is the complete opposite of the army of baby chickens at the school entrance. Black hair, back-combed and held by a large bow made from a ribbon of black lace. Short black dress, torn net stockings and black ankle boots. Whole lakes of black make-up around her eyes.

‘Yay, Positive Engelsfors,’ Linnéa says disgustedly as they walk towards the entrance. ‘Their reproduction rate must be something else.’

Minoo tries to avoid the collective gaze of the yellow hordes as she and Linnéa come closer to the stairs. She is still feeling raw after the exchange in the car. Defenceless. Without any filters between herself and the rest of the world.

‘Hello and welcome to the first day of the rest of your lives!’ a rather good-looking guy says as he tries to push a flyer into Minoo’s hand.

‘No, thanks,’ she says.

He beams at her.

‘Why such a gloomy face? Have you had lemons for breakfast?’

‘This is a bad day, that’s all.’

‘Only you yourself can change that!’

‘Give over, Mehmet. And do your bit by shutting up,’ Linnéa says.

‘Bad attitude, guys!’ someone shouts at them as they enter the school.

Minoo and Linnéa look at each other.

‘The first day of the rest of our lives?’ Linnéa says. ‘Seriously?’

‘Sounds like a threat,’ Minoo says.

Linnéa laughs and Minoo smiles. The jagged lump in her chest softens a little.

‘Where are these people going?’ Linnéa asks.

Minoo looks around and notices for the first time that around her and Linnéa people are drifting towards the assembly hall.

Except for that blue-haired girl. She is walking towards them.

‘Linnéa!’ she calls.

Her white foundation doesn’t manage to hide the dark rings under her eyes. In fact, it enhances them. It might actually be the idea. She is wearing a long black T-shirt. On the
chest, the words ‘THE GOOD DIE YOUNG’ are written in red, blood-spattered letters. The print looks home-made.

‘Hi, Olivia,’ Linnéa says. She suddenly sounds weary.

‘Oh, hi,’ says Olivia without looking at Minoo. ‘The first lesson today is cancelled – there’s some kind of event in the assembly hall.’

Minoo exchanges a glance with Linnéa. Could it have something to do with Adriana?

‘They say everybody has got to be there, like, it’s compulsory, but they probably won’t check,’ Olivia continues. ‘Wanna leave?’