Betrayal (12 page)

He had placed a checked kitchen towel over the basket and during the walk down towards Årstaviken she kept asking him what was in it. As usual she babbled on; it bothered him a bit that she didn’t seem to grasp the solemnity of the occasion. She talked about some gallery where she might get a chance to exhibit her paintings, and about how nice the man was who owned the place. The whole conversation made him uncomfortable. He hated it when she met people outside his control. He wanted to know everything she did, who she met and how she acted when she met them. A few weeks earlier he had mustered the courage to talk to her about it, explain how he felt. Something had happened after their talk, something that bothered him. For him everything he told her had been a sign of his boundless love, but somehow she must have misunderstood. It seemed as if she had pulled back the past few weeks. She had suddenly not been able to eat lunch with him as she usually did, and a few times she had pretended she wasn’t home when he knocked on the door of the studio, even though he knew she was there.

Now he would see to it that everything was all right again.

He had thought that they should sit on the bench across from the Boat Club, but when she saw that the gates were open she absolutely had to walk out on the wharfs. She chose the one on the right, and they walked past the few boats that were still in the water, waiting to be taken out for the winter. They walked to the end, and he set the basket down on the concrete. The bench would have been better. She came over and stood by his side, looking out over the water.
A lock of her dark hair had slipped out of the clasp at the back of her neck and was lying across her cheek. He resisted the impulse to brush it aside, touch her face.

‘God, it’s so beautiful. Look at the Söder Hospital.’

He looked where she was pointing. The sun made the windows in the enormous white building glow as if fires had been lit inside each and every one of them.

‘I should have brought along my sketch pad.’

He knelt down and took the towel off the basket, placed it like a tablecloth on the concrete, and set out the champagne glasses.

‘Oh,’ she said, smiling in surprise, ‘it’s a party!’

He felt the nervousness now, almost changed his mind. In some way she didn’t seem fully there. Everything would be much easier if she met him halfway, tried to help him out. He took out the potato salad and the grilled chicken, reached for the sparkling wine and stood up.

Her smile. He had to touch her.

‘What are we celebrating?’

He smiled at her, couldn’t say the words, not yet.

‘Has something wonderful happened?’

Now she was looking at him with curiosity, really looking at him. For the first time in weeks he had her full attention. Finally she was back again, with him, where she should always be.

He handed her the glass with determination.

‘Will you marry me?’

He had fantasised about it for months. How her beautiful face would break into that smile that made her eyes narrow to slits. How she would come to him, come close, in complete trust and finally let him kiss
her, touch her. She who had always had to struggle through life would understand that he intended to protect her, that he would never leave her, that she never had to be afraid again.

But all she did was shut her eyes.

She closed her eyes and shut him out.

A primal fear came over him. All the terror that she had protected him from for a whole year came flooding in like a great fury.

She opened her eyes and looked at him again.

‘Jonas. We have to talk.’

She took the glass from him and put it down on the wharf.

‘Come, let’s sit down.’

He couldn’t move.

‘Come on.’

She reached out her hand and placed it carefully on his arm, led him cautiously over to the edge of the wharf and got him to sit down. She stared out over the water.

‘I think the world of you, Jonas, I do, but what you said to me a few weeks ago scared me. I realised that maybe you’ve misinterpreted everything.’

I don’t want you to live here any more.

‘I’ve tried to explain things to you but . . . well, it’s my own fault that it’s gone this far, because I haven’t dared, I didn’t want to make you sad. Yes, and our friendship has been terribly important for me as well, I don’t want to lose it.’

I don’t want you to live here any more.

‘This man at the gallery I told you about, his name is Martin, we have . . . he and I have . . . oh, damn it.’

She looked away but in the next instant he thought
he could feel her hand on his arm, though it could have been his imagination.

‘I’m so sorry that I didn’t say something sooner. I didn’t realise how you felt until you told me that you didn’t want me to see other people if you weren’t with me. And this thing with Martin. Well, now I might as well tell you the truth. I really believe I can say that I love him. At any rate, I haven’t ever felt like this before.’

He looked down at his arm. Yes, it was there. Her faithless hand lay there on his forearm.

She was touching him.

‘Forgive me, Jonas, but . . .’

Everything went white.

In the next instant she was in the water. Her face broke the surface, shocked and furious.

‘What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?’

He looked around. There was an old abandoned oar next to him with only half the blade left. Her hands were clutching the edge of the wharf but he prised up her fingers so she had to let go. The next time he saw her head above the surface he shoved the oar against her shoulder and forced her back down. Her deceitful hands thrashed above the surface but vanished. Then she started moving out, backwards; she was trying to escape by swimming out of reach.

The water closed around him. The cold didn’t touch him. Quickly he was at her side and shoved her head under the water. He fought off her thrashing arms and locked his legs around her to get extra leverage. It might have taken ten minutes; time did not exist. Only the feeling that she slowly but surely was ceasing to resist, had submitted to his will and given in.

And then the voice from somewhere that suddenly broke into his consciousness.

‘Hello! Hello! Do you need help? I’m coming.’

S
he listened carefully while he was in the shower. When she heard him pull shut the shower door, she hurried into his office and copied the letters on the fax. Which of them would best suit her purpose she didn’t know yet; she would take them with her and read them somewhere in peace and quiet when he thought she had gone to work.

She left only a note on the kitchen table – ‘Going to work now, can pick up Axel today so you can work in peace and quiet.’ – and with the originals back in the gun cabinet and the papers she needed stuffed into her briefcase, she pulled on her coat and left the house.

He was still in the shower.

Without consciously deciding which direction she would take, she drove out towards Värmdö, turned off on the road towards Gustavsberg and pulled into a parking space.

My love,

Every minute, every moment I am wherever you are. Merely the knowledge that you exist makes me happy. I live for the brief times we have together. I know that what we’re doing is wrong, that we shouldn’t feel the way we do, but how could I ever say no? I don’t know
how many times I’ve decided to try and forget you, but then you stand there in front of me and I just can’t. If everything came out I would probably lose my job, you would lose your family, everything would be chaos. And yet I can’t stop loving you. The instant I pray that all this had never happened, I’m scared to death that my prayer might be answered. I realise that I am ready to lose everything as long as I can be with you.

I love you, your L

The nausea grew stronger with every word she read. She had a parasite inside and she felt like puking, turning herself inside out to get rid of it. In an unguarded moment it had forced its way in and taken over her whole system, poisoned her family, and yet this was not punishable by law. There wasn’t one line in the law books that could regulate the crime that had been committed. This woman had crushed a family and turned a child’s parents against each other; the damage she had caused was unforgivable and could never be repaired.

She scanned one of the other letters but couldn’t go on. The words she held in her hands consumed all the oxygen in the car, it was no longer possible to breathe. She tossed them onto the passenger seat and climbed out of the car to get some air.

She had a prickly sensation in her left arm.

Leaning forward with her eyes closed, she stood there with her hands flat on the bonnet. A car approached from the direction of Gustavsberg and she straightened up again. The last thing she wanted was for someone to stop and ask how she was. For anyone to see her at all.

When the car went past she saw the letters through the windscreen. They lay there in her car and she hated them, hated each and every black word printed on the white paper. Hated the fact that they were the same letters of the alphabet that she used, that she would always have to use.

Somewhere in the darkness she wondered about the passion that Henrik had managed to awaken in the other woman.

Why him, of all people?

What was it
she
saw?

Had she herself ever loved in the way that the words described? Maybe at first, but if so she couldn’t remember. They had once, back when everything was different, decided to live their lives together, and to seal their decision they had brought a child into the world, a lifelong responsibility. And now, just because he was feeling a bit randy, it was all going to be shattered, all feeling of companionship abolished. As long as he could screw Axel’s day-care teacher and get away with it, everything would be fine.

Fucking pig.

The anger came over her again and the prickling in her left arm subsided.

She was all decisiveness again.

She got into the car and picked up the first letter.

It was hard to believe that such a little poet was hidden behind that fey smile that greeted them every morning. On the other hand, the letter was perfect, didn’t need the least bit of editing. And it was really eye-opening that she was ready to lose everything. That’s what it said in black and white, and that was precisely what was going to happen.

Your prayer will be granted, little Linda, it most certainly will.

She looked at the clock. It was already a quarter past ten and time to drive back. By this time they would no doubt have set off on their picnic in the woods.

She started the car, made a U-turn, and drove back towards the day-care centre.

To be on the safe side, she left the car in the car park outside Ica and walked the last bit. No one could see her car in the vicinity of the day-care centre just now, no one would see her at all if it was avoidable. The playground at the back was deserted, the only things moving were the black tyres on their chains, swinging lightly in the breeze; otherwise everything was still. She wondered whether all the other children had gone too. That would definitely be best, as long as they hadn’t locked all the doors behind them.

The street door to Axel’s section was locked. She continued around the corner, passing the helter-skelter, and from a distance she could see that the door to the kitchen was held ajar with a blue plastic crate. Maybe Ines was busy preparing the afternoon snack. She walked the last bit to the door and listened at the opening. There was no sound other than a radio, and it seemed to be playing its music to an empty room.

If anyone happened to see her from one of the windows, she couldn’t just stand there hesitating, she had to act as though it was completely normal for her to be at her son’s day-care centre at five minutes past eleven on a Friday morning. Anyway, it wouldn’t be a problem if someone asked. Finding a reasonable
explanation for her presence was the least of her worries.

She opened the door and went inside. The kitchen was completely empty. Only three loaves of rye bread wrapped in plastic and a packet of Marlboro Lights on the stainless steel workbench in the middle of the room disturbed the order. The sound of a flushing toilet revealed where Ines was, and Eva hurried out into the corridor and down to Kerstin’s office. No one in sight. She dashed past the staff room and the toddlers’ section and in through the wide-open doors. Then she pulled them closed as quietly as she could and locked them. If anyone showed up, the locked doors would give her a few seconds’ respite. She was actually just here to leave a message for Kerstin, and that was all anyone would see her doing if they unexpectedly interrupted her.

She went over to the desk.

She had never been a computer expert, but she should be able to work out how to start one of the computers. She put down her briefcase, pressed a button, and sat down in the chair to wait for the machine to boot up. Right in front of her was a notice-board with this autumn’s group pictures from the four day-care sections. About sixty children and the staff that took care of them. Axel sitting crosslegged on the floor and just behind him the snake who had stolen his secure life. She stood up, leaned over the desk and regarded her enemy. Her blonde hair down over her shoulders. And that fucking smile. She wouldn’t be smiling much longer.

She sat back down.

A window had appeared on the screen that asked
for her username and password. She keyed in Linda Persson and clicked down to password.

Usually three attempts were allowed; that’s how it was with the server at work, at least.

Henrik. Please check your password. Axel. Wrong again. Bitch. Please contact community technical support.

She looked up at the notice-board again. Somewhere they must have the password written down so they wouldn’t have to look it up in the internal catalogue, but maybe they knew it by heart. She picked up the phone and punched zero.

‘School Board headquarters.’

‘Hi, Kerstin Evertsson from Kortbacken pre-school. I’ve forgotten the number for computer technical support.’

‘Four zero eleven. Shall I connect you?’