You're Mine Now (3 page)

He snored on the in-breath, which meant he was asleep. Which meant that Anna could get up and slip out. She had put one hand on the mattress to push herself up when his arm landed over her stomach.

A strange man’s arm lay across Anna’s stomach. Proof of her waywardness. She had been unfaithful to her husband, slept with someone else. What had been unthinkable only five hours ago, something she could never have dreamed of, was now an inescapable fact. She looked at the arm. Like the rest of his body, it was taut and muscular.

The sex. God, the sex was powerful and naked, and not least, natural. Physical encounters with a stranger often amounted to nothing more than awkward fumblings, flavoured with reassurances and misunderstandings and incompetence and pretending to be interested. At least, that was how Anna remembered her teenage years. Good sex was something you had to work on. It required intimacy and security and trust. It had never occurred to her before that two bodies could be a perfect fit, like pieces of a puzzle.

She carefully lifted Erik’s arm and got out of bed. It was still dark. Anna looked around the room for her pants and found them at the foot of the bed. Her blouse had been thrown on the floor, as had her bra. She could roll her tights up in a ball in her hand, but she didn’t want to go out into the corridor without her bra on. God help her if she ran into anyone, if Sissela was out there. The sun wouldn’t even be up before the rest of the world knew then. Trude would be bad enough, but Sissela was something else.

Anna bent down to pick up her bra and heard a click behind her. She turned around. Erik was lying in bed with his hand stretched out, pointing a mobile phone at her. He smiled.

‘Did you take a picture?’ Anna asked.

She walked towards him and reached for the phone in his hand. He snatched it away, obviously amused by the possibility of a fight.

‘Give it to me.’

‘You have to let me have a memory to keep,’ he said, and ducked away from her hands.

‘Don’t you believe it. Can I have the phone?’

‘No, it’s mine.’

‘Stop messing around. Give it to me.’

Erik laughed when she wrestled with him, but in the end he gave up and handed her the phone. She opened the album and studied the picture.

‘Ugh, is that what I look like?’

‘What do you mean, ugh? You’re a hot milf.’

‘Hot? More like fat. There, gone. Would’ve been fun if that went live, wouldn’t it?’

‘Then I’d have had something to wank to.’

‘Wank? How old did you say you were?’

‘Fourteen.’

‘As old as that?’

He put out his hand and stroked her arm, let the back of his fingers glide down over her soft skin, the curve of her breast. She closed her eyes.

‘I have to go,’ she said.

He gave an understanding nod.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes. Absolutely. It was…’

Anna tried to find the right word and felt her eyes fill with emotion and guilt. Erik sat up, lifted the hair that had fallen over her face and pulled her to him. She held her arms up in front of her in a half-hearted attempt to fend off any more intimacy.

‘Wait,’ he said, and disappeared into the bathroom.

He came back with some tissues and a glass of water. Anna blew her nose and drank the water.

‘Sorry,’ she said, with an embarrassed laugh.

‘Don’t apologise.’

‘I’ve never…’

She was about to start crying again, but managed to stop herself.

‘So,’ she said, and patted him on the knee, ‘I should go.’

Erik nodded.

‘Have to.’

‘What time is it?’

They both turned and looked at the blue digits on the radio-clock. Nearly five. Erik looked at her.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ he said.

‘Is this your car?’

‘No, I’ve got something smaller. Somewhere in town. This is Olof’s.’

‘And you’ve got the keys?’

‘They had some beers down at the clubhouse, so I drove back.’

‘You don’t drink at all?’

‘Rarely. I work out quite a lot.’

‘You can tell.’

‘I guess the right response is thank you.’

Anna nodded to herself.

‘Small car, big…’ she said, surprised at herself.

‘What kind of car do you have?’ Erik asked.

‘Volvo.’

They drove past the unmanned ranger’s hut towards the cliffs. Erik put the headlamps on full beam and started up the steep, narrow road. He stopped at the viewpoint and they looked out over the town. The damp air smudged the glare of the streetlights and made everything look like a dark bluey-grey watercolour painted on wet paper.

‘I love Kullaberg,’ he said, and drove on through the bare beech woods. ‘I come here as often as I can.’

They passed the golf course and carried on up towards the lighthouse, from where the beam swept majestically over the white morning mist. Erik turned off the engine and opened the door.

‘Come,’ he said, and got out.

He took her by the hand and led her over towards the cliffs.

‘Careful. It’s steep here.’

He stopped by the edge. The beam from the lighthouse swept over them rhythmically, the sea lay like a carpet below, frightening and full of promise. She breathed deeply, listened to the space between the waves that crashed against the rock at regular intervals, glimpsed the white foam against the black water.

‘One wrong foot here and it’s the end,’ Erik said. ‘We’re standing on an overhanging headland. When you go climbing here, you hang upside down like a spider.’

‘You go climbing?’

‘As often as I can.’

‘Let’s hope the granite holds then,’ Anna said. ‘Always some Dane or another who falls down and gets killed.’

‘Is there?’

‘Every year,’ Anna said. ‘And in return, there’s always some drunken Swede who falls off the rollercoaster at Bakken. I think it’s an agreement, a kind of annual death exchange.’

Erik laughed.

‘You’re funny,’ he said. ‘Hold on, I’m going to scream now.’

‘Okay.’

‘Thought it might be best to warn you in case you got a fright and fell.’

‘I’ll try to stay on my feet.’

‘Ready?’

‘Ready.’

‘I’m serious, I scream loud.’

He screamed, a primal roar into the night. His voice echoed both high and low and Anna didn’t hear her own laughter until he stopped.

‘What?’ he said.

‘Nothing.’

Anna dried her eyes.

‘You sound like a teenager at a rock concert.’

‘Come on then, your turn.’

‘No, no, no, I’m far too reserved.’

‘Come on, it’s feels so good.’

‘Not my thing, not my thing at all.’

‘How do you know, when you haven’t even tried?’

‘Okay, what should I shout?’

‘Just scream. Let’s change places, you have to stand right on the edge with only the sea in front of you.’

‘I don’t dare.’

‘Come on. It’s not dangerous. I’m not thinking of pushing you over.’

They swapped places.

‘Scream.’

‘Aaah.’

‘You can do better than that. Scream properly. Scream out all your shit, all your disappointments, everything that hasn’t happened, everything that’s gone against you. The pleasure, the cherry on the cake that you’re scared you’ll lose.’

Anna screamed.

‘A good warm-up. Now again.’

She screamed. Screamed from the pit of her stomach, pressed everything up and out of her mouth, over the water. When there was nothing left, when she had emptied it all, she filled her lungs with fresh, salty air, gasping as if she’d been for a long run, and then realised she was crying. Crying with relief, joy and renewal. Because it felt good and because it was the complete opposite of the controlled person that she normally was.

He took her hand. They walked back down to the car, where they kissed each other openly and wordlessly as she rode him in the driver’s seat until they came.

‘A bloody good thing that the hunk went to bed,’ Sissela said, tapping the top of her breakfast egg with a spoon.

Anna pretended not to understand.

‘Who?’

‘That guy yesterday, the body.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Otherwise Trude would be sitting here full of regrets.’

‘You think so?’

Sissela snorted.

‘Couldn’t you tell? She was obscenely horny.’

‘Was she? I didn’t notice.’

Sissela peeled the shell off with her fingers.

‘She should watch herself.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, hello, how old do you think he was? Twenty-five?’

‘He was thirty at least.’

‘Well, and Trude’s fifty-two. What was his name again?’

‘Can’t remember.’

Anna took a sip of juice and swallowed the lump in her throat.

‘Erik,’ Sissela exclaimed, waving her index finger in the air. ‘Trude could be his mother. Not a word, here she comes.’

They watched their colleague coming towards them with heavy steps. Sissela found it hard to conceal her eagerness.

‘Good morning, sunshine,’ she trilled. ‘Did you sleep well?’

Trude glared at her.

‘Where’s the coffee?’

She looked around, spotted the coffee machine and went to get a mug.

‘So,’ Sissela said, once she’d sat down. ‘I’m guessing that you’re really glad now that you stayed until the bar closed and forced down that last glass.’

‘It’s not that bad,’ Trude replied, stretching. ‘I slept really well.’

‘Just said to Anna that it’s a good thing the hunk went to bed early.’

‘Why?’

Trude was well aware that what Sissela said as a joke to her face was presented as something else behind her back.

‘You know.’

‘No,’ Trude insisted. ‘Tell me.’

Sissela gave a nervous giggle.

‘I’m just having you on.’

Trude could hit back and Anna loved her for it. It didn’t happen often, but it was there, that last line of defence. If Trude had sat there full of remorse, Sissela would have exploited her weakness with false compassion, but now she was just hung-over and so wouldn’t put up with being treated like that.

‘So,’ Anna said, to lighten the mood. ‘What time did you eventually get to bed?’

‘I was in bed just before two,’ Trude replied.

‘So was I,’ said Sissela, careful to fit in now. ‘We went up at the same time. You went to bed between ten and eleven, didn’t you?’

She looked at Anna, who squirmed.

‘They seemed really nice, those advertising guys,’ she said.

Trude nodded in agreement.

‘Very nice.’

‘Nice is one thing,’ Sissela quipped. ‘But you wouldn’t really want to grind with a red-cheeked Viagra man. You’d have to keep your eyes firmly shut. The hunk, on the other hand…’

She turned to Anna, and changed the subject.

‘We talked business with them. Thought they could send in a pitch for our next campaign. If they managed to sell subscriptions, I might be able to give the boy a magazine or two.’

Trude pulled a face, Sissela couldn’t understand why.

‘What?’

‘Good morning.’

Erik was standing behind Sissela, fresh-faced and youthful in comparison.

‘Did you all sleep well?’ he asked, taking time to look at each of them.

‘Absolutely,’ Trude said. ‘And you?’

Erik shook his head.

‘Not much,’ he replied.

Anna took a sip of coffee. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

‘No?’ Sissela exclaimed.

‘I never sleep well in hotels,’ he said. ‘The pillows are too big, and there’s too much noise.’

‘You should have stayed up longer,’ Trude teased. ‘And learned from those of us with more experience and poorer judgement how to drink yourself to sleep.’

‘Next time,’ Erik smiled. ‘Though I have say, I feel pretty refreshed and rested all the same.’

Anna knew he was looking at her: she could feel it with every nerve in her body.

‘Where are your friends?’ Sissela asked.

‘They’re on their way.’

‘Are you playing golf again today?’

‘A conference is a conference. And you?’

‘We’ll be working.’

‘That’s an alternative. Will you be in the bar again this evening?’

‘No, we’re leaving this afternoon,’ Anna said.

Erik looked at her and nodded.

‘Well, it was nice meeting you. Hope to see you again some time.’

He moved over to the buffet. Sissela followed him with hungry eyes.

‘Me too, pool boy,’ she said. ‘Me too.’

A six-month schedule and five-week printing procedure kept any anxious followers of fashion at bay.
Family Journal
was a prehistoric dinosaur in the digital information age. A kind, monster herbivore not to be swayed by the soon-forgotten dramas of everyday life. The general tone of the magazine was that of a wise, loving grandmother comforting her grown-up daughter who was worried about her teenage children: everything will be all right in the end, just wait and see.

By lunch they were done with the end of the school year, midsummer, the holiday edition and the crayfish season special. They had done what they set out to do and were ready to check out and order a taxi back to the office.

‘That went fast,’ Sissela concluded, from the passenger seat.

Trude agreed.

‘It certainly did.’

‘It was fun with Olof and Sven,’ Sissela said, turning round. ‘Anna, a shame that you went to bed so early.’

‘I was tired.’

‘Advertising people are nice,’ Trude said. ‘Those over forty, at least. The young hotshots can be a bit stressful.’

‘He can stress me out any time,’ Sissela said, and then became acutely aware of the driver next to her.

She laughed, embarrassed, and tried to cover it.

‘Internal joke.’

The taxi driver nodded and forced a smile.

‘Why did he go to bed so early?’ Sissela mused.

‘I guess we were too old,’ Trude said.

For a moment, Anna wondered whether they were having a go at her. If they’d been standing in the corridor outside the room and heard everything.

‘Sober, moralistic youth,’ Sissela snorted. ‘A non-fucking generation.’

She put a hand on the driver’s shoulder.

‘You’ll have to excuse us, we’ve just had a planning meeting.’

‘I’m used to it, nothing I haven’t heard before,’ he said, but did squirm a bit in his seat.

‘We’re all bark and no bite,’ Sissela assured him.

Anna looked out at the passing landscape. Everything lay fallow, the opposite of what she felt inside. The second time up by the cliffs had been even better, if that was possible. Raw, uninhibited, frantic. Anna felt an almost physical hunger for his body. She wanted to remember every moment.

She imagined herself in an old people’s home. A nurse talking down to her in an artificial, friendly, loud voice:
Good night then, Mrs Stenberg. Let’s hope that Mrs Stenberg gets a good night’s sleep.

Anna would put her hand under the covers and dig out Mölle 2012 from her mental archive. What was done was done, and she didn’t want to regret it or feel ashamed.

‘So, were they nice then?’ Magnus asked, once they’d finished dinner and Hedda had left the table in favour of the television.

‘Who?’

‘The golfers?’

Anna felt her cheeks burning.

‘You said that they bought you all drinks,’ Magnus continued. ‘When you phoned yesterday. Have you forgotten that you called?’

‘No, no, I’m with you now. Yes, they were very nice. They run an advertising agency. It was a good evening. I didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘No problem. What was the agency called?’

‘Oh, I can’t remember. They were called Sven and Olof, or something like that. Older boys, closer to sixty.’

‘
Jurassic Park
in their business.’

‘I guess it is. There was a young guy with them too, but he went to bed early.’

‘Ah, the youth of today,’ Magnus said, and got up. ‘Don’t know what’s the matter with them.’

He started to clear the table, scraped and rinsed the plates and stacked them in the dishwasher.

‘So there were no scandals?’ he added, blithely.

Anna pulled the newspaper over towards her and pretended to have seen something.

‘Not that I know of.’

‘Has Trude grown up then?’

‘I’m not sure about that, but she behaved herself. They were actually really nice, the men. Talked a lot about their wives.’

‘Oh, you want to watch out then.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s another way of saying I want a fuck unless you’re going to be silly and fall in love and go mad and stalk me.’

‘How do you know that?’

Anna gave her husband an accusing look. He shrugged in amusement.

‘God, that’s elementary conference sex etiquette.’

‘Ugh, listen to yourself.’

Magnus grinned, pleased with the reaction.

‘More wine.’

‘Yes, please.’