But shut your trap, you goddamn bitch, before you start slobbering too.
She turned to the group again.
‘What do you say? We might as well let that computer department figure this out, then we can try and forget it ever happened. We have to think of the children above all else. Don’t you agree?’
A faint murmur and then some who began nodding. Henrik had assumed the same expression as Linda and sat with his mouth open, staring at her.
Yet another common feature they could build their future upon.
Simon’s mother was the only one who seemed to have another opinion. That this shouldn’t just be forgotten as if it had never happened.
Eva turned to Linda and Kerstin, and smiled. Kerstin gratefully acknowledged her smile, and perhaps that’s what Linda was trying to do as well, it was hard to tell.
Kerstin took a step forward and put her hand on Eva’s arm.
‘Thank you, Eva, thank you very much.’
She let her gaze wander over the crowd of parents.
‘Linda has asked for a few days off next week, and I think that’s a good idea. She might need a little rest after all this.’
Eva glanced at Henrik, who was now sitting and staring at the floor. She knew that he would never dare ask her whether his suspicions were true. That would mean admitting what a cowardly and lying jerk he was.
She was still in control.
And the next morning she would wave good-bye to him from their driveway and say how much she hoped he would have a good time on holiday, and above all she would ask him to drive carefully.
She would have a full schedule while he was gone.
He was standing amongst the trees on the common when the Golf drove up the driveway. An unsettling revulsion had come over him when he realised that the house was empty, that he didn’t know where she was. As soon as the car came to a stop the door on the driver’s side opened and the man named Henrik climbed out and walked quickly towards the house. She remained sitting in the passenger seat, and when the car door was opened and the overhead light went on, he could swear that she was smiling. Then she got out, stood for a moment by the car and appeared to be in no hurry to reach the front door. The instant she put her hand on the door handle, he punched in the speed-dial number on his phone, and just as she disappeared into the house he heard the voice in his ear.
‘Henrik.’
‘Is this Henrik Wirenstrom-Berg?’
‘Yes.’
He picked off a piece of bark on the tree in front of him. He was in no hurry.
‘Are you alone?’
‘What?’
‘I mean, can you talk undisturbed?’
‘With whom am I speaking?’
‘Pardon me, my name is Anders and . . .’
He made a little pause for effect before he continued.
‘I have something I’d like to speak with you about.’
‘Oh yes? And what would that be?’
‘It would be best if we could meet somewhere. I’d rather not talk about it on the phone.’
There was silence on the line. He heard porcelain rattling in the background and then the sound of a door closing. A lamp was turned on in one of the windows on the side of the house he was facing.
‘And what does this regard?’
‘I can meet you tomorrow whenever and wherever you like. Just tell me a time and place and I’ll see you there.’
‘Tomorrow I’m busy.’
I know that, you stupid idiot. But you can make it before the ferry leaves.
‘How about on Tuesday?’
‘I can’t do it then either. I’ll be out of town for a few days.’
He didn’t intend to wait that long, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. Somehow he had to arrange a meeting, but how much should he say? It went against the grain for him to plead with the pig on the other end, but the thought that he was doing it for her sake made him conquer his distaste.
‘Henrik, it’s best for both of us if we meet as soon as possible, you and I.’
And then when he didn’t get a response, a little hint to put on the pressure:
‘I just can’t stand going behind your back any longer.’
The silence that followed confirmed that his words had hit home. It had been an innocuous statement. How could a man who was unfaithful know what might be going on behind his back? But the fact that someone was doing something behind his back, since he was doing the very same thing, might interest him enough to agree to a meeting.
Then he cleared his throat.
‘I can meet you at nine tomorrow morning. In front of the main entrance to the Viking Line terminal at Stadsgarden. What do you look like?’
‘No problem, I’ll recognise you. I’ll see you at nine.’
He hung up, looking towards the lighted window with a smile, and went back to his car.
He had seldom had such a calm night, and for the first time in ages he awoke thoroughly rested. He spent a long time picking out his clothes. It was important that he be dressed properly; Henrik had to understand that he had been outmanoeuvred by a man who was superior to him. He didn’t want to take off the light-blue cardigan he had slept in; he was well aware of what had prompted his calm. It still smelled faintly of her, but he knew that it was a transitory security.
The phone rang.
He looked at his watch. It was only seven a.m. Who would call so early on a Monday morning? Not until he picked up the receiver did he realise that he hadn’t even counted the rings.
‘Jonas.’
‘Hi, Jonas. This is Yvonne Palmgren at Karolinska.’
He couldn’t say a word, only gasp furiously for breath. This time she apparently didn’t intend to let him cut her off.
‘I want to meet with you, Jonas. Anna’s funeral is on Saturday and it’s important that you be included in the process.’
‘What process? Do you want me to dig the grave or what?’
He heard her take a breath.
‘We’re going to hold the funeral ceremony here at the hospital chapel, and I would like you to be involved in the planning. How she should be dressed, what kind of music to play, what kind of flowers to have, how to decorate the casket; no one knows better what she liked.’
‘Ask Dr Sahlstedt. According to him, she couldn’t even feel anything before she died, so I have a hard time believing that she would suddenly start caring now. By the way, I’m booked up this week.’
He hung up and had to admit, annoyed, that the conversation had got to him. Bothered him. The only way to deal with it was to counter-attack. He went out in the hall, picked up his wallet and took out the yellow Post-It note that Sahlstedt had given him. She answered after the first ring.
‘Jonas here. I just want to say that if you or anyone else ever calls me again about Anna or anything to do with her then I’ll . . . I have absolutely no obligations with regard to her, and for God’s sake, I’ve done more than anyone could ask for that fucking whore. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
There was a pause before she replied. When she finally began to speak she did so calmly but with emphasis, as if every word were underscored with a red pen. A contemptuous tone, as if he were inferior to her.
‘You’re making a big mistake, Jonas.’
