Betrayal

was doing all he could to appear friendly. She wondered what his plan was. Were they supposed to make up and be good friends again and then he would drop the bomb?

She wasn’t going to make it that easy for him.

‘Shall I put them in water?’

She realised that she had no choice. That she would be acting far too disagreeably and would help him out by not accepting them.

She took down a vase and went over to him – saying thank you was beyond her. She took the bouquet and turned to the sink. Carefully she clipped off the ends of one rose after another and put them in the vase. He was still standing behind her; maybe he was preparing himself to disclose his confession. She had to stall him, only one more day, just until Linda’s past was revealed and she had a chance to get hold of the money. Her unresponsive behaviour would naturally strengthen his resolve that he was doing the right thing by leaving her, but that no longer mattered. So many times she had pursued him through the house in the past six months to get a conversation going. Now it was his turn to pursue her. And then neither of them would pursue the other. Ever. Not in this house or anywhere else.

‘I’ve missed you.’

Her hand stopped halfway between the sink and the vase. Of its own accord. As if just like the rest of her it didn’t understand at first what the words signified.

And then all at once she understood what this was all about.

The fear in his voice. The red roses. His silly but valiant attempt at reconciliation.

Something had happened during their trip.

Linda had left him and now he stood here terror-stricken, wanting his wife back. Not because he loved her, but because he had nothing else. That’s why he came home early. He and Linda had split up. That’s why she suddenly recognised him again, now that the strength he had gained from Linda’s infatuation had left him.

‘I’ve been thinking while I was away, as you told me to do, and I would like to beg your forgiveness for being so disagreeable lately. And then I got to thinking of that trip you booked to Iceland. I would very much like it if we went on it together.’

The new conditions set the ground rocking beneath her. She needed time to understand what this meant, how she should handle the situation.

‘I cancelled it.’

‘We can book another one. I can do it.’

He sounded almost desperate now, pleading. He’d do anything if she would only let him back in. And all at once she was forced to admit what she had managed to avoid thinking about. There had been something attractive about his attempt to free himself from her. Not his betrayal and his lies – for those she despised him more than she could describe – but because for the first time he had done something on his own, something that challenged her and her control over him. He had acted like a man, even if he had been a cowardly bastard. He had stopped being another child she had to take care of. And as she put the next rose in the vase she realised that the hatred and desire for revenge aroused by his infidelity was a reaction to the fact that she had actually seen something in him that she could look up to and respect.

His own will.

And now she could have him back.

But it was the old Henrik who stood here now, the Henrik she was used to. She had never in all these years permitted herself to question their relationship – a commitment was a commitment. She had never allowed herself to admit the contempt she felt for his weakness, that he let her control him. With his betrayal he had opened her eyes, and there was no turning back. He had degraded and deceived her; now he had suddenly changed his mind and wanted to come back.

She was the one who would have to make the decision.

And bear the blame forever.

The phone rang. She went over to it and answered, thankful for the respite.

‘Eva.’

‘Hi, I just wanted to see whether you’d got hold of the surveyor yet.’

She glanced quickly at Henrik, wondering whether he could hear what her father was saying.

He stood with his arms crossed, watching her intently. She couldn’t tell if he could hear anything.

‘I haven’t got to it yet, can I call you a little later?’

‘Sure.’

‘Good, I’ll do that. See you later.’

She hung up and put down the phone.

‘Who was that?’

‘Pappa.’

He was satisfied with that. Didn’t ask what he wanted.

She went back to the roses although they were already arranged in the vase; she had to have something to do to maintain the distance between them.

‘Janne says to say hello, by the way.’

She landed gratefully in this neutral topic of conversation.

‘Mm-hmm. How are they doing these days?’

‘They’re fine. He said he saw you at some lunch place a while back.’

‘Oh, he did?’

‘You didn’t seem to see him. He joked and wondered what sort of lamb meat you were out to lunch with.’

She picked up the vase and headed for the living room.

‘Lamb meat?’

‘Yes, you were eating lunch with some young man.’

‘I don’t remember that, when did he say it was?’

As far as she could recall, she hadn’t eaten lunch with anyone but her colleagues in a very long time. And they were definitely not lamb meat.

‘A week or so ago, maybe. I’m not sure.’

He had followed her into the living room.

‘It couldn’t have been me. He must be mistaken.’

He stood there a second in silence, and she pretended to arrange the bloody roses one more time. Then he finally left; she could hear his steps going down the stairs.

Her gaze fell on one of Axel’s toy cars, and she suddenly remembered that she forgot to tell him about the man at day-care, that Axel had spent the night and all day at her parents’ house. And she also realised that she had to be the one to pick him up; she had to keep Henrik away from her parents. At least until everything was ready. After that it wouldn’t matter.

The living room was warm and smelled stuffy; the sun was shining in and she opened the balcony door a bit before she went back to the kitchen and opened the dishwasher. Another task to hide behind for a while. She heard him come up the stairs, saw him out of the corner of her eye as he walked past the doorway and noticed with gratitude that he kept going towards the bedroom.

The confusion she felt was so complete that she had a hard time remembering where the china she was taking out of the dishwasher was supposed to go. She had thought she was in full control over events, but now all her assumptions had changed, all the bits of the puzzle had been tossed up in the air and had fallen in disarray. She would have to back up a few steps in her plan of action to regain control. What consequences would the article she had put in Simon’s mother’s mailbox have now? She no longer knew. She didn’t give a damn what happened to Linda, but perhaps her own actions would now work against her plan. She needed time to think.

She saw Henrik pass by the kitchen doorway again, on his way from the bedroom. This time without even looking at her. If she lay down on the bed and pretended to take a nap, she would have time to think in peace and quiet. She had stayed home from work because she had a sore throat, after all.

She went into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. There was a red book lying on the bedspread with a little padlock on the side. And her black lace bra that she had humiliated herself by buying in another life. She sank down on the bed. What did he mean by this? Hadn’t he crossed the line now? She quickly put the bra back in