go outside, supposedly to have a smoke, or if people outside the club sell them alcohol.’
‘There must be some kids who smuggle booze inside, right?’
‘Sure. But we can’t frisk everybody. That’s just how it is.’
He shrugged again and went back to work.
Johan finished his beer and left.
Outside it was just as lively as inside. Teenagers stood around smoking. A bunch of boys were laughing loudly as they tossed around a beer bottle. One young couple was wrapped in a tight embrace, kissing and not caring who saw them. And a little girl sat a short distance away, her head in her hands. She looked as if she wasn’t feeling well. Johan sat down next to her.
‘How’s it going?’
Cautiously he placed a hand on her thin shoulder. When she looked up, he gave a start. The girl wore dramatic make-up but she didn’t look older than twelve or thirteen. Her eyes were half-closed, and her face was very pale.
‘I feel sick.’
She didn’t manage to say anything more before she threw up. He helped her clean herself up. She started crying, and he did his best to console her.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Pernilla.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘Hemse.’
Good Lord, thought Johan. What kind of parents would let a young girl like this stay out late at night so far from home? And, to cap it all, drunk. He searched her jacket pockets and pulled out a mobile that showed several missed calls from her mother. He rang the number. He heard loud music in the background and a laughing woman’s voice answered.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, my name is Johan Berg, and I’m sitting here with your daughter, Pernilla.’
‘Yes?’
‘We’re in Visby, and I’m sorry to tell you that your daughter is extremely drunk.’
The voice now sounded worried.
‘What? Are you sure?’
‘It would be best if you came to get her. She can’t make it home on her own.’
Now he heard several agitated voices in the background.
After a minute the woman was back on the line.
‘OK, my husband is coming. Where are you?’
Johan gave her directions to the Solo Club.
The girl threw up a few more times. She had no idea where her friends had gone. When Johan asked her how old she was, she said she was twelve. Good Lord, he thought. That means she’s just a year older than Emma’s daughter Sara. Is Sara going to be sitting here like this a year from now?
He stayed for almost an hour, helping Pernilla vomit up all the alcohol she’d consumed. Finally a car pulled up and parked. A man his own age got out, dressed in jeans and a shirt, looking stressed. Right behind him was a very pregnant woman. She was the one who had driven the car.
‘Oh, sweetie,’ cried the man, taking the girl in his arms. ‘How are you feeling? Come on, let’s get you home. Where are Agnes and Mimmi?’
He got her into the car as he continued to ask questions. He briefly thanked Johan for his help before they sped away.
Feeling depressed, Johan walked back through town to the office. He pictured Sara’s sweet, innocent face. She had already started to use make-up once in a while. Was this what awaited her, right around the corner? He shuddered at the thought. At the same time, it seemed disturbing that the partying at the Solo Club was going on as usual, only a day after Alexander Almlov had died.
Exactly as if the assault had never happened.
SHE WAS AWAKENED by a fit of coughing. A suffocating smell. Her eyes were running. She immediately jumped out of bed, realizing to her horror that she was surrounded by thick smoke. When she went to bed, she had deliberately closed the bedroom door since she had nearly scared herself silly imagining that someone was outside.
The smoke was coming through the gaps around the door, and the heat was unbearable. For a moment she closed her eyes as she shut her mouth tight. The bedroom was at the very back of the cabin, behind the kitchen. Her first thought was to tear open the door and get out, but as soon as she touched the metal door handle, she knew that the rest of the house must be in flames. Instead she picked up the floor lamp and rammed it against the window to break the glass. Her eyes were burning so badly that she could hardly keep them open. The smoke was making her dizzy. She tried to breathe in as little as possible. Then she plunged headlong out of the window and on to the lawn. Feeling sick and in shock, she began crawling away, trying to get as far from the fire as she could. She didn’t dare turn around until she’d made it all the way over to the privy. She sat on the ground, leaning against the wall, and watched, dumbfounded, as the drama unfolded before her. The cabin was totally engulfed, the flames shooting high up into the air, an angry inferno against the night sky. There was nothing she could do but sit there as the house, in which she’d spent so many summers and which had given her so many good memories, burned to ashes before her eyes. She hadn’t managed to take a single thing with her. Her mind and her body were both numb; she didn’t dare allow herself to feel anything.
There was no one else around. It was just her and the fire. She had no means of communicating with the rest of the world. She had no mobile, and the nearest neighbouring farm was several kilometres away. For a moment she drifted off, feeling as though she might fall asleep.
Only then did she hear the sirens.
KNUTAS COULDN’T SLEEP. He tossed and turned in bed. After several hours of fruitless attempts, he finally gave up. He slipped out of bed and went downstairs to the kitchen where he poured himself a glass of milk and got out a packet of biscuits. With a sigh he sat down at the table. The cat hopped up next to his plate and rubbed his hand, wanting to be petted. At least you like me, he thought morosely. The argument with Nils had proved a brutal wake-up call. He’d had no idea that the distance between them was so great. He cursed himself. How could he have been so clueless? So selfish?
The children provided a crystal-clear mirror that ruthlessly exposed every flaw and defect that he possessed as a parent. The degree of trust, love and solidarity the children displayed was a manifestation of his success as a father. How did they behave at home? What were they willing to share without being asked? How much love did they voluntarily express? He had merely walked about, blind to what was going on around him. It was Lina who took the kids out to the country on weekends; she was the one who drove them to football matches and practice sessions; she was the one who did most of the cleaning and cooking. He had been so wrapped up in his job that he hadn’t been paying attention.
The guilt that he felt was almost too much to bear.
MAYBE IT’S THE regular conversations that are causing the haze before my eyes to disperse. The fog is starting to lift. My vision is clearer, even though I feel worse. The headaches clamp even more tightly around my forehead.
We’re sitting in that room, as usual, resting in the silence for a while.
If I turn my head and the light slants in from the side, the plaster rose in the ceiling looks like a person with a huge mouth. Maybe it’s my mother’s jaws that just keep getting bigger the more things you try to stuff inside. Her sense of dissatisfaction grows with each day, month and year that passes. She always has something new to complain about. New problems, new obstacles, new spanners thrown into the works. It’s the end of the world the minute life doesn’t flow smoothly. She’s constantly searching for new sources of wood to throw on her bonfire of wretchedness. Hungrily she swings her axe at the smallest thing that might sustain her misery. Sometimes it feels as if my brain is about to boil over.
