furious. And he didn't know if he entirely succeeded in hiding his fury.'Hello,' he said, sitting down across from her.
'Late as usual,' she said. 'And you've really put on weight!'
She had to start off with an insult. Not even a friendly word, no affection.'But you look just the same. You've got a lovely tan.' 'We spent a week in Madeira.'
Madeira. First Paris, then Madeira. Their honeymoon. The hotel perched way out on the cliffs, the little fish restaurant down by the beach. And now she had been there again. With someone else.'I see,' he said. 'I thought Madeira was our island.'
'Don't be childish!''I mean it!''Then you are being childish.''Of course I'm childish! What's wrong with that?'
The conversation was spinning out of control. When a friendly waitress came to their table it was like being rescued from a deep hole in the ice.
The wine arrived and the mood improved. Wallander sat looking at the woman who had been his wife and thought that she was extremely beautiful. He tried to avoid thoughts that gave him a sharp stab of jealousy.
He did his best to give the impression of being very calm, which he definitely was not. They said
'No,' she said. 'You have to understand that it's finished. All over.'
'I went to the station while I was waiting for you,' he said. 'I saw Linda there.' 'Linda?''You seem surprised.''I thought she was in Stockholm.'
'What would she be doing in Stockholm?' 'She was supposed to visit a college to see if it might be the right place for her.' 'I'm not blind. It was her.' 'Did you talk to her?'
Wallander shook his head. 'She was just getting onto a train. I didn't have time.' 'Which train?''Lund or Landskrona. She was with an African.' 'That's good, at least.' 'What do you mean by that?'
'I mean that Herman is the best thing that's happened to Linda in a long time.' 'Herman?'
'Herman Mboya. He's from Kenya.' 'He was wearing purple overalls!' 'He does have an amusing way of dressing sometimes.''What's he doing in Sweden?''He's in medical school. He'll be a doctor soon.'Wallander listened in amazement. Was she pulling his
leg? 'A doctor?'
'Yes! A doctor! A physician, or whatever you call it. He's warm, thoughtful, and has a good sense of humour.' 'Do they live together?' 'He has a student flat in Lund.' 'I asked you if they were living together!' 'I think Linda has finally decided.' 'Decided what?' 'To move in with him.''Then how can she go to the college in Stockholm?' 'It was Herman who suggested that.'
The waitress refilled their glasses. Wallander could feel himself starting to get drunk.
'She called me one day,' he said. 'She was in Ystad. But she never came to say hello. If you see her, you can tell her that I miss her.''She does what she wants.''All I'm asking is for you to tell her!''I will! Don't shout!''I'm not shouting!'
Just then the roast beef arrived. They ate in silence. Wallander couldn't taste a thing. He ordered another bottle of wine and wondered how he was going to get home.
'You seem to be well,' he said.She nodded, firmly and maybe defiantly too.
'And you?'
'I'm having a hell of a time. Otherwise, everything's fine.''What was it you wanted to talk to me about?'
He had forgotten that he had been supposed to think of an excuse for their meeting. Now he had no idea what to say. The truth, he thought wryly. Why not try the truth?
'I just wanted to see you,' he said. 'The other stuff was all lies.'She smiled.'I'm glad that we could see each other,' she said.Suddenly he burst into tears.'I miss you terribly,' he mumbled.
She reached out her hand and put it on his. But she said nothing. And it was in that instant that Wallander knew that it was over. The divorce wouldn't change anything. Maybe they'd have dinner once in a while. But their lives were irreversibly going in different directions. Her silence told him that.
He started thinking about Anette Brolin. And the black woman who visited him in his dreams. He had been unprepared for loneliness. Now he would be forced to accept it and maybe gradually build a new life.'Tell me one thing,' he said. 'Why did you leave me?'
'If I hadn't left you, I would have died,' she said. 'I wish you could understand that it wasn't your fault. I was the one who felt the separation was necessary, I was the one who decided. One day you'll understand what I mean.''I want to understand now.'
When they were about to leave she wanted to pay her share. But he insisted he'd pay and she gave in.'How are you getting home?' she asked.
'There's a night bus,' he replied. 'How are you getting home?''I'm walking,' she said.'I'll walk with you part of the way.'She shook her head.
'We'll say goodbye here,' she said. 'That would be best. But call me again sometime. I want to stay in touch.'
She kissed him quickly on the cheek. He watched her walk across the canal bridge with a vigorous stride. When she disappeared between the Savoy and the tourist bureau, he followed her. Earlier that evening he had shadowed his daughter. Now he was tailing his wife.
Near the television shop at the corner of Stortorget a car was waiting. She got into the front seat. Wallander ducked into a stairwell as the car drove past. He had a quick glimpse of the man behind the wheel.
He walked to his car. There was no night bus to Ystad. He stopped at a phone box and called Anette Brolin at home. When she answered he hung up at once. He got back into his car and pushed in the Maria (Dallas cassette and closed his eyes.
He woke up with a start because he was cold. He had slept for almost two hours. Even though he wasn't sober, he decided to drive home. He would take the back roads through Svedala and Svaneholm. That way he wouldn't risk running into any police patrols.
But he did. He had completely forgotten that the night patrols from Ystad were watching the refugee camps. And he was the one who had given the order.
Peters and Noren came upon an erratic driver between Svaneholm and Slimminge, after they had checked that everything was quiet at Hageholm. Normally either of them would have recognised Wallander's car, but it didn't occur to them that he might be out driving around at this time of night. Besides, the licence plate was so covered with mud that it was unreadable. Not until they had stopped the car and knocked on the windscreen, and Wallander had rolled down the window did they recognise their acting chief.
None of them said a word. Noren's torch shone into Wallander's bloodshot eyes.'Everything quiet?' Wallander asked finally.Noren and Peters looked at each other.'Yes,' said Peters. 'Everything seems quiet.'
'That's good,' said Wallander, about to roll up the window.Then Noren stepped forward.'You'd better get out of the car,' he said. 'Now, right away.'
Wallander looked questioningly at the face he could hardly recognise in the sharp glare from the torch. Then he did as he was told. He got out of the car. The night was cold. He was freezing.Something had come to an end.
CHAPTER 9
