Something snapped inside her, and her hand opened as if of its own accord. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces on the black pebble-tile floor. The floor was also from Italy, of course. That was one of many things that Erik had in common with his parents: anything Swedish was never good enough. The farther away the origin of something, the better. Just as long as it didn’t come from Taiwan. Louise sniggered, reached for another glass, and stepped over the shards on the floor, her feet clad in house slippers. Then she made a beeline for the boxed wine on the counter. Erik always ridiculed her boxed wine. For him, the only acceptable wine came in a bottle and cost hundreds of kronor. He would never dream of sullying his taste buds with wine that cost two hundred kronor per box. Sometimes, out of sheer spite, she would fill his glass with her wine instead of the snooty French or South African variety that was always accompanied by long-winded discourses on their particular characteristics. Strangely enough, it seemed that her cheap wine possessed the exact same qualities, since Erik never noticed the difference.
It was those sorts of minor acts of revenge that made her life bearable – the only way she was able to ignore the fact that he kept trying to turn the girls against her, treated her like shit, and was fucking a bloody hairdresser.
Louise held the glass under the tap of the wine box and filled it to the brim. Then she raised her glass in a toast to her own reflection, visible in the stainless steel door of the fridge.
Erica couldn’t stop thinking about the letters. She wandered through the house for a while, until a dull pain started up in the small of her back, forcing her to sit down at the kitchen table. She reached for a notepad and a pen that were lying on the table and began hastily jotting down what she could remember from the letters she’d seen at Christian’s house. She had a good memory for text, so she was almost positive that she’d managed to recreate what the letters had said.
She read through what she’d written over and over again, and with each reading the short sentences seemed to sound more and more threatening. Who would have cause to feel such anger towards Christian? Erica shook her head as she sat there at the table. It was impossible to tell whether a woman or a man had written those letters. But there was something about the tone and the way in which the views were expressed that made her think she was reading a woman’s hatred. Not a man’s.
Hesitantly she reached for the cordless phone, then drew back her hand. Maybe she was just being silly. But after re-reading the words she’d jotted down on the notepad, she grabbed the phone and punched in the mobile number she knew by heart.
‘This is Gaby,’ said the publishing director, picking up the phone on the first ring.
‘Hi, it’s Erica.’
‘Erica!’ Gaby’s shrill voice went up another octave, prompting Erica to move the receiver away from her ear. ‘How’s it going, dearie? No babies yet? You do know that twins usually arrive early, don’t you?’ It sounded as if Gaby were running.
‘No, the babies aren’t here yet,’ said Erica, trying to restrain her annoyance. She didn’t understand why everybody was always telling her that twins were usually born early. If that was the case, she’d find out soon enough. ‘I’m actually calling you about Christian.’
‘Oh, how is he?’ asked Gaby. ‘I tried ringing him several times, but his little wife just told me he wasn’t home, which I don’t believe for a minute. It was so awful, the way he passed out like that. He has his first book-signings tomorrow, and we really ought to let them know if we need to cancel, which would be terribly unfortunate.’
‘I went to see him, and I’m sure he’ll be fine to attend the book-signings. You don’t have to worry about that,’ said Erica, preparing to bring up the real topic she wanted to discuss. She took in as deep a breath as her highly constricted lung capacity would allow and said, ‘There’s something I wanted to talk to you about…’
‘Sure, fire away.’
‘Have you received anything at the publishing house that might concern Christian?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Er, well, I was just wondering if you’d received any letters or emails about Christian, or addressed to him. Anything that sounded threatening?’
‘Hate mail?’
Erica was starting to feel more and more like a child tattling on a classmate, but it was too late to back out now.
‘Yes. The thing is that Christian has been getting threatening letters for the past year and a half, pretty much ever since he started writing his book. And I can tell that he’s upset, even though he refuses to admit it. I thought that maybe something might have been sent to the publishing house too.’
‘I can’t believe what you’re telling me, but no, we haven’t seen anything like that. Is there a name on the letters? Does Christian know who they’re from?’ Gaby stumbled over her words, and the sound of her high heels clacking on the pavement was gone, so she must have stopped.
‘They’re all anonymous, and I don’t think Christian has any idea who sent them. But you know how he is. I’m not sure he’d tell anyone even if he did know. If it hadn’t been for Sanna, I wouldn’t have heard a word about it. Or about the fact that he collapsed at the party on Wednesday because the card attached to a bouquet of flowers delivered to him seemed to be from the same person who wrote the letters.’
‘That sounds totally insane! Does this have anything to do with his book?’
‘I asked Christian the same question. But he told me very firmly that no one would be able to able to recognize themselves in what he’s written.’
‘Well, this is certainly dreadful. You must let me know if you find out anything else, all right?’
‘Yes, I’ll try,’ said Erica. ‘And please don’t tell Christian that I said anything about all this.’
‘Of course not. It’s just between you and me. I’ll keep an eye on any correspondence we receive that’s addressed to Christian. We’ll probably be getting a few things now that the book is in the shops.’
‘Great reviews, by the way,’ said Erica, to change the subject.
‘Yes, it’s just wonderful!’ exclaimed Gaby with such enthusiasm that again Erica had to move the receiver away from her ear. ‘I’ve already heard Christian’s name mentioned in connection with the prestigious August Prize. Not to mention that we’ve printed ten thousand hardbacks that are on their way to the booksellers at this very minute.’
‘That’s incredible,’ said Erica, her heart leaping with pride. She of all people knew how hard Christian had worked on that manuscript, and she was tremendously pleased that his efforts seemed about to bear fruit.
‘It certainly is,’ chirped Gaby. ‘Dearie, I can’t talk any more right now. I’ve got to make a little phone call.’
There was something in Gaby’s last remark that made Erica uneasy. She should have stopped to consider the situation before phoning the publisher. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to get so worked up. As if to confirm her misgivings, one of the twins gave her a hard kick in the ribs.
It was such a strange sensation to be happy. Anna had gradually come to accept the feeling, and she was even starting to get used to it. But it had been a long time since she’d felt this way. If ever.
‘Give it back!’ Belinda came racing after Lisen, Dan’s youngest daughter, who hid behind Anna with a shriek. In her hand she was clutching her older sister’s hairbrush.
‘I didn’t say you could borrow it! Give it back!’
‘Anna…’ Lisen pleaded, but Anna pulled the child around to face her, keeping a light hold on her shoulder.
‘If you took Belinda’s brush without asking, you’ll have to give it back.’
‘See, I told you so!’ said Belinda.
Anna gave her a warning look.
‘As for you, Belinda – you don’t really need to go chasing your little sister through the whole house.’
Belinda shrugged. ‘It’s her own fault if she takes my things.’
‘Just wait until little brother is here,’ said Lisen. ‘He’ll break everything you own!’
‘I’m going to be moving out soon, so it’s your stuff he’s going to be wrecking!’ said Belinda, sticking out her tongue.
‘Hey, come on now. Are you eighteen or five?’ said Anna, but she couldn’t help laughing. ‘And why are the two of you so sure that it’s going to be a boy?’
‘Because Mamma says that if somebody has as big a rear end as you do, it’s bound to be a boy.’
