‘But I’ve helped out as much as I could,’ Patrik protested. ‘Helped out, sure,’ said Karin, steering the pushchair and moving ahead as they came to a narrow stretch of road leading to Badholmen. ‘But there’s a huge difference between “helping out” and being the one who has to shoulder most of the responsibility. It’s not so simple to work out how to calm a crying baby, or how and when he needs to eat, or how to keep yourself and the child busy for at least five days a week, usually without any type of adult companionship. It’s a whole other matter to be the CEO of Baby Incorporated, compared with just being an assistant standing on the sidelines, taking inventory.’
‘But you can’t just lump all fathers together like that,’ said Patrik as he manoeuvred the pushchair up the steep hill. ‘Often the mothers don’t want to relinquish control, and if the husband does change a nappy, she’ll say he’s done it wrong, or if he feeds the baby, she’ll say he’s not holding the bottle properly, and so on. It’s not always so easy for the fathers to participate in that CEO role you’re talking about.’
Karin didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Then she looked at Patrik and said, ‘Was Erica like that, when she stayed home with Maja? Refusing to let you participate?’ She waited for his answer.
Patrik thought hard for a moment and then was forced to admit: ‘No, she wasn’t. I think I was actually glad not to have the major responsibility. When Maja was unhappy and I tried to comfort her, it was nice to know that, no matter how much she cried, I could always hand her over to Erica if I couldn’t get her to calm down. And Erica would take care of things. And it was great to go off to work every morning, knowing I’d come home to a big welcome from Maja in the evening.’
‘And in the meantime you got your dose of the adult world,’ said Karin drily. ‘So how are things now that you do have the major responsibility? Everything okay?’
Patrik thought for a moment and then had to shake his head. ‘Well, I haven’t exactly received top marks as a stay-at-home dad. But it’s not easy. Erica works at home, you see, and she knows where everything is and…’ He shook his head again.
‘That sounds so familiar. Every time Leif comes home, he stands there shouting: “Karin! Where are the nappies?!” Sometimes I wonder how you men manage to do your jobs at all, since at home you can’t remember where anything’s kept.’
‘Oh, come on now,’ said Patrik, giving Karin a poke in the side. ‘We’re not that helpless. Give us a little credit, okay? Only a generation ago men would never have changed their kids’ nappies, and we’ve come a long way since then. But you can’t make these kinds of transformations overnight. Our fathers were our role models, they’re the ones who influenced us, and it takes time to adapt. But we’re doing the best we can.’
‘Maybe
Patrik didn’t reply. There was really nothing to say. And when they parted in Salvik at the intersection near Norderviken Sailing Club, he felt both sad and pensive. For a long time he’d harboured bad feelings towards Karin because of the way she’d betrayed him. Now he just felt enormously sorry for her.
The phone call to the station had them jumping into a police car immediately. Mellberg, as usual, had muttered some excuse and hurried to his office, but Martin, Paula, and Gosta had raced off to Tanumshede secondary school. On arrival, they’d been directed to the principal’s office and since this wasn’t their first trip to the school, Martin had no trouble finding the way.
‘What’s happened here?’ He glanced around the room; a surly-looking teenager sat on a chair, flanked by the principal and two men, whom Martin guessed were teachers.
‘Per beat up one of our students,’ said the principal grimly as he sat down behind his desk. ‘I’m glad you got here so fast.’
‘How is the student doing?’ asked Paula.
‘It doesn’t look good. The school nurse is with him, and an ambulance is on the way. I’ve phoned Per’s mother. She should be here soon.’ The principal glared at the boy, who responded with an indifferent yawn.
‘You’ll have to come down to the police station with us,’ said Martin, signalling for Per to stand up. He turned to the principal. ‘See if you can reach his mother before she gets here, otherwise you’ll just have to ask her to meet us at the station. My colleague, Paula Morales, will stay here and interview any witnesses to the attack.’
‘I’ll get started right away,’ Paula said, making for the door.
Per was still sporting the same indifferent expression as he sauntered down the corridor with the police officers. A large crowd of curious students had gathered, and Per reacted to the attention by grinning and giving them the finger.
‘Fucking idiots,’ he muttered.
Gosta gave him a sharp look. ‘Keep your mouth shut until we get to the station.’
Per shrugged but obeyed. As they drove back to the squat building that housed both the police and the fire brigade, he sat staring out of the window in silence.
When they reached the station, they put the boy in an interview room and waited for his mother to arrive. Martin’s mobile rang. He listened with interest and then turned to Gosta, a pensive look on his face.
‘That was Paula,’ he said. ‘Do you know who Per beat up?’
‘No, is it somebody we know?’
‘You bet. Mattias Larsson, one of the boys who found Erik Frankel. They’re taking him to the hospital now. So we’ll need to interview him later on.’
Gosta received this information without comment, but Martin saw that his face had turned pale.
Ten minutes later Carina came running through the front door into the reception area, out of breath and asking for her son. Annika calmly brought her to Martin’s office.
‘Where’s Per? What has he done?’ She was fighting back the tears and sounded on the verge of hysteria. Martin shook hands with her as he introduced himself. Formalities and familiar routines often had a calming effect. As they did now. Carina repeated her questions, but in a more subdued tone of voice, and then she sat down on the chair that Martin offered her. He grimaced as he sat down at his desk, recognizing a familiar smell emanating from the woman across from him. Stale booze. Maybe she’d been to a party the day before. But he didn’t think so. Her slightly bloated features were one of the tell-tale signs of alcoholism.
‘According to the report from the school, Per assaulted a fellow pupil.’
‘Oh, dear God,’ she said, gripping the armrests of her chair. ‘How…? The boy, is he…’ She couldn’t finish the sentence.
‘He’s being taken to the hospital. Apparently he was severely beaten.’
‘But why?’ She swallowed hard, shaking her head.
‘That’s what we aim to find out. We have Per in one of the interview rooms here, and we need your permission to ask him some questions.’
Carina nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’ She swallowed hard again.
‘All right then. Let’s go and have a talk with Per.’ Martin led the way. He paused in the corridor to knock on the door jamb of Gosta’s office. ‘Come with us. We’re going to have a talk with the boy.’
Carina and Gosta shook hands, and then all three of them went into the room where Per was waiting, trying to look as if the whole business bored him. But he lost his composure the minute he saw his mother come in. Not entirely, but there was a slight twitch at the corner of his eye. A trembling in his hands. Then he forced himself to resume the indifferent expression and turned his gaze towards the wall.
‘Per, what have you done now?’ Carina’s voice rose in pitch as she sat down next to her son and went to put her arm around him. He shook her off and refused to answer.
Martin and Gosta sat across from Per and Carina, and Martin switched on the recorder. From habit, he had also brought along a pen and notepad, which he placed on the table. Then he rattled off the date and time for the sake of the recording and cleared his throat.
‘All right, Per, can you tell us what happened? By the way, Mattias has been taken to the hospital. In case you were wondering.’
Per merely smiled.
‘Per!’ His mother poked him in the side with her elbow. ‘You need to answer the question. And of course you were worried about the boy! Right?’ Her voice was shrill, and her son still refused to look at her.
‘Let’s give Per time to answer,’ said Gosta, winking at Carina to calm her down.
They sat in silence, waiting for the fifteen-year-old to respond. Finally he tossed his head and said, ‘That Mattias talks a load of shit.’
‘What kind of “shit”?’ said Martin, keeping his voice friendly. ‘Could you be a little more precise?’
