him and listened. It was only after a while that things had got so screwed up.
It was quiet in the house. Rune had gone off to work, pleased that he'd confirmed what he already thought he knew, that all the accusations against Kaj were utterly groundless. He would probably sit in the lunchroom and loudly complain about how the police made unfounded accusations.
Sebastian got up from the bed and prepared to leave. He stopped in the doorway and turned round. He looked at each and every one of them and gave them a curt nod, as if in greeting. Clint, Sly, Arnold, Jean-Claude and Dolph. The ones who were everything he was not.
For a moment he thought he saw them nod back.
The adrenaline was still pumping after the encounter with his lather, and Niclas felt sufficiently belligerent to take on the next person with whom he had a score to settle.
He drove down Galarbacken and stopped short when he saw that Jeanette was in her shop, busily preparing to stay open on All Saints' Day. He parked the car and went inside. For the first time since they'd met he felt no tingle in his loins when he saw her. He felt only a sour, metallic distaste, both for himself and for her.
'What the hell do you think you're doing?'
Jeanette turned round and gave Niclas a cold look when he slammed the door behind him, making the 'Open' sign flutter.
'I don't know what you're talking about.' She turned her back to him and continued unpacking a box of knick-knacks to price and put up on the shelves.
'You certainly do. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You've been to the police and told them some cops-and-robbers story about how I forced you to lie and give me an alibi. How fucking low can you sink? Is it revenge you're after, or do you just enjoy making trouble? What the hell were you thinking? I lost my daughter a week ago. Can't you understand that I don't want to keep going behind my wife's back anymore?'
'You promised me,' said Jeanette with flashing eyes. 'You promised that we'd be together, that you'd divorce Charlotte, that we'd have kids together. You promised me a hell of a lot, Niclas.'
'So, why the fuck do you think I did that? Because you loved hearing it. Because you willingly spread your legs when you heard those promises about a ring and a future. Because I wanted to have a little fun with you in bed once in a while. I can't believe you're so fucking dumb that you believed me. You know the game as well as I do. You've had your share of married men before, I'm sure,' he said rudely, watching her flinch at each word, as if he'd slapped her. But he didn't care. He'd already crossed the line and had no desire to show a sensitive side or spare her feelings. Now only the pure, unadulterated truth was appropriate, and after what she'd done, she deserved to hear it.
'You fucking pig,' said Jeanette, reaching for one of the objects she was unpacking. In the next instant a porcelain lighthouse whistled towards his head, but it missed and hit the display window instead. With a deafening crash the pane shattered and big chunks of glass came sliding down. The silence that followed was so complete that it echoed off the walls. Like two combatants they stared at each other as mutual rage made their chests heave. Then Niclas turned on his heel and walked calmly out of the shop. The only sound was the glass crunching under his shoes.
Arne stood in helpless silence and watched while she packed. If Asta hadn't been so determined, the sight of him would have surprised her so much that she would have stopped what she was doing. Arne had never before been helpless. But her fury kept her hands at work, folding clothes and placing them in the biggest suitcase they owned. She didn't yet know how she was going to lug it out of the house, or where she would go. It didn't matter. She didn't intend to stay one more minute in the same house with him. Finally the scales had fallen from her eyes. That feeling of dissonance that she'd always had, the feeling that things might not be the way that Arne said, had finally taken over. He wasn't all-powerful. He wasn't perfect. He was merely a weak, pathetic man who enjoyed bullying other people. And then there was his belief in God. It probably didn't go very deep. Asta saw clearly now how he used the word of God in a way that strangely enough always matched his own views. If God was like Arne's God, then she wanted no part of his faith.
'But Asta, I don't understand. Why are you doing this?'
His voice was whiny like a little boy's, and she didn't even feel like answering him. He stood there in the doorway wringing his hands as he watched her remove one item of clothing after another from the drawers and wardrobes. She didn't intend to come back, so it was best that she take everything all at once.
'Where are you going to go? You have nowhere to go!'
Now he was begging her, but the extraordinary nature of the situation only made her shudder. She tried not to think of all the years she'd wasted; fortunately she was cast in a pragmatic mould. What was done was done. But she didn't intend to waste even one more day of her life.
Acutely aware that the situation was about to slip out of his grasp, Arne now attempted a more tried and true method. He thought he could gain control by raising his voice.
'Asta, you have to stop all this nonsense! Unpack your clothes at once!'
For an instant she did stop packing, but only long enough to give him a look that summed up forty years of oppression. She gathered all her wrath, all her hatred, and tossed it back at him. To her satisfaction she saw him recoil and then shrink before her gaze. When he spoke again it was in a quiet, pitiful voice. The voice of a man who realized that he'd for ever lost control.
'I didn't mean… I mean, of course I shouldn't have spoken to the girl that way, I realize that now. But she lacked all respect, and when she behaved so stubbornly towards me I could hear the voice of God telling me that I was compelled to intervene, and -'
Asta cut him off. 'Arne Antonsson. God has never spoken to you. He never will. You're too stupid and deaf for that. As for all that nonsense I've listened to for forty years about how you never had a chance to become a pastor because your father drank up all the money – you should know that it wasn't money that was lacking. Your mother kept a tight grip on the pursestrings and didn't let your father drink up more than was necessary. But she told me before she died that she had no intention of throwing their money away by sending you to seminary school. She may have been an unkind woman, but she had a clear head, and she could see that you weren't suited to be a pastor.'
Arne gasped for breath and stared at her as he slowly turned more and more pale. For a moment she thought he was having a heart attack, and felt herself softening inside against her will. But then she turned on her heel and marched out of the house. She slowly let the air seep out between her lips. She took no pleasure in destroying him, but in the end he'd given her no choice.
GOTEBORG 1954
She didn't understand how she could keep doing so many things wrong. Once again she had ended up here in the cellar, and the dark seemed to make the wound on her bottom hurt that much more. It was the buckle on the belt that had torn open the wound. Mother only used the end with the buckle when she had been really bad. If only she could understand what was so terrible about taking a tiny little biscuit. They had looked so good, and the cook had made so many that nobody would notice if one was missing. But sometimes she wondered whether her mother sensed it when she was about to stuff something good in her mouth. Mother would come sneaking up behind her without a sound, just as her hand was going to close around something delicious. Then all she could do was steel herself and hope that Mother was having a good day so that it would be one of the milder punishments.
At first she had tried to give Father a beseeching look, but he always looked away. He would pick up his newspaper and go out to sit on the veranda while Mother dispensed whatever punishment she'd chosen. She no longer even tried to get any help from him.
She was shivering from the cold. Little rustling sounds became magnified in her mind as she pictured gigantic rats and enormous spiders, and she could hear them getting closer. It was so hard to keep track of time. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting down here in the dark, but judging by the
