Betrayal (8 page)

Perhaps that was just what people should do, all the stressed-out people who were trying in vain to make their lives work. Sit down and wait to catch up. But weren’t they already sitting there all together? Not exactly waiting for their souls, but they were all sitting in their own cosy living rooms, so that they could get completely involved in all the docu-soaps on their TV sets. Act shocked at the shortcomings of others and their inability to handle relationships. How did people cope, really? And then quickly change the channel to avoid taking a look at their own behaviour. So much easier to sit in judgement over others’ behaviour from a distance.

She opened the door to Axel’s section of the day-care centre and stepped inside, pulling on the light-blue plastic slippers and continuing towards the staff room. She saw them through the glass window in the door and stopped. He was sitting on Linda’s lap eating a ginger snap. His hand was wrapped around a lock of her blonde hair and she was rocking him back and forth with her lips against his head.

The anger that had kept her going sank away and again opened up to the devastating powerlessness.

How could she ever protect him from everything that happened?

Don’t cry here.

She swallowed, opened the door and went in.

‘Look, here comes Mamma.’

Axel let go of Linda’s hair and hopped down to the floor. Linda smiled to her, shyly as always. Eva made an effort to smile back and lifted Axel into her arms, as Linda got up and came over to them.

‘He got a little bump there, but I don’t think it’s too serious. I told them not to go on the slide after it rained, it’s so slippery then but . . . They probably forgot.’

‘Feel, Mamma.’

She felt the little swelling on the back of his head. It was hardly noticeable and definitely nothing Linda should feel guilty about.

‘It’s nothing serious. It could have happened anywhere.’

Linda smiled shyly again and went towards the door.

‘We’ll see you tomorrow then, Axel. Bye.’

They held each other’s hand on the way home. When Axel had got over his anger at having to walk and not ride in the car as they usually did, he seemed to enjoy the walk.

A welcome respite.

He was the only one talking. She walked in silence and replied in monosyllables when necessary.

‘And then when Ellinor took the ball we got mad and then Simon hit her on the leg with the stick but Linda said that you couldn’t do that and then we couldn’t play any more.’

He kicked at a pebble.

‘Linda is really nice.’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you think Linda is nice too?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘That’s good, because Pappa does too.’

Yes. When he’s not fucking someone in the shower at home.

‘Of course he does.’

He kicked the pebble again, farther this time.

‘Yes, he does, because one time when we were having a snack with her he gave her a big hug and they didn’t know I saw.’

Everything stopped and turned white.

‘What is it, Mamma? Aren’t we going to walk any more?’

In a single instant everything turned upside down.

In a second the realisation erased every hint of trust, belief, confidence.

Linda!

It was Linda.

Everything she had believed and could count on had suddenly turned into yet another lie, another betrayal.

That woman, who had just been sitting so protectively with her lips against her son’s skin, whom she had just reassured and told it wasn’t serious, she was the one, she was the person who was trying to destroy their family. Like an amoeba she had wormed her way into their life and hidden her intentions behind her feigned concern.

Was there anything to hold on to? Anything she could trust to be as it should be?

How long had this been going on? Were there any others who knew about it? Maybe all the parents knew. Only she, poor Axel’s jilted mamma, was left in the dark about whether her husband was having a secret affair with their child’s day-care teacher.

The degradation was like a razor blade pressed against her wrist.

‘Mamma, come on.’

She looked around, no longer conscious of where she was. The sound of a car approaching and slowing down. Jakob’s mother rolled down the window.

‘Hi, are you on your way home? You can ride with me if you want.’

Did she know something? Was she one of them who knew and gave her pitying looks behind her back?

‘No.’

‘Please, Mamma, can’t we?’

‘We’re walking.’

Eva gave her a swift glance, took Axel’s hand and pulled him along with her. Jakob’s mother drove alongside.

‘By the way, the parents’ group has to have a meeting soon to plan that Stone-Age camp at the day-care. Do you have time this week?’

It was impossible to answer, there were no words. She quickened her steps. Five metres more to the path across the park. Without answering she turned and pushed Axel in front of her along the path. Behind her she heard the car idle and then drive off.

Linda. How old could she be? Twenty-seven, twenty-eight? She didn’t have any children, Eva knew that at least. And now she had managed to seduce one of her day-care children’s fathers without having
the least idea of what it meant to be responsible for a life.

She looked at the little body in front of her. Colourful red PVC-coated trousers like balloons around his short legs. He started to run when he saw his house.

She stopped.

Axel took a short cut through the lilac hedge and vanished through the front door. Her son in the same house as the traitor. That cowardly shit who didn’t even have the courage to admit his betrayal.

What he had done was unforgivable. She would never ever forgive him for it.

Never.

Ever.

F
or the first time in two years and five months he was going to spend the evening somewhere besides Karolinska Hospital. His anger at Anna’s betrayal would not let him go, and by God he would show her. She could lie there all alone and wonder where he was. Tomorrow he would tell her that he had been at the pub having a good time. Then she’d regret it, realise that she could actually lose him. If she didn’t shape up maybe he would do as they wanted. Let go and move on. Then she could lie there and rot and nobody would give a damn.

The psychotherapist monster had managed to convince him to agree to one more conversation. It had been the only way to get rid of her, which was absolutely necessary just then. Anna hadn’t shown any remorse at all about her betrayal, and the growing compulsion had made him furious. But later he made her understand and it subsided again.

He had walked all the way into town. Drove home and parked the car on the street, and then began his walk without going inside the flat. Followed the path along Årsta Cove and then the old Skanstull Bridge towards Söder. In Götgatsbacken he passed one pub after another, but it only took one look through the
big plate-glass windows to make him carry on. So many people. Even though it was a normal Thursday, people were jammed in everywhere and his courage failed him. He still wasn’t ready to go in anywhere.

Later it was so obvious that he would keep on walking, passing by all the pubs in Söder, continuing north across the locks at Slussen and into Gamla Stan, the Old Town, as if his walk had been predetermined.

He was halfway across Järntorget, heading for Österlånggatan, when he caught sight of her.

A window with a red awning.

On a bar stool, gazing straight out through the window, she sat alone slowly twirling an almost empty beer glass. He stopped abruptly. Stood quite still and stared at her.

The resemblance was striking.

The high cheekbones, the lips. How was it possible for anyone to be so similar? He hadn’t seen her eyes for a long time. Or the hands that never touched him.

So beautiful. So beautiful and utterly alive. Just like before.

He could feel the dull, heavy beats of his heart.

Suddenly she got up and moved farther back in the pub. He couldn’t bear losing sight of her. He hurried the last few metres across the square and without hesitation opened the door and went inside. She was standing by the bar. All fear suddenly gone, only a firm resolve that he had to be near her, hear her voice, speak to her.

The far end of the bar made a ninety-degree turn, and that’s where he sat so he could see her face. It almost made him stop breathing. There was almost
an aura around her. All past longings, all beauty, all that was worthwhile gathered in this body, large as life before him.

Suddenly she turned her head and looked at him. He stopped breathing. Nothing could make him move his gaze from her eyes. She turned to the barman.

‘A pear cider, please.’

The barman took down a glass from the rack above his head and served the cider. She had no ring on her left hand.

‘That’ll be forty-eight kronor.’

She made a move towards her handbag and he didn’t hesitate an instant. Just let the words come as a matter of course.

‘May I buy that for you?’

She turned her eyes towards him again. He saw that she was hesitant and waited breathlessly for her decision. If she said no he would be finished.

Then she gave him a faint smile.

‘Certainly.’

Yet he wondered in confusion if it was actually joy he felt. He hadn’t felt this way for so long that he couldn’t identify the feeling. Only a certainty that everything was obvious, meant to be; there was nothing to be afraid of any more.

A complete, all-encompassing calm.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

How could he hide his gratitude? Relieved, he hurried to open his wallet.

‘I’ll have the same.’

He quickly put a hundred-krona bill on the bar and the barman gave him a glass. When he turned back to her she smiled at him.

‘I’m the one who should be saying thanks,’ she said.

He raised his glass to her and felt his smile spread through his whole body.

‘No, that’s not true, I should say it. Cheers, then.’

‘Cheers.’

‘And welcome.’

Their glasses met. The contact passed like a shock through his body. He looked at her over the rim of the glass, his eyes refusing to let go. He had to memorise every contour, every feature. Until the next time he saw her.

She drank again, two deep swallows. When she finished he would offer her another.

Again and again.

‘My name is Jonas.’

She smiled, amused.

‘There you see.’

Suddenly he was unsure. How could he get her to talk? Somehow he had to win her trust. Maybe she thought he had been too forward in buying her a cider.

‘I don’t usually buy cider for strange women, if that’s what you think. But I wanted to buy one for you.’

She gave him a quick look and then stared down into her almost empty glass.

‘Is that so? Why me in particular?’

He couldn’t reply. How could she ever understand?

‘What’s your name?’

The question was so inadequate. He wanted to know everything. Everything she had ever thought, everything she had ever felt. An inner jubilation at even being able to think these things.

She paused before she answered, and he understood
her. He couldn’t expect her to trust him. Not yet. But soon she would realise what he had understood as soon as he caught sight of her.

And as if she too was suddenly aware of the import of their meeting, she smiled at him again. A shy smile, as if she were telling him something in confidence.

‘My name is Linda.’

H
er first instinct had been to rush in and confront him with everything she knew. Shove the truth down his throat and tell him to go to hell. But in the next instant she realised that that was precisely what he wanted.

Go to hell.

Suddenly she grasped what he was trying to do. Standing in the park with their defiled home before her, it struck her like lightning out of a clear blue sky. She figured out his plan. All at once it was ridiculously obvious.

The cowardly swine was once again trying to push the responsibility onto her.

Once again he thought he could hide behind her capacity for action.

Instead of accepting the consequences for what he had done and for once making his own decision, he thought he could force her to leave
him
. Get rid of the guilt so that for all his days he would be able to hide behind the fact that it was her decision; she was the one who wanted a divorce, she was the one who was leaving.

She wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. Not at all.

She felt a stubborn contempt.

He couldn’t even manage his own infidelity without her.

Her decisiveness filled her with a liberating calm. She was in control again. Finally she knew what she should do.

She needed confirmation of just one thing to be able to hold out.

Just one thing.

She hadn’t said a word before she left. Henrik and Axel were playing a computer game and had closed the door to the office; he’d notice she was gone soon enough. She was more than pleased not to see him. She still wasn’t sure that she could manage to conceal her hatred, but she had the whole night to summon her strength. Tomorrow he would have his faithful wife back; but first she had to get someone to confirm that she was good enough.

She looked out over Järntorget. She had stopped briefly on the way into Gamla Stan to have a well-deserved pick-me-up. It was a long time since she’d been out on the town at all, and she couldn’t remember ever going out alone before. Always having to rush home with a guilty conscience. At work because she wasn’t at home, and at home because she couldn’t manage to do her job properly.

She took the last gulp from her glass and turned around. This was definitely the wrong place for her plans. Couples eating dinner and groups that didn’t want to include anyone else. No, one more cider and then she’d get going.

She went up to the bar.

She heard the door open behind her. The barman stood with his back turned, filling bowls with peanuts. She turned her head and glanced at the man who had just come in. Now he was standing right in front of her at the short end of the bar.