Exposed (46 page)

Patricia let go of the mattress, turned and walked up to Annika. Her dark eyes were burning like fire.

‘Fuck you!’ she snarled. ‘Fuck anyone who shafts their friends!’

‘But it didn’t have anything to do with you,’ Annika tried to explain, ‘or with the club—’

‘And you told the police, you fucking bitch! How the fuck could you have known that the accounts would be there, then? You shafted me, your friend, for a fucking job!’ Patricia had lost control completely and was screaming at Annika now.

‘What a revolting piece of fucking shit you are! Fuck you!’

Annika backed away, hearing her own words echo in her head. Bloody hell, Patricia’s right. What have I done, what have I done?

The young woman ran back to her mattress, grabbed it and left the flat without bothering to close the door.

Annika rushed over to the window and saw Patricia run off, dragging her mattress behind her over the gravel. Slowly she walked through to the little maid’s
room. A glass lay on its side on the floor, and Josefin’s pink dress was still hanging on the wall.

Annika felt tears welling up.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t mean this to happen.’

She was numb all the way to Flen. She watched the farmland fly past, unable to feel anything, unable to eat anything. The sound of the rails beneath the train turned into chants in her head: Studio Six, her fault, Patri-cia, her fault, be-trayal, her fault, her fault, her fault …

She put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes.

The bus was already at the bus-stop outside the station, which was something, she supposed. It set off for Hälleforsnäs a few minutes later, passing through Mellösa and stopping at a DIY store in Flenmo.

This could be the last time I’m coming home when I come back here, she thought.

She got out at the supermarket as usual, and watched the bus as it disappeared down the road. She didn’t feel like going home, couldn’t face her soon-to-be-abandoned flat yet. After some hesitation she decided to go to her mother’s.

It would be an exaggeration to say that her mother was pleased to see her.

‘Come in,’ she said. ‘I’ve just made coffee.’

Annika sat down at the kitchen table, still feeling numb and ashamed.

‘I’ve found a house,’ her mother said, putting out another cup.

Annika pretended not to hear, and looked out at the old ironworks through the window.

‘Carport and pool,’ her mother went on, louder this time. ‘White bricks. It’s big – seven rooms. There’s room for you and Sven as well.’

‘I don’t want to live in Eskilstuna,’ Annika said without looking away from the ironworks.

‘It’s in Svista, outside the town. Hugelstaborg. It’s a nice area. Good people.’

Annika blinked and looked away from the window, then closed her eyes in irritation.

‘What do you want seven rooms for?’

Her mother stopped fussing about, evidently hurt.

‘I only want room for you, for you and Sven and Birgitta. And the grandchildren, of course.’

Annika stood up, and her mother blinked innocently.

‘You’re probably going to have to rely on Birgitta, then,’ Annika said. ‘I’m not going to be having any kids for a long time yet.’

She went over to the sink, took a glass out of the cupboard above and filled it from the tap. Her mother was watching her, gently reproachful.

‘And is Sven allowed to have an opinion about this, then?’

Annika spun round. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Her mother tilted her chin. ‘Some people think you bully him. Just moving to Stockholm like that, without asking him.’

Annika’s face was white with rage. ‘What would you know about that?’ she said.

Her mother fumbled for a packet of cigarettes, clicking her lighter several times before it worked. She took a deep drag and coughed hard.

‘You know nothing about me and Sven,’ Annika said once the woman had finished coughing. ‘Do you mean to say I should have turned down this chance for his sake, is that it? Do my career and income have to depend on his bloody goodwill? Is that really what you think? Well?’

Her mother had tears in her eyes when she finally got her breath back.

‘Goodness, I really must stop smoking these horrid things.’

She tried to smile, but Annika didn’t smile back.

‘Of course I think you should make an effort with your job. You’re so talented. But it’s hard up there, everybody knows that. No one’s blaming you for failing.’

Annika turned and filled her glass again. Her mother came over and stroked her arm rather clumsily.

‘Annika,’ she said, ‘don’t be so angry with me.’

‘I’m not angry with you,’ Annika said in a subdued voice, without turning round.

Her mother hesitated. ‘It seems like it, sometimes,’ she said.

Annika turned round and looked at her mother with tired eyes.

‘I just don’t understand why you insist on thinking you should move to some flashy house in Eskilstuna. You don’t have the money! Where would you work? Or are you thinking of commuting to the supermarket here?’

Now it was her mother’s turn to look away.

‘There are lots of jobs in Eskilstuna,’ she said, affronted. ‘Good, honest cashiers don’t grow on trees, you know.’

‘So why don’t you start with that, then? Start by looking for a job! It doesn’t make sense to start with the luxury villa, surely you can see that?’

The woman took several deep drags on her cigarette.

‘You don’t respect me,’ she said.

‘Of course I do!’ Annika said, holding her arms out. ‘Good grief, you’re my mother! I just think you should keep your feet on the ground. If you want to live in a detached house, why not buy one here in Hälleforsnäs! They hardly cost anything! I saw another For Sale sign
in Flen today – have you called to see how much they want for that one?’

‘Finns,’ her mother said contemptuously.

‘Now you’re just being stupid,’ Annika said.

‘What about you, then?’ her mother said. ‘You don’t want to live here either. You only want to live in Stockholm.’

Annika held her arms out again.

‘That’s not because there’s anything wrong with Hälleforsnäs! I love this place. But the job I want just isn’t here.’

Her mother put her cigarette out on the sink. Her cheeks were glowing, and she had red circles round her eyes. Her voice was shaking.

‘I don’t want to live in an old hovel in this shithole, surely you can understand that! I’d rather stay here, in this flat.’

‘Okay, why don’t you?’ Annika said, picking up her bag and walking out.

She picked up her bicycle and went off to see Sven.

There was no point in putting it off any longer. He lived in the old stable that had belonged to the ironworks. It had once been a smart, impressive building, but now it just sat, miserable and rundown, at the bottom of Tattarbacken.

He was home, sitting and drinking a few beers as he watched the football on television.

‘Darling,’ he said, getting up to give her a hug. ‘You’ve no idea how glad I am that you’re home.’

She tried to wriggle discreetly out of his arms, her heart thudding, her legs trembling.

‘I’m here to pack, Sven,’ she said, her voice shaking.

He smiled. ‘Yes, I want us to move in together as well.’

She gulped and gasped for air, on the brink of bursting into tears.

‘Sven,’ she said, ‘I’ve got a job in Stockholm. At the
Evening Post
. They want me back. I start in November.’

She was clutching the strap of her bag nervously. She still had her outdoor shoes on.

Sven shook his head. ‘But that’s never going to work,’ he said. ‘You can’t commute every day; surely even you can see that?’

She closed her eyes as her tears brimmed over.

‘I’m going to move,’ she said. ‘For good. I’ve given up the flat and my job at the
Courier.’

As she said this she began to back instinctively towards the door.

‘What the fuck are you saying?’

Sven came towards her.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she sobbed. ‘I never wanted to hurt you. I really did love you.’

‘You’re leaving me?’ he said breathlessly, grabbing her by the arms.

She leaned her head back and shut her eyes, tears running down her face and neck.

‘This is how it has to be,’ she said breathlessly. ‘You deserve someone who loves you more. I can’t do it any more.’

He started to shake her, slowly at first, then more violently.

‘What the fuck do you mean?’ he shouted. ‘Are you trying to say you’re dumping me?
Me?’

Annika wept, her head hit the door behind her as she tried to hold him away from her.

‘Sven,’ she said, ‘Sven, listen to me—’

‘Why the fuck should I listen to you?’ he screamed. ‘You’ve been lying to me all fucking summer! You said you wanted to give living in Stockholm a try, but you never had any intention of coming home, did you? Christ, you really pulled a fast one on me!’

Annika stopped crying at once and looked him right in the eye.

‘You’re absolutely right,’ she said. ‘All I want is to be free of you.’

He let go of her, staring at her incredulously.

She turned and kicked the door open, then just ran.

The lake sparkled like an icy sapphire in the morning sun. Annika was slowly walking down to the water with Whiskas at her heels. The cat leaped and danced round her feet, completely giddy with joy. She laughed and picked him up. The animal rubbed against her chin, licking her neck and purring like a little machine.

‘You’re the soppiest cat in the world, do you know that?’ Annika said, scratching him behind the ears.

She put him down on the jetty and looked out across the lake. The wind, light and mild, rippled the glittering surface. Annika squinted, looking at the rocks emerge from the water on the far shore and disappear under their blanket of pine trees. In the far distance, where the lake stopped and the denser forest began, was where Old Gustav lived. She really ought to look in on him one day; it was ages since she last saw him.

The future lay ahead of her like an unpainted water-colour. She could choose what colours and patterns to paint, how strong they should be, how deep.

Warm and satisfying, she thought. Light and easy.

The cat curled up in her lap and fell asleep. She shut her eyes, her fingers stroking the cat’s soft fur. She was filled with an intense feeling of happiness. This is what life should be like, she thought.

Her grandmother called something from the cottage and Annika straightened her back and listened. Whiskas pricked his ears and jumped down from the jetty. The old woman was forming her hands into a megaphone.

‘Breakfast!’

Annika jogged back up to the cottage. The cat thought they were having a race and rushed off like an idiot. When she got to the steps he jumped out of his hiding place and attacked her feet. Annika picked up the wriggling animal, burrowed her nose into his fur and blew on his stomach.

‘Now you’re just being silly, aren’t you!’ she said.

Her grandmother had laid out sour milk, wild raspberries, rye bread and cheese. The smell of coffee hung in the air. Annika realized how hungry she was.

‘No, down you go,’ she said to the cat, who was trying to jump onto her lap.

‘He’s going to miss you,’ her grandmother said.

Annika sighed. ‘I’ll come and visit often,’ she said.

Her grandmother poured the coffee into delicate cups.

‘I want you to know that I think you’re doing the right thing,’ she said. ‘You need to focus on your work. Taking responsibility by making your own living gives you self-belief and satisfaction, I’ve always thought that. You shouldn’t be with a man who holds you back.’

They ate in silence, the sun shining onto the kitchen table, making the wax-cloth soft and warm.

‘Are there many mushrooms?’

Her grandmother laughed. ‘I wondered how long it would be before you asked. There are masses of them this year.’

Annika jumped up.

‘I’ll go and pick some for lunch.’

She dug out two plastic bags from the bottom drawer
and hurried into the forest, with Whiskas bounding after her.

Within the gloom of the forest she had to blink several times before she could make out the pattern of the moss. She could hardly believe her eyes. The ground was completely covered with brown mushrooms, growing in clumps of hundreds, maybe thousands at a time.

She filled her two bags, taking less than an hour. Whiskas caught two wood mice while she was busy.

‘Who’s going to clean all of those?’ her grandmother said, looking horrified at the thought.

Annika laughed and tipped the first bag onto the table.

‘It’s not so bad,’ she said, but as usual it took longer to clean the mushrooms than it did to pick them.

They ate fried bread and two mountains of mushrooms for lunch.

‘I’m out of bread and butter now,’ her grandmother said once the washing-up was done.

‘I’ll cycle in and get some,’ Annika said.

The old woman smiled. ‘That’s kind of you.’

Annika brushed her hair and fetched her bag.

‘Right, now you stay with Grandma,’ she said to the cat.