The Circle (13 page)

Minoo hesitates. She sort of understands what Rebecka’s getting at. Tonight has been strange to say the least. But Minoo has no mysterious new ability to make things
move
or people tell the truth. She doesn’t feel especially transformed.

‘I’m just babbling,’ says Rebecka, with a dismissive wave of her hand.

They start walking again.

‘I wonder what sort of power Elias had,’ Minoo says, when the silence starts to feel uncomfortable again.

‘Maybe he didn’t have one. Neither you, Linnéa nor Ida had noticed anything unusual, apart from your dreams.’

‘So you didn’t think there was anything special about Ida tonight?’ Minoo asks.

As she hears her words, they sound petulant in a way she hadn’t intended. But Rebecka just giggles.

‘To be honest, I’m a bit jealous of you,’ says Minoo. ‘I’ve always wanted to have a superpower.’

‘Well, maybe yours is your brain,’ says Rebecka. ‘You’re so incredibly clever. Perhaps that’s why we need you.’

‘So you can make things fly through the air, and I can … think?’

Rebecka laughs. It’s not a nasty laugh. Minoo has apparently been funny again without realising it. That’s promising: she never makes people laugh when she tries to.

‘I just mean that there have to be answers to our questions. And if anyone can find them, it’s you. We can’t wait for Nicolaus to remember things. We have to look for ourselves,’ Rebecka says. ‘Besides, maybe you and Linnéa have powers you don’t know about yet. Mine just came out of nowhere.’

What Rebecka says is logical. Minoo may as well be
patient
. And if, in her familiar role as
studius maximus
, she can make a contribution, well …

Then it hits her. It might not be the end of the world, but pretty close to it. Minoo stops mid-step.

‘What is it?’ asks Rebecka.

‘We’ve got a chemistry test tomorrow,’ says Minoo, ‘and I haven’t finished revising for it.’

Linnéa lives in an eight-storey block near Storvall Park. It’s one of the many buildings in town in which half of the flats are empty and boarded up.

The front entrance stinks of urine. Vanessa wrinkles her nose and Linnéa smiles wryly. ‘Welcome to the Engelsfors Hilton,’ she says.

She opens the lift door and they step inside. It’s easily big enough for ten people and rattles loudly as it trundles slowly upwards. Vanessa catches sight of her face in the mirror. She looks like a horror-movie victim who’s been chased through a forest: leaves caught in her tousled hair and makeup streaked down her face.

Suddenly she realises she has to speak to Wille, but it feels wrong to borrow Linnéa’s mobile to call him. She is starting to regret that she accepted Linnéa’s offer to swing by her house to borrow some clothes. But she can’t possibly go home wrapped in a blanket.

Linnéa opens the lift door and they step out. Vanessa instantly notices the name on the letterbox: ‘L. Wallin’. ‘You’ve got your own apartment?’ she asks, as she follows her.

‘Yeah,’ Linnéa answers, unlocking the door, as if it were
the
most natural thing in the world. She kicks off her shoes in the hall, continues into the living room and switches on a few little lamps on the floor. They’ve all got red and pink shades and bathe the room in a soft red glow.

It’s a shabby two-room apartment with linoleum floors and white wallpaper with little blue flowers. You can hardly see the walls for all the paintings, posters and pages ripped from magazines. In the living room a big sofa is draped in a large piece of red fake velvet. Placed in front of it, a painted black wooden crate serves as a coffee-table. A big ceramic panther perches next to the sofa. Tiny cracks form a white net covering the black body.

‘Cool, huh?’ Linnéa says. ‘Can you believe someone threw it out?’

‘Threw it out?’

‘I get almost all my stuff off the street.’

Vanessa takes a closer look at the pictures on the walls. There’s a series of creepy photographs of animals in clown outfits, and an oil painting that at first glance seems to depict an idyllic landscape until you notice the silhouette of a woman in a white dress hanging by her neck from a tree; standing nearby, two smiling figures, with pupil-less eyes, hold hands. Vanessa likes the pictures, but draws a blank on the band posters. Most are Asian, with names that she’s never heard of before.

Linnéa’s mobile rings. She pulls it out of her pocket, looks at the screen and grimaces before she sets it aside.

Vanessa’s gaze falls on a big black wooden cross on the wall. It’s covered with small bits of silvery metal.

‘Nice,’ she says, mostly just to make conversation.

Linnéa comes and stands next to her and runs a finger over the cross. Her nails are painted with bright pink polish that is starting to wear away. ‘Elias gave it to me. It’s from Mexico. See these little symbols? They’re all the things that this cross is supposed to protect against. Here’s a broken leg, for example. Crying eyes … and a sick horse.’

Vanessa laughs nervously and pretends to look, but the only thing she’s aware of is how close to her Linnéa is standing, so close that Vanessa can feel the warmth of her body through the blanket. Linnéa’s mobile rings again. ‘What the fuck,’ she hisses. She goes back to it and rejects the call.

‘Who keeps calling?’ Vanessa asks.

‘Just a guy who refuses to understand when to stop.’

Vanessa sees a flash of something in Linnéa’s eyes. Something that looks like … pity? She feels queasy and has to look away. She’s suddenly realised who’s calling, but won’t humiliate herself by asking. ‘Oh, yeah?’ is all she says.

‘Go and see what you can find in my wardrobe,’ says Linnéa, pointing towards the bedroom door.

The blinds are down and Vanessa fumbles along the wall till she finds the light switch. The bed is wide and unmade. But what catches Vanessa’s eye is the sewing-machine on the floor next to a workbench stacked with different fabrics and jars of thread and buttons.

‘You sew?’ she asks Linnéa, who’s just coming into the room.

Linnéa gives a quick nod, and Vanessa sees it was a stupid question. What else would she do with a sewing-machine? What is it about Linnéa that makes her feel everything she says comes out wrong?

‘There’s a mirror inside the wardrobe door,’ says Linnéa, and hands her a packet of wipes.

Vanessa opens the wardrobe. Everything in there looks like something from a Japanese horror version of
Alice in Wonderland
. No matter what she puts on she’ll look as if she’s on her way to a costume ball dressed as Linnéa.

‘Take whatever you want,’ Linnéa says, and walks out.

The phone rings four times in the living room. Linnéa doesn’t answer it.

The clothes hangers clatter as Vanessa flips through the outfits. Eventually she picks the most neutral one she can find: a black skirt, a white top and a knitted black sweater made of a fluffy yarn. She gets dressed, wipes off her makeup and removes the bits of forest from her hair. She looks almost half decent now .

‘I’ll give you back your clothes at school tomorrow. Today, I mean,’ Vanessa says, as she goes back into the living room, holding her blanket.

Linnéa is lying crashed out on the sofa, her feet draped on one of the armrests.

‘I’m going to stay at home today. But it’s cool, we can do it another time,’ she says drowsily.

Another time, Vanessa thinks. Yup. From now on we’ll be forced to spend time with each other.

She and Linnéa, Minoo and Anna-Karin, Rebecka and Ida. If the salvation of the world depends on their ability to work together, well, unfortunately things look pretty fucked. Sorry, billions of people living on earth, Ida Holmström is all that stands between you and destruction.

‘Christ, I hate her,’ Linnéa mumbles.

‘Who?’

‘Ida. If evil is coming after us, I hope it takes her first,’ says Linnéa. A little smile plays at the corners of her mouth. Vanessa catches herself grinning back. They look at each other for a moment.

‘It’s Wille who keeps calling you, isn’t it?’ Vanessa asks.

‘Yeah.’

‘Have you … have you started seeing each other again?’

Seconds pass. Linnéa sits up slowly.

‘No.’

‘So what does he want?’

Linnéa drops her gaze.

‘Just tell me, okay?’ Vanessa asks, making her voice as hard and fierce as she can to hide her fear. Is Wille angry with her for running off? Is that why he’s calling Linnéa now? Is that what he usually does when they’ve had a tiff? If he’s still in love with Linnéa, I’ll die, she thinks.

‘He’s angry with me,’ Linnéa says.

Vanessa stares at her. ‘What?’

‘It’s hard to explain. We fought all the time when we were together. Sometimes he gets it into his head that we’ve still got things to sort out. Like, why I said whatever it was that time a hundred years ago. Silly stuff.’

It’s unlike Wille to get so caught up in the past. He doesn’t even spend much time thinking about the present.

‘We fought all the time. It can be addictive. You want to win once and for all.’

Vanessa doesn’t know what to say. If Evelina or Michelle tries to lie to her she picks up on it instantly. But Linnéa makes her feel unsure of herself. And she won’t find out the truth from Wille. She can’t confront him with this information because no one can know that she and Linnéa are talking to each other.

If only she could think clearly. She’s been awake for so long that her drunkenness has given way to a hangover.

They head for the front door. Vanessa borrows an old pair of shoes, and ties them –it seems to take ages, with Linnéa’s eyes burning into the back of her neck.

The latch on the front door sticks. Vanessa tugs at the doorknob, twisting it in different directions. Linnéa opens the door for her, and Vanessa practically flies down the stairs.

12

REBECKA IS STILL
wide awake when she hears the key in the front door, then her mother hanging up her jacket and taking off her shoes. The door to her brothers’ room opens, then to her sisters’.

Rebecka has already looked in on them. It was only once she and Minoo had parted company that she realised the children had been at home on their own all night. What if there had been a fire? Or one of them had woken up, not found either Rebecka or their mother, gone out on to the balcony, fallen off—

She ran home as fast as her tired legs could carry her. Everything was quiet and calm, just as she’d left it.

Her mother’s footsteps approach in the hall and Rebecka forces herself to breathe normally. Her door doesn’t open. Instead she hears her mother go into the kitchen.

Rebecka stays in bed, feeling an odd mixture of relief and melancholy. It’s obvious that her mother doesn’t see her as a child any more. Even when Rebecka was five or six, she had made sure that Anton and Oskar stayed out of trouble and behaved themselves, then later with Alma and Moa. She was constantly told what a wonderful babysitter she was.

She sits up in bed and thinks of her new family, the one she’d met tonight. Now she’s expected to play the same role there: the one who leads, mediates and keeps the group together. Will she be able to pull it off? Will she have the energy?

She goes into the kitchen where her mother is preparing breakfast. ‘Up already, Beckis?’ she asks, and gives Rebecka a hug.

Rebecka cheers up a little. It’s not often she and her mother got to spend time alone together.

As they set the table together, her mother tells her about an eventful night in A&E. A fight had broken out at Götvändaren, the only hotel in town, which had left a man needing seven stitches. Another man had beaten his wife with a hot frying-pan because she had burned the pork chops. An older woman working the nightshift at the saw mill had accidentally cut off her left hand. And a little child had been so terrified of the dark he had become almost psychotic. He was utterly convinced there were monsters wandering along the street below his window.

‘You could sure tell there was a full moon last night,’ her mother says and sets out the breakfast bowls.

Her mother has a theory that people behave differently during a full moon. If it affects the tides then it has to affect people, too, since they consist primarily of water. In her mother’s world, anything from an unusual number of births to outbreaks of violent crime or insomnia can be attributed to a full moon.

‘Maybe things are especially crazy when the moon is red,’ Rebecka suggests.

Her mother looks at her questioningly. ‘What do you mean?’

Rebecka becomes uncertain. ‘It was red. Blood red.’

‘Strange you should say that,’ her mother says. ‘A few of the patients were talking about how red the moon was. But when we nurses looked outside it seemed completely normal.’

Her mother pours herself some more coffee.

Rebecka looks out of the window to where a transparent moon lingers in the light morning sky. It’s still red. Her mother follows her gaze without reacting. Obviously she sees nothing strange about it.

‘I must have dreamed it,’ Rebecka says quietly. She thinks for a moment. ‘Mum, have you ever heard anything strange about Kärrgruvan?’