I could see that it was old; the white fabric had acquired a yellowish tinge. I put it back in the wardrobe. Next to it, on another hanger, was a black leather bag. I took it out and opened it. It contained a number of Nazi war decorations, including a gold-coloured clasp with an inscription on the back which I interpreted as ‘close combat clasp’. There was also an Iron Cross, although I couldn’t tell which grade, and a knife in a case that had belonged to a member of the Waffen-SS. At the bottom of the bag was a photograph of an unshaven man in a German uniform. He was smoking a cigarette and smiling into the camera. On the back of the photograph was the name Karl Madsen, and in different handwriting someone had added: ‘Eastern Front 1942’.
I put the bag back in the wardrobe and left the room. There still wasn’t a sound from Lisa. It was quarter to three in the morning. I lay down on the sofa without getting undressed and fell asleep. In my dream Louise was walking along a street I didn’t recognise. I didn’t recognise her either; she looked completely different, and yet I still knew it was her. When I tried to call out to her, she turned and smiled. Her mouth was like a black hole; she had no teeth.
When I woke, it was ten past four. The whole situation, the fact that I was in Lisa’s apartment, felt like a dream. I went over to the window and looked down on the open space illuminated by a swinging street lamp. My car was in the shadows.
I went into Lisa’s study again. Once more I opened the wardrobe and took out the embroidered cloth with the Swedish flag and the swastika. Why was it hanging there among her clothes? What did the contents of the black leather bag mean?
I couldn’t find any answers.
I was on my way back to the sofa, but I couldn’t resist listening outside Lisa’s bedroom door again. Everything was still silent. Gently I pushed down the handle and opened the door a fraction. The blind was pulled only halfway down, and the street lamp shone onto the bed where she was lying.
I don’t know how long I stood there in the doorway, gazing at her. In the pale glow she looked like the women I have been with during my life. There weren’t many, apart from Harriet, but they were all lying in that bed looking just like Lisa Modin.
Eventually I lay back down on the sofa and dozed off, even though I really didn’t want to. When she woke up I wanted to be sitting here so that I could tell her I hadn’t slept a wink. I hoped that would arouse her sympathy.
I came back to life every fifteen minutes or so, in a state somewhere between sleep and drowsiness. When I heard the alarm clock in her bedroom, immediately followed by the sound of the radio, I sat up, combed my hair and waited. She opened the door softly, so as not to wake me. It was six o’clock. She was wearing her dressing gown. She nodded when she saw me sitting there; I nodded back as she disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the sound of running water. When she came out she had a towel wrapped around her hair. She went back into the bedroom; I stayed where I was. It was still dark outside.
She was dressed when she reappeared.
‘I thought you’d be asleep since you were so tired,’ she said. ‘But you’re up and dressed already.’
‘I haven’t slept,’ I said. ‘I didn’t even get undressed.’
‘Have you been sitting on the sofa all night?’
‘I lay down from time to time.’
She shook her head and looked worried.
‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘At least I’ve had peace and quiet here. Nobody knows where I am.’
‘Not getting any sleep isn’t going to help.’
‘Sleeping isn’t going to help either.’
She went into the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast. I waited on the sofa until she said the coffee was ready. I was hungry but only had a cup of coffee. She tried to persuade me to have a sandwich, but I refused.
She got up, taking her coffee with her.
‘I’ve got a couple of things to do,’ she said. ‘I’ll be leaving in half an hour.’
When she had gone into her study I quickly made a sandwich while trying to work out how I could stay in the apartment. I didn’t want to go back to the island.
Lisa came out of her study. She topped up her cup, went over to the window and looked out towards the inlet; the sky was growing lighter now.
‘Why did you come here?’ she asked. Her voice was different, deeper. She was still gazing out of the window.
‘I tried to explain last night; perhaps I didn’t do a very good job.’
‘You’ve been snooping,’ she said, turning to face me.
I felt my pulse rate increase, as if I had avoided a car accident by the narrowest of margins.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
She put down her coffee cup on the draining board; I could see her hand trembling.
‘You’ve been in my study. You’ve been going through my papers, and you’ve opened my wardrobe. I can’t say exactly what you’ve done or why, but I can tell when something has changed.’
‘I’m not in the habit of going through other people’s things,’ I said huffily. ‘Whatever you might think, you’re wrong.’
Lisa looked tired. She shook her head slowly.
‘I’d like you to leave now. I thought you really needed help and a place to sleep, but now I don’t know who you are or why you’ve come here.’
‘I can assure you I haven’t been in your study.’
She shook her head again. I didn’t know how she had discovered what I had been up to during the night, but I knew I wasn’t going to be able to convince her that she was mistaken.
‘In that case I’ll go,’ I said, getting to my feet.
She followed me into the hallway and watched as I put on my jacket and my wellington boots. I opened the door, then asked her, ‘Who’s the man in this picture?’
‘Robert Capa. He’s a photographer; I admire him more than any other journalist or photographer. He died when he was reporting from a war zone in Asia; he stepped on a landmine.’
I made my mind up there and then, with one foot outside her door.
‘One day you must tell me why there’s an embroidered cloth in your wardrobe with the Swedish flag and a swastika on it. Who made it? You must tell me all about it, but not right now — you’re obviously in a hurry.’
I didn’t wait for her response because I didn’t want to hear it. I hurried down the stairs, and as I reached the wheeled walker outside the old man’s apartment, I heard Lisa’s door slam.
I got in the car, lowered the back of my seat and fell asleep almost immediately.
When I woke up two hours later I was frozen through and felt sick. I took my pulse. It was much too rapid: ninety-seven. I got out of the car and walked around for a couple of minutes to shake some life into my body.
A little while later I parked by the bank and waited in the car until the liquor store opened. I bought half-bottles of vodka so that I could slip them into my jacket pocket, and ten cans of beer to ease the hangover that was bound to follow.
I went to a small cafe I had never been to before and had a couple of sandwiches. Since I was alone I added a good slug of vodka to my coffee cup. I saw no reason to wait until I got home. There were no police checks on the short stretch of road between here and the harbour. I wasn’t used to drinking spirits, so I felt the effects immediately. A warming sense of calm flooded my body.
I left the cafe, got into my car and had another swig of vodka before I set off. I was drunk, but I was still capable of keeping the car on the road and avoiding a collision with the oncoming traffic. I felt extremely cheerful. I was convinced that my parting comment to Lisa had hit home.