She briefly met Henrik’s black look before she glanced away.
‘I also think you should know that the parents’ group has collected money for flowers and that they will be asking Linda to continue working here if she pulls through.’
She would never be able to show herself in public again.
‘I have to confess that I don’t really know how we should resolve the rest. For Axel’s sake, of course, it’s obvious that he should keep his place here, but I have to say it feels extremely difficult to keep you as clients. I’ll leave the decision up to you.’
Help me. Good God, help me.
‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then it would be good if you got hold of Åsa Sandström, because she wants to talk with you. She wants an explanation for why you involved her in all this. Because now everyone understands who sent all those emails too, which you claimed were from Linda. Surely you must see that Åsa feels used and rightly so. She’s upset about this, to say the least.’
She couldn’t breathe.
This was intolerable.
‘As you can hear, I’m furious about what you’ve done, and I’d be lying if I said anything else. I can understand that it must have felt, well, I don’t know, bloody awful, when you realised that Henrik and Linda were having an affair, but that does not excuse what you’ve done. Here we work day after day to teach the children about right and wrong, and that one must always take responsibility for one’s actions. I thought I knew you, but obviously I don’t.’
Shame was a snare, growing tighter with each syllable. She was annihilated, deprived of all honour. She had to get away. Away from Nacka. Away from Sweden. Away from any chance of meeting anyone who might recognise her and know what she had done.
‘Is she going to be all right?’
‘They don’t know yet.’
She put down the receiver, forgetting to hang up. Henrik with his arms crossed. Hateful, hostile, and forever with right on his side.
Down the stairs.
Shoes. She remembered that you had to have shoes on when you went outside.
Not Värmdövägen. She had to stay on the side streets.
The houses surrounding her, the lamps lit in their windows, families just coming home, reunited after another work day. All of it just a decoration to punish her. Not for sale. Inaccessible. Henceforth you shall only look, never take part. You are banished from our community. Outlawed for all time, but remembered.
As if through a dirty filter she saw a car approaching, and she reached back to pull up her hood. Not be seen. The hood wasn’t where it was supposed to be. She looked down and noticed that her jacket too was missing. The car passed by. She had to go further, had to get away.
At first she didn’t notice the car creeping along next to her. Only noticed something white out of the corner of her eye. Then it drove past her and stopped. Someone got out.
‘Hi.’
A surprised voice that sounded glad.
Nobody could be glad to see her.
She stopped. Something familiar about the figure whose face was dimly lit by a street light.
‘Imagine meeting you here, do you live around here?’
Colourful pictures. The voice associated with abstract patterns.
‘How are you doing, anyway? Can I drive you somewhere?’
Everything empty. And then this person, sounding so worried for her sake, who still lowered himself to talk to her. Then she saw Daniel’s parents walking towards her farther down the street. Each carrying a briefcase. On their way home from the bus. Soon they would see her. Flowers for Linda. They knew what she had done and had contributed money for flowers for Linda today. No side street to escape into.
She went over to the passenger side and climbed in.
Just take me away from here.
Let me get out of meeting Daniel’s parents.
What could possibly be worse?
If only she hadn’t.
So many ‘if only she hadn’t’s. So many that it was no longer possible to see when the first one occurred.
They sat in complete silence. He didn’t ask where she wanted to go and she didn’t wonder where he was headed. Just leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. A silent zone where she was not subject to accusations.
She didn’t open her eyes until the car stopped and the engine was turned off. A cul-de-sac. Some parked cars. Blocks of flats. She remembered the last time she was here.
With an effort of will she turned her head and looked at him. Took in his warm smile and lowered her eyes, let her gaze settle on his hands resting on the steering wheel. She remembered their clumsiness, his fumbling fingers running over her body; she was amazed that he had even dared.
Again an ‘if only she hadn’t’.
‘Thanks for the lift.’
She made a move to open the door. The exhaustion felt like an ache in her joints, a physical plea not to have to move.
‘Wouldn’t you like to come in for a while?’
She let her hand rest on the door handle as she searched for an answer. There was anticipation in his voice, and that was more than she could bear. She opened the car door and the cold that struck her reminded her that she had no jacket. Or money.
She had nothing.
‘I have some pear cider at my place. Won’t you come in and have a glass? To be honest, you look like you could use it. Then I can drive you wherever you like later.’
Wherever you like. Where was that? Was there such a place?
If only she hadn’t.
The whole past chain of events was linked by the ‘if only she hadn’t’s.
But the first link in the chain was Henrik’s. The betrayal. His cowardice. The rage he had directed at her. His lack of consideration.
Kerstin’s judgement echoed in her mind. One must always take responsibility for one’s actions. What did Kerstin know about how Henrik had acted towards her? What he had done to provoke her crime. The impotence she felt. But she would never get the chance to defend herself. Not before any of those who thought they had the right to judge her. The verdict had been handed down and the sentence passed.
Pariah.
But what about Henrik? Didn’t any part of the blame fall on him? Because he was the one who had prompted the whole chain of ‘what if she hadn’t’s.
He got out of the car and she saw through the windscreen that he was walking towards her open door. When he got there he held out his hand to her.
‘Come on now. Just a glass of pear cider. That’s all.’
So tired, through and through. All the way into her marrow. If only she could just follow along, not have to make any decisions.
‘Just a glass of pear cider?’
He smiled and nodded.
‘Just a glass of pear cider.’
She refused his outstretched hand and got out of the car, moving past him. He let his arm hover in the air a bit too long before he slowly let it drop, closed her door and fetched a plastic bag from the boot.
‘Come on.’
He started towards the door of his building. Maybe she was angry when she refused his hand; she didn’t mean to seem unpleasant, she just didn’t want to give him any ideas, not a single hope of anything more than what they had agreed. A glass of pear cider. Nothing more. That’s what he had said and she had accepted.
He turned on the light in the stairwell and showed her in with a gentlemanly gesture, inviting her to go first. He followed a few steps behind. She was filled by a slight uneasiness at his presence, well aware that he had her rear end in his view. She felt exposed and open to his eyes, which could look at whatever they liked. She leaned her back against the wall as he unlocked the door. Four locks.