I cannot deal with her any more. She's completely impossible.'
The second man was nodding gravely.
'Do you have any idea if she has actually become psychotic again?'
I can't be sure. Of course, she has these outbursts, making accusations against me and although I know she mustn't upset herself, it's so difficult…'
Her mother covered her eyes with her hand. Sibylla heard the door to her father's study opening and his indoor shoes pad across the tiled floor. Then she could see him over the handrail. He went up to the men and shook their hands.
'Henry Forsenström.'
'Hakan Holmgren. We've come to collect Sibylla.'
He nodded and sighed. 'Best so, I think.' Sibylla got up.
'I'm packed and ready to go.'
Everybody turned to watch her. Her mother took a step closer to her husband, who put a protective arm round her. They seemed worried that their daughter would throw some kind of fit. When she reached the bottom of the stairs the small gathering scattered to let her pass. Once outside, she turned. The male nurses hadn't moved. She addressed them politely.
'I'm sorry, are you waiting for something?'
Hakan Holmgren took a few steps towards her.
'No, we're OK. Let's go. Sure you've packed everything you need?'
Sibylla just turned and walked towards their car, opened a rear door and climbed inside. The others joined her a little later, presumably after another briefing on her state of mind. She never saw her parents again. Her last glimpse was of them standing on the pointless tiled floor in the hall, screwing her reputation behind her back.
After a couple of days they gave her a room of her own.
The moment she entered the ward one of her fellow patients took it into her head that Sibylla was the Virgin Mary with a new baby Jesus inside her. It wasn't a problem for her, but the staff soon became utterly bored with the woman's pleading for her sins to be forgiven. Getting Sibylla out of the way seemed the most effective solution.
Delighted with the sick woman's helpful delusions, Sibylla gratefully pulled her own door shut. All she wanted was to be left in peace.
Her belly grew bigger and bigger.
Now and then a midwife would turn up, check her blood pressure and listen to the baby through some kind of inverted funnel. The growth was apparently doing all right, because the midwife didn't call often. Instead she gave Sibylla a book about pregnancy and delivery, which went straight into the drawer in her bedside table.
This time she was allowed walks on her own in the park, because they all agreed that the exercise was good for her. She spent a few hours walking every day. The white stone buildings looked quite beautiful, at least from a distance. If she let her mind go blank, it was possible to imagine that this was the park of a great castle.
The man who wanted her to talk didn't call very often either. Maybe he had sicker patients to look after. Apparently she was no longer crazy, only pregnant. It wasn't his fault that back home it amounted to more or less the same thing.
About two weeks before the baby was due she felt her first true contraction, an intense pain as if from a hammer blow. It passed as suddenly as it had arrived. Alone in her room, she collapsed on the bed, feeling terrified. What was that?
Then the pain struck her again, fierce and relentless.
Something had broken inside her. Fluid flooded down between her legs.
This must be death. It was her punishment. Something had broken inside her and her blood was pouring out of her. Once the pain had faded she looked down at her legs. No blood. Had she peed herself? Lost her mind or something?
The pain came in a wave next time. It hurt so much she was screaming out loud. Seconds later a female nurse came rushing in and started dealing with the wet sheets. Sibylla felt ashamed.
I'm sorry. Please, I need help. I think something's broken inside me.'
The woman just beamed at her.
'Don't worry, Sibylla. You're about to give birth – that's all. Just wait here. I'll go and phone Transport.'
She hurried away. Phone Transport? Where were they going to transport her?
'Good luck, Sibylla!' That's what they had said after pushing her stretcher into an ambulance. The words were ringing in her ears.
Now she was in another hospital, lying in bed alone in another room.
'Would you like us to call your husband?'
She had shaken her head. There was an uneasy silence.
'Is there anyone else you'd like to be with you?'
She had not answered the question, just closed her eyes and concentrated on trying to stop the next wave of pain. She didn't have a hope, of course. Nothing she could do helped against the unbearable pain racking her body. She was reduced to being just a body, possessed by an alien force intent on drilling a hole large enough to let the creature inside it get out. Her mind was out of order, her will had been dismantled, leaving her exposed to this purposeful, unstoppable process that would give her no peace until it had run to its completion.
She was about to make life.
A white clock faced her on the opposite wall. Its hands jumped forward regularly, her only reminder of a world outside that followed other laws.
The pause between each little jump seemed so long. Hours passed.
Now and then some woman would pop in to see her. She could hear another woman's screams from somewhere nearby. Had it been like this for her mother when she gave birth to Sibylla? Was that why she never really liked her daughter, didn't even accept her existence? If you caused this much pain, how can you ask to be loved?
When the minute hand had jumped round the clock-face four times and she was almost unconscious from the effort, another woman came to see her. Once more the visitor stuck her fingers in there, but this time it was apparently different. Her opening was ten centimetres. It sounded like a mistake, the cleft in there must be vast. Her body couldn't hold together any more. It had fallen apart, dissolved.
She was lifted onto a delivery chair. Once seated there spread-eagled, legs wide apart and her genitals on full show, she was told to push. She was anxious to please them, but it seemed obvious that pushing would finally make her split in half. Her head would split too, right round from her chin to the back of her neck. She was pleading with them to stop the pain, but they were all in the service of the force and wouldn't let her off.
Someone said she could see the head. She told Sibylla to relax and stop pushing.
A head?
They could see a head. Coming out of her.
Once more now, Sibylla. Then it's over.
Suddenly the room echoed of a baby's crying. The last tearing pain faded away and was gone, as abruptly as it had come.
She turned to see a small dark head resting on the shoulder of a nurse, who was swiftly leaving the room.
The minute hand did another of its little jumps, just as if nothing special had happened. But a person had just emerged from inside her. A tiny human being with a head covered in dark hair. Unasked, this creature had started growing inside her and then dynamited its way out.
Sibylla was still sitting in the seat, her head leaning heavily against the backrest and her legs wide apart. She watched as the clock registered the passing of another minute, wondering why no one ever asked her if she minded.
In the chilly attic, the large hands rotated round and round the white clock-face and day followed night followed day.
She had found a shower-room that wasn't locked and crept down to have a hot shower every night. Standing for a long time under the water helped to thaw her body, but did not shift her depression.
When her unexpected visitor had left, the first instinct had been to pack up and leave. But then, where would she go? Her helplessness exhausted her so much she stayed where she was.
She didn't care. Let what happens happen.
She took just one additional precaution by hiding her things and spreading out her mat in the corner by the chimney-shaft. It was further from the door, but on the other hand she was less likely to be taken by surprise again.