In the back seat, Lenny and Ralf are each sitting in their corner. Malin is sitting between them, leaning against Lenny. And Lenny has his arm around her.
‘Eddie forced me,’ says Lenny, in a serious tone.
‘How? Why did you go along with it?’ wonders Malin who hasn’t really got over how blunted and weird Lenny has become.
‘I don’t have Tourette’s…’
‘What? You don’t?’ Malin shouts and looks up at Lenny. Now she understands nothing. Has he suddenly turned normal? Is that why he is so weird?
Ralf places his hand upon Lenny’s. Lenny looks at his dad who nods silently as if asking Lenny to go on with what he was saying.
‘He said he would reveal that I don’t have Tourette’s if I didn’t help him to get hold of Titus’ book. At first I thought he was kidding me, but then I realised he meant it for real. He was close to phoning the tabloids several times. So I did what he said, it didn’t seem so bad. It was almost like a bit of a prank in the beginning. Then it sort of grew. He got totally obsessed by it. We never talked about anything other than the manuscript. The manuscript this… the manuscript that… It seems as if we hunted it all summer long, that we spied on Titus for every step he took. Broke into his flat and got him sloshed at Södra Teatern and lots of other crazy things. And then all this with the earth cellar…’
‘But what d’you mean, I can’t follow,’ Malin interrupts him. ‘Isn’t it bloody good that you don’t have Tourette’s?’
‘No… it’s thanks to Tourette’s that I have a public. Without Tourette’s I wouldn’t be anything, just an ordinary useless rocker-wannabe. I am Tourette’s-Lenny, the guy who has had an incredibly tough handicap but who has nevertheless managed to do something with his life. But now I’m finished as an artiste. A rotten imposter. I have stolen sympathy and empathy from honest people. And as for all the people who have real compulsive syndromes, well, I’ve dragged them into dirt and dishonour. I have made a fool of them. As if Tourette’s is something to joke about, like a false nose you put on to get a few quick laughs. You just shout out “Cock in your ear” and everyone gets happy and frightened at the same time. No, it doesn’t work like that. But I’m pleased it’s over now…’
‘It’s my fault,’ Ralf interrupts in a loud and slightly grating voice.
‘Why?’ asks Malin and moves her gaze to him.
With almost a roaring sound, Ralf clears his throat. What he is going to say is deeply buried…
‘I only cared about my patients when you were little. I never understood how much you needed me. That’s right, isn’t it?’
Lenny nods in silence.
‘So your only recourse was to develop Tourette’s in the hope that I would become interested in you and devote more time to you. You heard about my patients who had Tourette’s. They seemed weird and you became curious. Then you started carefully with facial tics and soon moved on to mildly compulsive behaviour, avoiding lines on the kitchen floor and so on, swearing dreadful tirades with revolting expletives when your grandmother was visiting. Then you started with that damned body-blinking and suddenly everybody became terribly interested in you…’
Lenny looks out through the window and nods. A sad countenance.
Ralf goes on.
‘But the whole thing was fake. I realised at once and could never reconcile myself to the idea that you just acted out what my patients suffered from for real. I demanded that you stop, that you got a grip of yourself. I wanted a healthy and normal kid. Even though many of my patients’ problems were inside their heads, their afflictions were at least not a result of an active choice. They imagined they were ill, and they couldn’t actually help it. But you, you chose to have Tourette’s. And even though you got to try out all my therapies you never got better, just worse and worse. I put you through dreadful things and you were only a child. You became cynical because I never had any faith in you. I turned into a repulsive parent, a monster. And you refused to be cured, perhaps to punish me. Isn’t that true?’
Tears run down Lenny’s cheeks. Malin puts her hand on his stomach and pats him gently. He is still looking out of the window when he answers.
‘I hated your patients. You gave them infinitely more therapy and attention. Then when they got better, they disappeared forever. You always wondered how things had gone for them. The sicker they had been, the more you cared. So I thought that the more Tourette’s I got, the closer I would get to you. And at the same time I noticed that it led to attention at school and that people started to respect me. The more I swore, the greater the number of adults who wanted to talk to me. I was someone. I became someone.’
‘But how did Eddie find out?’ wonders Malin.
‘He knew straight off. I have never been able to hide anything from him. But we haven’t talked about it, never. Not until he suddenly started to threaten me a couple of months ago. It was horrid. Something had happened between him and Titus early in the summer, at that festival where we got pissed together with Eddie. We were boozing together all night long and the two of them were sort of holding back on each other. After that he was completely transformed. Angry and greedy, like. Even though I’ve known him all my life, I became afraid of him.’
‘Forgive me, Lenny,’ Ralf mumbles quietly with a large lump in his throat. ‘I gave you too little love when you were small. I was obsessed with my theories and patients. I’m afraid I still am, I suppose. It didn’t exactly get any better when I moved to Stockholm, everyone there is completely confused. But if you give me the chance, I’ll never demand anything from you again. You can be whoever you want and I will love you unconditionally. Because I really do love you. I have missed you so much.’
Lenny looks at his dad, his eyes welling up.
‘I love you too, dad.’
Malin’s shawl is wet from all the tears. But the sadness isn’t so sad any longer. Now the string orchestra is playing inside her again. Now the confetti is slowly falling over the back seat like pretend-snow in a fairy-tale film in the olden days. Now the angels are smiling; now the cherubs are playing their little trumpets. Everything grey has acquired the most beautiful of Technicolor pastel shades.
She will remember this moment for the rest of her life. She carefully dries the tears under her eyes so as not to smudge her mascara on her cheeks.
‘I love you, Lenny. And you too, Ralf.’
Titus’ body and soul have been through a purgatory, and half-way to Gothenburg he falls asleep.
Astra takes the opportunity to phone Evita and give her a rundown of the situation. Evita becomes radiantly happy and can’t praise her enough for having found Titus so quickly. She says that the book fair seems to be a success. Everyone is there. Astra asks Evita to contact the Gothenburg police: Eddie X must be dealt with. What he has done to Titus is terrible. How many years do you get for kidnapping? Eddie has evidently forced Titus to sign a contract while he was imprisoned – Titus has relinquished the copyright of The Best Book in the World. He has ‘confessed’ that he has stolen both the ideas and the manuscript from Eddie. Such a contract can hardly be valid, can it? It would be good if the company’s legal department could prepare for a match against both Babelfish and Eddie. Astra says that the police can question Titus at the fair before they arrest Eddie. Eddie is going to be at the Babelfish stand when everybody mingles at five o’clock and they ought to get there in time. Good, says Evita, and urges Astra to drive carefully.
Astra ends the call and breathes out. It’s going to be all right. She has managed to get The Best Book in the World this far, so she will bloody well manage to get it that little bit further.