The silence in the room was deafening. They looked at one another. There was no triumph in her voice when she finally answered.
“Allright, I’ll stay.”
She didn’t ask him why he had changed his mind, made no attempt to get up and throw herself in his lap or venture any words of reconciliation, simply a dry observation that they were still a couple. What he was grateful for was her passivity. It was as if she could tell that if she made a big deal of the whole thing then Stig would have fled.
He poured himself a cognac. They sat quietly, Jessica on the couch and he in an armchair. He knew that the silence could only be broken slowly and with great care. For a long time they would have to walk across new ice.
He thought about Laura, about her suitcase and the decision to leave the country for Italy. She had shown him the airline ticket to Palermo, told him which hotel she was going to check into, and that he could come later.
She was going to leave on Saturday morning and then wait for him there. An old song about longing came back to him. It was about Italy, wasn’t it? He only knew the fragment of a stanza:“… where small lemons grow…”
Then, a couple of hours ago, the thought of spending days and nights with Laura at a romantic hotel by the sea had seemed fabulous. Granted it is not particularly warm in Sicily in November but the air in the mountains is fantastic, there are few tourists, and the wine is excellent, Laura had explained.
Can I ever trust myself again? he wondered and glanced at Jessica. Can she trust me? He was unable to feel real joy. Not yet, maybe it would come. It felt as if he had completed a terrible training session, run a marathon, or wandered thousands of miles through the desert under the burning sun. The exhaustion was total, both physical and emotional.
He felt as if he could go on now that he was cleansed. Of course he had heard friends talk about similar conflicts, emotional and mental cleansing rituals, but he had not understood how arduous they could be.
Jessica was lost in thought. He knew she was keeping tabs on him and that she would continue to do so for a long time.
What he was dreading most was the conversation he would have to have with Laura. Was that what Jessica was waiting for? He suddenly stood up and left the room without a word, closed the door to the study, and walked over to the phone.
When Stig was gone Jessica made two calls from her cell phone. One was to the lawyer who took care of the firm’s business. They only exchanged a few words, as if speaking in code. The second call went to Lennart Öhman. He was still at the office.
“It’s me,” Jessica said in a strained voice. “Whatever Stig may tell you, it’s not true. If he talks about any changes, wants to sell, or talks shit about Hausmann, then don’t pay any attention. Listen but don’t talk back too much.”
“But-”
“Don’t interrupt me! Stig is going through a crisis but everything’s going to be fine. First we’ll finish with the Germans and then continue on with Paris. Have you heard anything?”
“Philippe called. He thought things would work out in Lyon.”
“Great! As I said, keep up appearances and don’t do anything until you have spoken with me.”
“But-”
“I have to go,” Jessica said and hung up.
When the doorbell rang twenty minutes later Stig realized it was Laura. He gave Jessica a quick glance and saw that she was thinking the same thing. As he slowly rose up from the armchair he could see Laura’s red car in the driveway through the window.
The question was if he was going to open the door or not. Letting Laura in could result in anything. On the other hand, if he didn’t open then she could make a scene outside the house.
Their phone call, when he told her his decision, was short. At first Laura laughed and called him a coward, then she became threatening and finally hung up.
Now the doorbell was ringing nonstop.
“Open it,” Jessica said.
He walked over to the door. He could see her before him, the implacable Laura, who had been an asset in the negotiations with Hausmann but who on other occasions had made him and the others in the office wary and scared. It felt as if he was standing before his executioner. He heard Jessica leave the living room and walk into the study.
Stig threw open the door, gripped by a sudden wrath. Laura was standing outside, her hair framing her face like a dark halo. Her features were almost unrecognizable, her mouth a line and her eyes black with hate. She was holding a pipe wrench in her hand.
For thirty seconds, perhaps more, they stood there quietly with only the threshold between them.
“I want to talk to Jessica,” Laura said finally.
“There’s no point,” Stig said and was surprised that he even managed to open his mouth.
“I’m going to kill that whore,” Laura continued and made an attempt to step into the house.
Stig made himself wider, put his right hand up against the door frame, and prepared himself to stop her.
The blow came unexpectedly. Laura swung the pipe wrench and brought it down on his arm. It was not a hard blow but his knees buckled and he took a step back. He registered Laura smiling before she forced her way past him.
She saw the suitcase in the hall and turned around.
“Is it yours?” she asked.
“What the hell are you doing? You’ve taken my arm off!”
“I don’t think so,” Laura said calmly. “Where is she?”
At that moment Jessica opened the door to the study and walked toward them.
“Watch out, she’s armed!” Stig yelled.
“Laura,” Jessica said. “It would be best if you left.”
Stig could not fathom how Jessica was able to retain her calm. It seemed as if Laura was taken aback for a few seconds at her unexpected entrance, before she went on the attack.
“It’s you, you devil,” she snarled and rushed forward, raising the pipe wrench and striking.
Jessica threw herself to the side and the wrench struck a painting behind her back. It was one of the first paintings they had bought, one by Nils Enar Eskhult. It depicted a blooming garden. The metal tool crushed a flowering apple tree in the middle of the picture. Slivers of glass spilled over the floor.
Laura lost her balance and Jessica sprang to the side, lifting up a chair and using it like a shield. Stig stood frozen to the spot.
“This isn’t happening,” he said and stared at the woman he had made love with only a few hours ago, and with a passion that he had not thought possible.
When Laura again rushed forward with her weapon raised above her head, like a runner with the Olympic torch, Stig’s passivity was broken. He thrust his leg forward and tripped Laura so she tumbled headlong onto the floor and dropped the pipe wrench. Stig threw himself over her, gripped her wrists, and pressed her body to the floor.
Laura’s body went completely limp and Stig was afraid he had injured her with his violent attack.
“Let go of me,” she hissed.
Her eyes shone with panic.
“You damned lunatic!” he yelled.
“No one is allowed to hold me down!” Laura screamed. “I’ll die!”
“I don’t think so,” Stig said and pressed harder when he felt her try to get up.
“I’ll die,” she whispered.
“Let her go,” Jessica said. She had picked up the pipe wrench from the floor.
“Never,” Stig said.
He felt Laura’s body working under his own, heard her heavy breaths, and saw how she tried to bite his arm. Suddenly and for a few moments he relived their last tryst. Revolted by his own reaction he loosened his grip a little.
“Let her go,” Jessica repeated and Stig got to his knees.
Laura remained lying on the floor. The only thing they heard were her panting breaths. Jessica looked at Stig but he avoided her gaze. I’ve fucked this woman, he thought and had a bitter taste in his mouth. I’ve cheated on my wife with her, planned to run away with her. Shame made him get up quickly and direct a kick against the body at his feet but he stopped himself at the last moment.