“But Lennart is dark.”
“Justus, it’s just something kids say. There are no Travelers anymore. Was he mean to you? Who was it?”
“Patrik,” Justus said. “But he’s screwed up. His dad beats his new wife.”
“What are you saying?”
“Everyone knows about it.”
She thought about his words. Of course he would be likely to hear a thing or two, but she wasn’t worried. He was used to standing up for himself. Justus could look delicate but it was a mistake to think he was soft all the way through. Inside, he was as hard as flint, just like John.
She sniffled involuntarily at the thought of John. Justus stared straight ahead but put his hand in her lap.
“Dad wanted us to move,” he said. “I did too.”
“Where would we move to? When did he say this?”
“During the fall. He wanted us to move far away.”
“He had his dreams, you know that. But I think he was happy here.”
“He said he wanted to get away from this shit hole.”
“He did?” Berit stared at him in amazement. “He used those words?”
Justus nodded and stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to feed the fish.”
Berit watched him from the sofa. He moved like John, making the same hand movement over the surface of the water. The cichlids swam up to him in sweeping groups, beautifully synchronized so that they looked like one big body.
Then someone thumped on the door. The person didn’t bother with the doorbell, just kept thumping. Justus dropped the can of fish food and stared into the hall. Berit got up but felt as if her shaky legs were not going to carry her. She looked over toward the clock on the sideboard.
“Do you want me to get it?” Justus asked.
“No, I’ll go see who it is,” she said and walked to the front door.
The thumping had stopped. She put the chain on the door and opened it. Lennart was standing outside.
“Why are you banging on the door?”
She thought about not letting him in, but he would make such a racket in the stairwell that it was just as well to let him in. He came in like a shot.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Don’t start that with me, you bitch. I’ve never been more sober in my life. Bitch!”
“Go away!” Berit said curtly and opened the door again, holding it wide open and boring her eyes into Lennart’s.
“Take it easy. I’ll leave when I’m good and ready. There’s something you need to tell me.”
“Justus, go to your room,” Berit said with a shrill voice. She placed herself between her son and her brother-in-law.
“Just leave,” she hissed. “To think you have the nerve to come here with your dirty mouth.”
“I’ve talked to Mossa and Micke,” Lennart said calmly.
Berit threw a quick look over her shoulder. Justus was still there, frozen in place. There was something reminiscent of John in him.
“Go away. Please. We can talk later.”
“There’s not going to be a later,” Lennart said.
A quiet power struggle was going on between them. If only he had been drunk, she thought, it would have been easier. But Lennart looked unusually clearheaded. His cheeks were ruddy and there was no lingering smell of alcohol or sweat on him.
“What happened to your lip?”
“None of your business. We’re not here to talk about my lips,” he chuckled, pleased with his improvised joke.
Berit lowered her head and drew a deep breath.
“Lennart, for heaven’s sake, think of Justus. He has lost his father. He doesn’t need this now. It’s enough, we…”
She sobbed once.
“This is a fine time to cry. You should have thought of it before.”
Berit went over to Justus, put a hand on his shoulder, and looked him in the face.
“Justus, please go to your room. He’s either drunk or crazy. He’s talking bullshit. I don’t want you to have to hear this.”
“I live here too,” Justus said, without looking up.
“Of course you do,” Berit said. “But why don’t you let us alone for a minute.”
“What is he talking about?”
“I don’t know,” she said in a low voice.
“The hell you don’t!” Lennart shouted from the door. “Justus needs to hear a little about his mother. You go putting on some act like you’re the grieving widow and crying and shit. Who says you weren’t behind it?”
“That’s far enough. Even if you’ve gone stark raving mad, then think of your nephew. Justus, go to your room. I’ll take care of this.”
“I don’t want to,” Justus said.
“We’ll talk about this later. Go to your room and close the door,” Berit said in a firm voice and more or less forced him into his bedroom. Then she turned to Lennart.
“Who sent you here with this disgusting babble?”
“Dick, do you remember him? Sure you do, you probably remember his teeth.”
“Stop it!”
The anger made her voice rise an octave.
“Shut the door!” she shouted at Justus.
“You can’t scare me by screaming. There are people who say you had something to do with John’s death.”
She stared at him.
“Fucking idiot,” she hissed. “You goddamned fucking idiot.”
“Shove it up your ass.”
“First you tell me who is spreading these lies about me.”
“They aren’t lies. Micke told me.”
“Micke Andersson? I thought you knew me. And John,” she said.
“In the stillest waters,” he said, and she slapped him in the face.
“It’s time for you to go now.”
“Look here, bitch,” he said and grabbed her arm as Justus burst out of his room.
“Stop fighting!” he shouted. “Stop!”
Berit embraced her son but he freed himself. Anger convulsed his face, he sniffed and stared helplessly at her.
“Justus, don’t listen to him.”
“Suit yourself,” Lennart said derisively. “Mossa called you a whore and that’s a good name for you, the way you carried on with that neighbor of yours.”
“You mean Stellan? He’s gay! He hugs everyone. You know that, Justus. That’s just Stellan.”
“And what about Dick Lindström. You’ve been with him too, haven’t you? Did you like the way he bit you?”
“You are not in your right mind,” Berit said calmly. “You are a sick man living in a sick world.”
“Who’s Dick?” Justus asked.
“He’s a friend of John, someone Berit has been getting it on with. Going behind John’s back with.”
“He came on to me once, tried to feel me up, but I fought him off. You were here, for God’s sake. I was cooking in the kitchen, while the rest of you sat in here playing cards. I didn’t want to say anything because John would have tried to kill him.”
“So that’s your story now, is it?”
“There’s never been a different story. He tried to feel me up, he was disgusting. Do you really think I would…”
Berit didn’t finish the sentence.
“Don’t believe a word he says,” she told Justus. “He’s sick.”
“Don’t say stuff like that,” Lennart said.
Justus looked at the two of them with a blank expression, then walked into his room and slammed the door.
“Are you happy now, you bastard?” Berit said. “He has enough on his mind without you coming here with your shit. Go now, before I kill you. And don’t you ever come here again, or I’m calling the cops.”
“If anyone should call it would be me,” Lennart said. “Did John know about this? Is that why he died? If it is, you’re going to be dead soon.”
Berit stared at him.
“You shithead! God, how I hate you. Running around, drinking all the time. John tried to get out and he succeeded, but you still run around like the disgusting wino you are. And you have the nerve to come here and threaten me, you damn scumbag. It’s like John said, you never grew up. He despised you, do you know that? He hated all your talk about Ymergatan and pool halls. That was all a hundred years ago. Is it anything to talk about? Pathetic small-time gangsters who terrorized the block. Go drown yourself, pisshead. You think you were really something then, like kings, but purse snatching and thinner sniffing only kills your brain. John had the guts to leave all that behind, but you’re still crawling around in the shit. Do you know that John hated all your loose talk but he put up with it because he was your brother-otherwise he would have thrown you out a long time ago.”