“Is everything ready?” she asked. Her voice sounded tight.
“Pretty much. The other children will be here in forty-five minutes.”
He held his watch up toward her. An Audemars Piguet, worth around half a million kronor. Not a Rolex, which Jack presumably considered too mainstream. Everyone had a Rolex these days. Anyone who was anyone had an Audemars Piguet. Or a Patek Philippe.
“The pop stars are coming at three. Don’t say anything to Julienne, she doesn’t know.”
He nodded in Faye’s direction.
“How’s business?”
“Great, thanks. And things seem to be going well for you too. The stock-market launch is exciting.”
“It’s a lot of work. But it’s worth it after everything I’ve been through.”
Faye smiled at him and Ylva.
“Congratulations on the baby. Ylva told me.”
She changed position, so that he could see a bit farther up her skirt. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, she didn’t want any lines spoiling her skin-tight dress.
Jack watched her movements.
He raised his glass to her. The crotch of his trousers looked tight.
“Mm, yes, great,” Jack said in a thick voice.
He gave a strained smile. His eyes looked unfocused.
Ylva cleared her throat. “Jack’s been a bit unsure. There’s so much going on with his work right now, and you of all people know how seriously Jack takes being a parent.”
Was that how she used to sound? Jack thinks, Jack wants, Jack believes? Christ, she must have been unbearable. And now Ylva was sitting there, a younger version of her, with her hands on her stomach and a stupid grin on her face, praising the same man. Blinded by love and admiration. And dependency.
Jack preferred his women like that, Faye realized now. But that only made her despise Ylva even more. Had she felt any qualms at all? During any of those no doubt countless times she had had sex with Jack at the office, in their home, in her own apartment while Faye sat at home waiting? Probably. But she had been blinded by her love for Jack. And looked down on his pathetic wife, drifting about the house all day with no career, no ambitions. No doubt Ylva thought herself far superior in comparison. And had concluded that Faye was unworthy of a man like Jack.
Faye drank the last of her wine. She looked sadly down at the bottom of the narrow glass. She didn’t feel quite bold enough to go and refill her own glass at the bar.
“I think I might go and have a nap before everything gets going,” Ylva said, and stood up with a last look at Faye.
A silence fell after she left the room. After a while Jack cleared his throat.
“You’re looking incredible,” he said quietly.
His eyes didn’t leave her cleavage. She let him look at her. Tucked her hair back to uncover her neck and collarbone, no longer hidden under a protective layer of fat. She would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy him looking at her, but the fact that her body persisted in reacting to him didn’t mean that he had control over her.
Part of her wanted to show him that she no longer needed him. Make him understand that she no longer saw herself in terms of him. But she mustn’t give in to the temptation to show her superiority. Partly because she needed to get him to fall for her again, which would never happen if he didn’t think he could control her. Partly because he—no matter how badly he had treated her—was still Jack. However much she might try to deny it, his words meant something to her.
“Thanks,” she replied coolly.
His gaze moved down to her cleavage again and lingered there. She took out her mobile and pretended to send a text.
“Do you know, I still dream about you sometimes?” he said as he got up from the armchair, went over to the bar and fetched the bottle of cava, and refilled both their glasses.
He sat down on the sofa next to her, coming far too close.
The smell of Jack’s aftershave confused her. It was the same scent he had worn in Barcelona. She took a deep breath, told herself that she mustn’t let herself be taken in by her memories, all the things she had believed to be true but which had turned out to be lies. She was going to have to reject his advances but maintain his interest. A precarious balancing act. Jack liked the chase. That was how she had caught him the first time, a long time ago in another life. She turned toward him and looked directly into those beautiful blue eyes, which were now focused solely on her.
Men like Jack always wanted what wasn’t theirs. That was why he had been unfaithful to her. That was why she knew he was going to be unfaithful to Ylva as well, if he hadn’t been already. That was why he would be unfaithful to any woman in his life for as long as he lived.
Hearing the sound of footsteps behind them, Faye and Jack turned at the same time and saw Julienne approaching. She was wearing a beautiful pink dress. She had makeup on, and it made her look very grown-up. Faye wasn’t altogether sure what she thought about that.
“You look beautiful, darling,” she said anyway. “Like a princess.”
Julienne did a twirl.
“Jessica says I could be a model,” she said.
“Jessica?” Faye repeated, searching her memory for the names of her daughter’s school friends.
“The makeup artist,” Jack said when he saw her confusion. “And she’s right about that.”
He swept Julienne up onto his lap and Faye felt a moment’s doubt. As Julienne sat between them on the sofa it felt briefly as if they were a family again. It made Faye feel a bit lost, disoriented.
She reached for her glass and raised it to her lips as Jack stared greedily at her.
—
The sound of shrill voices could be heard in the garden. The girls had started to arrive. Luxury car after luxury car pulled up in the drive and out tumbled a deluge of six- and seven-year-olds in party outfits. Faye stayed in the background while Jack and Ylva chatted to the parents. The pile of presents on the table grew. Most of them were wrapped in white paper bearing the logo of NK department store. The magician got up onstage and the girls cheered. Waiters brought nibbles and fizzy drinks for the girls in their party dresses, who were sitting at round tables in the party tent, like some fancy evening reception. Julienne clapped her hands happily. A famous children’s television presenter was acting as emcee, introducing the acts.
When Sean and Ville, last to perform, appeared onstage, the shrieks of excitement were deafening. Faye realized that this was her chance to scan the key logger. The girls left their tables and crowded around the edge of the stage. Ylva and Jack seemed completely absorbed in the girls’ reactions as their idols appeared. She discreetly left the tent, went inside the house and upstairs to Jack’s study. He still had the same desk he’d had when they were together, the one that once belonged to Ingmar Bergman. She felt a pang of nostalgia for the room in the tower. Its majestic stillness, hovering above the city, a memory from a distant time. She shook off the feeling and forced herself to focus. Those few moments on the sofa with Jack and Julienne had knocked her off balance. She couldn’t afford that.
She put her handbag down on the desk and leaned over the computer. Beside the screen were two framed photographs. A black-and-white Polaroid picture of Ylva that must have been taken several years ago. She was staring seriously at the camera, her lips slightly parted. Fucking the camera, as Chris would have said. The other picture was of Jack, Ylva, and Julienne in a restaurant. Ylva and Julienne were wearing matching dresses. They looked like a happy little family. All three of them were laughing. Faye took a deep breath. It was only an illusion, a facade that Jack had created. Nothing more.
She moved the mouse and the computer came to life, and she typed in Jack’s old password. Held her breath. Good, he hadn’t changed that one. An oversized picture of Jack and Ylva appeared. They were embracing on a Jet Ski. She forced herself to stop staring at the image, inserted
the USB she was holding, and did what Nima had told her.
It took her a matter of seconds to find the hidden file that had logged his activity, and she clicked to transfer it to the memory stick. Then she went into My Documents and transferred the files she found there, even though she didn’t anticipate finding anything useful in them.
She heard a scraping sound from the corridor outside. She quickly put the computer back into sleep mode and looked around desperately for somewhere to hide, but before she had time to do anything the door swung open. She turned around.
Jack was standing in the doorway. The expression on his face switched quickly from surprise to suspicion.
Faye thought quickly. She smiled at Jack. Submissively. Apologetically.
“I . . . I just wanted to see how you’d furnished your study. You know I always loved this desk. I suppose I was curious to know if you’d kept it.”
He processed the information. Appeared to conclude that she was same naïve, pathetic creature she had always been.
“Why?”
“Oh, this is so silly,” she said, looking down at the floor. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t be in here, this is your home, it’s not right, but I got a bit nostalgic . . .”
She took a step toward the door but when she was about to pass him he grabbed hold of her wrist. She almost dropped the USB stick from her hand.
“Why did you want to see how I’d furnished my study?” he asked with a smile as he pulled her toward him.
She smelled that familiar scent again. His hard penis pressed against her hip and against her will she felt herself getting wet.
“Do you miss me? Is that what this nostalgia of yours is all about?” Jack whispered hoarsely in her ear.
“Jack, stop it,” she murmured.
But he ignored her protests. His eyes were blazing. He didn’t like it when she objected. The old Faye had never said no, was more likely to beg and plead for him to touch her, to notice her.
His voice became scornful but he didn’t let go of her.
“So little Faye has had her tits done to get more attention in bars. Have you missed getting fucked by a real man? Is that why you’ve come here, begging to be fucked? I’ve heard all about the way you’ve been behaving. Going home with one man after the other. No, not men. Boys. How many have you had sex with since we split up, Faye? Have any of their cocks been bigger than mine? I bet you’ve had more than one at a time as well.”
His own words were making him pant, his cock grew harder against her hip, pressing against her. Faye’s body responded, and she let it, so that she could protect the USB stick. She didn’t protest when he unzipped her dress and pulled it down to her waist. He tore her bra off. Ran his fingers over her breasts. Squeezed them hard. They had healed well, but she didn’t have any feeling in the scar tissue, so his touch felt rather odd.
“Little Faye, who just wants to be fucked.”
Jack turned her around. Grabbed the hem of her dress and hoisted it up over her hips. Undid his trousers. He pushed her forward, over the desk that once belonged to Ingmar Bergman, and pressed into her. She gasped. Felt invaded.
“You like that, don’t you?” he snarled. “Being fucked from behind like some horny secretary. You might be a CEO now, but you still like getting fucked like a whore. Is this what they do to you, Faye? Do they take you like this? Those young guys? Do they turn you around and fuck you from behind?”
He was panting harder now, and kicked her legs farther apart so he could push deeper, pressing her down on the desk with his right hand coiled hard in her hair.
His movements grew rougher. Faye held onto the desk with the hand that wasn’t holding the USB stick. She groaned girlishly, she knew he liked that. With her left cheek pressed against the desk she stared at the photograph of Ylva’s serious, black-and-white face.
He reached his climax. Faye felt a stab of pain as he pressed in further. He groaned one last time, pulled out, took a step back, and fastened his trousers. She lay there for a few seconds before standing up and pulling her dress down.
“You’ve always been a first-class fuck,” Jack said. “I’ve missed this.”
He smiled at her, pointed at her breasts, which were still exposed, flushed, with large, swollen nipples.
“They’ve turned out really well, I like them.”
Jack looked full of confidence. Order had been restored. He had conquered her, reclaimed what was his, at least for a while. She let him believe that.
Without letting go of the USB stick she slipped her arms back into the top half of the dress and pulled it up over her shoulders. Then she turned her back on Jack and held her hair up so he could fasten the zip. Seconds later he was gone.
When Faye walked back into the tent the girls in their expensive designer dresses were standing up and singing “Happy Birthday.” Sean and Ville were leading the singing.
Ylva glanced over at her. She looked suspicious but resigned. Her skin had taken on a greenish pallor in the heat of the tent and she looked like she felt sick, her blond hair hanging limply. She pointed at Julienne, who was now wearing a sparkling crown.
When everyone in the tent had given three cheers Jack appeared beside Ylva, kissed her on the cheek, and put his arm around her. Ylva relaxed. Faye couldn’t hold back a smirk. She could feel Jack’s semen slowly trickling out of her, down the inside of her thighs.
FJÄLLBACKA—THEN
MOM WAS WHIMPERING down in the kitchen but I couldn’t get up from my bed, couldn’t stop Dad’s blows from hitting their target. Instead I let the darkness envelop all my anxiety, shut out all my fear.
Autumn would soon be here and Dad would do worse things to Mom. To me and Sebastian. It felt like the stormy autumns never ended, with Dad like a raging animal trapped in a cage with his prey. We all circled around one another: a small, isolated unit in a small, isolated town.
Sometimes I dreamed that someone would come and save us. Everyone knew, after all. Even if they had no idea how bad it was, they knew enough. Why didn’t anyone come and save us? Free us? But everyone sheepishly averted their gaze, blind to the bruises and cuts. None of the teachers ever said anything. None of the doctors at the clinic ever commented on the injuries Mom, Sebastian, and I showed up with. Last winter Mom had to get medical help eight times. A dislocated shoulder. A fractured wrist. A cracked jaw. No one questioned her stories about clumsy falls down cellar steps, the doors of kitchen cupboards suddenly flying open to attack her. Everyone shut their eyes.
What would this winter be like?
Mom’s crying grew even louder when my door opened and closed. Sebastian padded over to my bed and curled up next to me. He fell asleep snuggled up beside me, like a dog seeking warmth. But I found no comfort in his presence. No one needed to tell me that the only person I could find comfort in was myself. I had found that out the hard way.
I was stronger than they were. Especially Sebastian.
Sebastian’s breathing merged with the sound of the sea raging outside. The last of the summer visitors had left for the season. They all pretended not to hear the screams from our house, one of the few that was inhabited all year round. Presumably they didn’t want anything unpleasant to disturb their summer holiday. In a way I could understand that. But I couldn’t help wondering if they ever spared a thought for the children in the next house when they shut their summer pleasures away and went back to their nice homes in Gothenburg. Probably not.
Once Faye had dropped Julienne off at school the next day she shut herself away in her office, opened her laptop and went through the file from the key logger. It took her ten minutes to find the new password for Jack’s Gmail account: venividivici3848.
She hadn’t told anyone about what had happened in his study. No matter how much she might have hated having to play the role of desperate little Faye, she hadn’t had any choice. Jack mustn’t be allowed to get suspic
ious, she’d had to go along with him to prevent him from finding the USB stick that had been scorching her hand. But she couldn’t deny that she had enjoyed feeling Jack inside her again. That troubled her. Annoyed her. That was a chink in her armor that she couldn’t afford.
Faye logged into his Gmail account, scrolled through the files, and found what she was looking for. She downloaded everything, calmly and methodically.
Everything she needed was there.
She spent the rest of the morning going through the text file in minute detail, tracking everything he’d been doing on his computer. His porn searches for “young girl,” “teen,” and “petite,” banter with Henrik about the “slut” he’d had sex with in the office, and mockery of a female employee’s weight. It could all come in useful one day.
Faye packed her new laptop away and told Kerstin she was going out. She went and sat in Starbucks at Stureplan and carried on looking through the documents. Compare was going to be put on the stock market on Tuesday the following week. That gave her plenty of time to work out a precise plan of how to use what she’d found. She’d probably be in a position to set everything in motion on Friday. Four days from now.
Her mobile buzzed. It was Jack. Can’t stop thinking how much fun we had. Do you want to meet up? he wrote.
She considered how she should reply. Things had started to move faster than she had expected. She needed to keep him interested until it was time for the final step. She thought for a while longer, then tapped a quick message and pressed send.
—
Chris was drinking apple juice at a table on the upper floor of the Sture Bathhouse. The air was humid. Retirees wrapped in white bathrobes were eating two-hundred-kronor salads, all to the accompaniment of the water lapping in the pools below.
Faye pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down.
“Why did you want to meet here?” she asked.
Chris looked up in surprise.
“Oh, hi. I didn’t see you. I don’t know. The sound makes me feel calmer somehow. It’s like being in a great big womb.”
The Gilden Cage Page 23
