The Gilded Cage

by Camilla Lackberg

  She got into the lift and tried to think about anything but Chris.

  She had sent the audio files to the same journalist who published the first leak. The new revelations that the managing director of Compare had known about and tried to hush up two deaths in their care-homes that were the result of negligence had sent shockwaves through Sweden, far beyond the confines of the business community.

  Compare’s share-price sank like a stone. The business press and evening tabloids found plenty of politicians and business leaders ready to say that Jack had to resign, along with a number of anonymous sources on the board of Compare.

  Today the share-price had sunk to sixty-three kronor.

  The lift stopped and Faye had to make herself open the door. Johan had taken a leave of absence from work to be able to care for Chris full-time, so Faye’s visits had become more sporadic. She was worried about intruding, worried about disturbing what she had started to realize was the last time Chris and Johan would have together. And sometimes it felt like she simply couldn’t deal with it. Every time she saw Chris so sick it was as if a part of her died. When it came to Chris she wasn’t the least bit brave. Just a cowardly shit who wanted to run away from the truth, from reality.

  Johan opened the door.

  ‘How are things?’ Faye said.

  Johan shrugged.

  ‘It’s … what can I say?’

  ‘Do you want to pop out for a bit, get some fresh air?’

  ‘Maybe. Chris wanted to talk to you on your own anyway.’

  Faye’s stomach clenched.

  When she walked into Chris’s bedroom she had to stop herself from crying out. Chris was just skin and bones now, her ribs were sticking out, the skin of her shoulders stretched tight over her collarbones. Her eyes had sunk into their sockets, her cheeks were puffy, dry and grey.

  Outside life was carrying on as usual, buses driving this way and that, people arguing, loving, driving, getting married and divorced, but up in this loft apartment on Nybrogatan Chris was lying in bed, slowly fading away.

  Faye sat down on the chair beside the bed and gently took Chris’s hand.

  ‘It’s all over for me,’ Chris said.

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘Someone has to. And you and Johan ought to be doing something more useful with your time than looking after me. I’m dying.’

  Faye squeezed her hand.

  ‘But your doctors …?’

  ‘Oh, they can’t do anything. They’ve stopped my treatment.’

  They had told her the cancer had spread. Chris’s body was riddled with tumours and the treatment wasn’t having any effect on them, they just kept spreading.

  There was nothing more they could do except ease her pain. They had suggested an end-of-life plan, including moving into a hospice. But Chris had refused, as she explained to Faye in a hoarse voice.

  ‘Does Johan know?’ she asked tentatively.

  ‘Not yet. I can’t … that’s why I asked you to come. I was wondering if you could tell him. I couldn’t bear to see his face. I know I’m being a coward, but …’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Faye said quickly. She couldn’t handle another second of this discussion.

  She patted Chris’s hand softly, then rushed into the bathroom. Unable to hold back her feelings any longer, she wept quietly, curled up on the bathroom floor with her forehead pressed against the cold tiles.

  She had no idea how long she lay there. She didn’t get up until she heard Johan open the front door.

  Faye and Johan were walking in silence along Nybrogatan. Faye had wanted some air, needed space to be able to talk to Johan. The walls in Chris’s flat felt like they were about to crush her.

  They turned onto Karlavägen. She pointed at The Londoner.

  ‘I think we’re both going to need a drink.’

  She asked for two shots of vodka, and took a sip of hers as she headed towards the table where Johan was waiting. He was drumming his fingers on the table. His face looked taut.

  She had to hold it together now, be the strong one.

  ‘This … I don’t know how to say this, Johan. The chemo’s stopped working, the cancer’s spread. They’ve stopped the treatment.’

  He nodded slowly.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘My youngest brother’s a doctor. An oncologist in Gothenburg. Chris had a copy of her notes in her bag. I copied them with my mobile and sent them to him. He helped me to understand what they said. I know it sounds terrible that I’ve been snooping like that, and I know it’s her right to tell me as much as she wants, when she wants. But I … I couldn’t bear not knowing … I can’t help it, not when it comes to Chris. She’s shutting me out when she doesn’t need to.’

  Faye nodded. Put her hand on his. She understood exactly.

  He looked up at her.

  ‘I still want to marry her. I’ve booked a time in a church in a fortnight’s time. It was supposed to be a surprise.’

  Faye leaned back. She suddenly felt very uncomfortable. She thought she’d got to know Johan well by now, she liked him, and he didn’t seem the sort, but she couldn’t help herself, her own bitterness bled into her grief about Chris.

  ‘If you’re marrying her for her money,’ she said, leaning closer to him, ‘I’ll kill you.’

  He flinched. Looked like he wasn’t sure if she was joking.

  ‘Understand? I’ll kill you, with my bare hands.’

  She let him see a glimpse of the darkness she was constantly hiding, let it step forward for a moment.

  ‘Why would I …?’ Johan was staring at her in shock.

  ‘Because Chris is good for more than a hundred million, and I know what the scent of money can do to people. I’ve seen it. And I’ve seen what men can do. How ruthless they can be. I like you, Johan, I really do, you seem like a good man. But my best friend is going to die. The only person I’ve ever let get this close to me apart from Kerstin. And I’m not going to let anyone deceive or exploit her on her deathbed. So if there’s any financial motive behind this decision to marry her before … before she dies … I suggest that you give up the whole idea of getting married and carry on playing the faithful fiancé with absolute conviction until …’

  Faye took a sip of her vodka.

  ‘But if your intentions are honourable, I’ll help you arrange all the practicalities. And I’ll be able to tell the difference. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me.’

  Johan met her gaze without being alarmed by her darkness. That made her feel calmer. Johan was genuine. He wasn’t scared of her.

  He slowly turned the glass in front of him. Eventually he said:

  ‘I like you. And I appreciate that you’re looking out for her. I love Chris more than anyone I’ve ever met. That’s my only motive. I want to be able to call her my wife.’

  They looked at each other.

  ‘Good,’ Faye said, then drank a gulp of vodka and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘Let’s get on with organizing the wedding of the century, then.’

  They drank a silent toast. But they both flinched at the chime of their glasses touching. For a fleeting moment it sounded almost like a bell tolling.

  Fjällbacka – then

  The day of Sebastian’s funeral everyone got the day off school. Since his death, I had been left alone by the other kids. Too much had happened in too short a space of time. Shock lay like a blanket over the schoolyard, the classrooms, the metal lockers with their ugly, meaningless graffiti.

  The church was full to bursting. Sebastian, who had never had any real friends, had suddenly filled a church. Several girls his age were crying and blowing their noses noisily. I wondered if they had even spoken to him.

  Mum had chosen a white coffin. And yellow roses. The roses were pretty pointless, really. Sebastian never cared about that sort of thing. But I reasoned that stuff was purely for the people left behind. After all, Sebastian was lying cold and dead in the coffin. What d
id he care about anything now?

  It was Dad who found him, hanged with a belt from the rail inside his wardrobe. He yelled for Mum, then pulled Sebastian down and removed the belt from his neck. Then he shook him and screamed at him while Mum called for help.

  It took a long time for the ambulance to arrive, but I knew it wouldn’t make any difference if they got there quickly. Sebastian’s lips were blue and his skin was white. I knew he was dead.

  I could feel everyone staring at us as we sat in the front pew. Dad’s suited arm was shaking against mine. Shaking with rage. Because death was the only thing he couldn’t control. The only thing he couldn’t frighten into submission and obedience.

  Death didn’t give a damn about him, and that drove him mad as he sat there in the church staring at Sebastian’s white coffin with the yellow roses Mum had chosen.

  There was no coffee afterwards. Who would we invite? None of the people who had packed the church to the rafters were our friends. Just vultures who were attracted to our grief and wanted to wallow in it.

  Mum and I both knew that Dad would need to vent his anger when he got home. We’d sensed the fury within him for several weeks. Mum told me to go up to my room. I obeyed at first and went up the stairs. But at the top step I stopped and sat down. I leaned my cheek against the wooden post at the end of the banister and felt the cool white wood against my skin. From there I could see down into the kitchen. If they had turned round they would have been able to see me, but they just kept circling each other like two tigers in a cage. Dad with his head thrust forward, his fists clenching and unclenching. Mum with her head held high, wary, carefully watching every movement he made. Ready. Prepared.

  When the first blow came she didn’t try to dodge it. She didn’t duck. Dad’s fist hit her straight in the chin, making her head fly back, then bounce forward. Dad punched again. A light shower of blood sprayed from her mouth, peppering the white doors of the kitchen cupboards like an abstract painting. Something flew out of her mouth and skittered across the floor with a hard clatter. A tooth.

  She fell to the floor but he went on hitting her. Over and over again.

  I realized that Mum wasn’t going to survive long in that house now that Sebastian was dead.

  Two days later Compare’s share price hit a new low. Faye was at a lunch meeting about a new collaboration between Revenge and the pop star Viola Gad – who was reeling from the shock of finding her husband in bed with an eighteen-year-old – when Kerstin texted: 49.95 kronor. Now!

  She put her cutlery down, apologized to Viola and her manager and hurried off to the bathroom.

  She locked the door and sat down on the toilet. Everything she had been fighting for was suddenly within reach. She had enough capital to buy 51 per cent of the shares, take control of the board and see to it that Jack got fired. It was a dizzying thought. She felt like yelling out loud. She called Steven, her Isle of Man stockbroker, and instructed him to buy every Compare share he could get his hands on. She told him to get in touch if he needed more money, and she’d transfer several million more from Revenge’s account.

  ‘No problem, boss. It will be yours before the end of the day,’ he said.

  She waited another minute or so, then shook herself and went back to her table. Her pulse was racing. But as she sat down opposite Viola Gad at the table where the Taverna Brillo’s famous whitefish roe pizza was waiting for her, none of the turmoil inside her was visible.

  Faye walked across Stureplan, where the lunchtime rush was over and people were heading back to work. The air felt oppressively warm. She sat down on a bench, wondering how to spend the rest of the day. There wasn’t much she could do while the process of acquiring Compare was underway. She called Chris but got no answer. She was probably resting. Johan wanted to organize the wedding himself, but had promised to get in touch if he needed help.

  Her thoughts returned to the takeover. A man would have celebrated his success, his hard work, without feeling embarrassed, without having to apologize. She decided that was what she would do, so she sent a text to Robin, who she had thought she was finished with, asking him to meet her at Starbucks.

  He wasn’t far away, and they agreed to meet in fifteen minutes. No show of wounded male pride there. He knew what she wanted and wasn’t particularly bothered that she hadn’t been in touch for a while.

  He had already ordered for them both by the time she walked into Starbucks.

  ‘Great to see you. I didn’t know if you wanted milk in your coffee?’ he said, gesturing towards the mug.

  ‘We’re not going to have coffee.’

  He laughed. His handsome face was open and cheerful and she found being in his presence oddly relaxing right now. He didn’t need any explanations, there was no game-playing, no subjects that had to be avoided, no excuses. He didn’t require anything from life beyond his gym, food, water and sex.

  ‘No coffee?’ His smile told her he understood what she meant.

  ‘No, I don’t want to drink coffee. I want to fuck you.’

  ‘Really?’ he teased, but stood up at once. Like an obedient puppy.

  ‘I’ve booked a room at Nobis.’

  He raised his eyebrows.

  ‘We’re splashing out today, then?’ he said as he put his jacket on.

  ‘I’ve just spent several million buying a company. I think I deserve it.’

  ‘I like you, you know that?’

  Robin held the door open for her.

  ‘Good. That’ll make it easier to ask you to do the things I’m about to tell you to do.’

  ‘I’m your slave for the day.’

  ‘You’re always my slave,’ Faye said with a smile.

  Robin didn’t protest.

  Faye and Johan were sitting on either side of Chris’s bed. Her chest was moving up and down, her face was ashen and the skin on her scalp looked tight. She was so small, she’d faded away so quickly.

  Johan gestured towards the door. When they were out in the hallway he leaned back against the wall.

  ‘I don’t know what to do. She can’t walk now. We’re going to have to cancel the wedding.’

  ‘Out of the question.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Absolutely. We’ll do it here, at home. In the bedroom, if necessary. Chris is going to get married.’

  ‘But how …?’

  ‘We bring the priest, make-up artist and wedding dress here instead. There’s no need to bother with any guests, apart from the most important ones. Chris doesn’t like people much anyway.’

  She was fighting her own feelings. Suppressing the gales of grief raging through her. Chris had been strong for so long. She’d been like a big sister to Faye, had looked after her ever since she first arrived in Stockholm. Now it was time for Faye to step up. That was what sisters were for. Chris would get her wedding, and she would get her Johan.

  ‘Tomorrow, two p.m.?’ she said.

  Johan swallowed several times.

  ‘I’ll call the people we want here, and the priest. The wedding dress …’

  ‘I’ll pick it up on the way home this evening. And get hold of a make-up artist.’

  ‘What about food?’

  ‘I’ll sort it. Just make sure that you and Chris are ready to get married tomorrow. I’ll be here first thing to help her get ready.’

  The next morning Faye was standing outside Chris’s door with Kerstin. She took a deep breath and rang the bell. Johan opened the door, gave them both a hug, then stood aside.

  ‘Everything’s ready,’ he said. ‘Everyone’s taken the day off, they understand that it has to happen like this if it’s going to happen at all.’

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘I don’t care if it’s a big wedding or a tiny one. But before she … goes, I want to get married to her.’

  ‘Good. Then that’s what we do.’

  He led them into the master bedroom.

  Chris was sitting up in bed, propped up with pillows. In front of her was a
tray of coffee, orange juice and toast.

  ‘How’s the most beautiful bride in the world?’ Faye asked, sitting down on the side of the bed.

  ‘I know I wanted to be thin when I got married, but this might be taking it a bit far.’

  Faye couldn’t bring herself to smile at the joke.

  Chris looked up at Kerstin and Johan.

  ‘Can you leave us alone for a minute?’ she said. ‘I want to talk to my bridesmaid.’

  After they closed the door behind them Faye gently took hold of Chris’s hand. It was so small and fragile, barely any bigger than Julienne’s.

  ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you,’ Chris said softly.

  ‘Don’t worry about that, weddings are always fun to organize, no matter what the circumstances.’

  ‘I don’t just mean that, I mean everything. All these years, all the things we’ve done. All the shit we’ve been through together. Sure, there may have been the odd hiccup, with Jack and all that, but most of the time you’ve been the best friend anyone could ever wish for.’

  Faye couldn’t hold back the tears.

  ‘Do we … do we have to talk about this right now? You’re getting married, after all.’

  ‘Yes, we do. I haven’t got long left. And I want to say this while my mind’s still clear.’

  Faye nodded.

  ‘I couldn’t have asked for a better friend in life than you,’ Chris went on. ‘You bring out the best in me.’

  Faye brushed away the tears that were trickling non-stop down her cheeks. ‘You’re the crack where the light gets in,’ she said. ‘The one Leonard Cohen sang about. I don’t know … I have no idea how I’m going to manage without you.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not worried about that,’ Chris said. ‘I’m just so sorry I won’t be able to join in.’

  ‘I slept with Robin again, by the way. Do you remember him? The guy I met when you forced me to go to Riche when I’d been feeling sorry for myself for far too long.’

  Chris burst out laughing. ‘See, you can manage fine without me.’

  She leaned back and took some deep breaths. The slightest movement seemed to exhaust her.