Leona

by Jenny Rogneby

  Daddy had said she was not allowed to go anywhere, but he probably wouldn’t be angry when he found out she was with Grandma. Grandma was, after all, Daddy’s mother. Maybe she should write a note to Daddy. She looked in the kitchen for a pen. There was a pile of newspapers and envelopes on the kitchen counter. She took a white envelope and started to write.

  I gone to grammas.

  She put on her shoes, and then she set the long key in the lock highest up and turned it. Two turns, as she had seen Daddy do. Then the lock below. It echoed in the stairwell outside when she carefully opened the door. She tiptoed down the stone stairs. There were many steps, but she didn’t dare take the elevator. What if she pushed the wrong button?

  The stairwell was scary. The slightest sound echoed loudly. Her knees hurt from walking down the stairs, but she had to hurry. What if Grandma went out now? While she was on her way? She slipped as quickly as possible down the hard, high stairs.

  Far down below she heard the entry door close. She stopped. Listened. No one said anything. She heard heavy steps on the stairs, making their way upward. Thump, thump, thump. She didn’t dare move. Stood completely stock-still. It was too far to run up again.

  Suddenly the steps stopped. Keys rattled. A door was unlocked and opened. The door closed again and was locked from inside. Olivia continued. Now she had to run before any more people came. Before Daddy came. She ran down and opened the entry door. The cold struck her. She wished she had brought her jacket but it was impossible to go back. She started running between the parked cars and out onto the street to make her way over to the other side.

  Just as she was close to the white lines she saw two adults approaching on foot. She met the man’s gaze. Daddy! She almost froze to ice there in the middle of the street. She stopped. Did not know where she should go. Should she turn back? No, Daddy looked angry. He let go of the bag he was holding and started running toward her. She turned away from him and continued running across the street. Between the cars that were parked on the other side. Up onto the sidewalk. Toward the short little stairs near the turning area outside Grandma’s building. A few more steps and she was at the stairs. She turned around. Daddy could be seen right behind a car driving past on the street. He shouted her name. Came running toward her. She had to hurry. Just four steps, then she would run as hard as she could to Grandma’s doorway. She took hold of the cold iron railing. One step down. She turned around. Daddy was close now. She had to run faster. Three more steps left. She got ready. Jumped.

  FORTY-ONE

  “Here is terrace,” said the real estate agent in broken English, pressing on the remote control she had taken from a holder on the wall.

  The apartment was somewhat larger than the one I had just looked at on Portomaso Bay in St. Julian’s on Malta. This one was in Sliema, a stone’s throw away. According to the agent it should have a fine view of the capital, Valletta.

  As the agent held down a button, the curtains along the panorama windows glided slowly to the sides. The whole room was lit up by daylight. The stone tiles of the terrace and the marbled frame around the pool shone like shimmering silver. The water in the pool, along with the sea and sky, were shades of blue clearer than I’d ever seen in a Swedish summer. On the other side of the bay Valletta’s old churches and fortresses could be seen. I gasped for air. I had never seen anything like it. The night’s poker playing at Dragonara Casino, which hadn’t gone as I’d imagined, was completely blown away.

  I was high.

  This beat everything.

  The agent stood in the far corner smiling at me. When I couldn’t think of anything reasonable to say she went over and slid one of the big windows to the side. The next one followed along. And the next.

  “You can slide open the whole row if you want it completely open here,” she said, taking a step out onto the sun-drenched terrace.

  I followed her.

  “Isn’t this great?” she said. “There’s a remote control for the awning too if you want shade.”

  I didn’t talk much with the agent. My words were unnecessary. She understood. We made a quick round through the two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and kitchen, and then sat down on the light-gray sofas. She talked about prices and closing dates. I was thinking about other things. About the life I could live in this apartment. Far away from any life I had ever lived. Far from the apartment on Södermalm. Far from the single-family houses in the suburbs. Far from my childhood home with its cold cellar. This would be mine.

  When we left the apartment I turned around, looked out the windows one last time and fixed an image I’d make sure I’d see again.

  FORTY-TWO

  “She’s awake, Ronni!”

  Olivia looked up at a blond head of hair, hovering above her. She was in bed. Her eye felt strange. It would only open halfway. Her eyelids were heavy. She tried to raise her head but it was stuck. The mattress spun. She felt sick.

  “Ronni!” the blond hair called again.

  Olivia looked around. Now she remembered. She recognized the room. Not at home with Mommy. Not with Grandma either. She was back. Now she heard Daddy’s steps approaching the door. She closed her eyes again.

  “She just looked up, I saw it,” said the blond hair.

  Daddy came up to the mattress. He leaned down over her. She could smell his breath. Beer. Smoke.

  “Olivia!”

  He took hold of her shoulder through the blanket. Not hard, but it still hurt. She looked up. Right into Daddy’s eyes. His eyes were glazed. He stood up again. Olivia’s vision was too blurry to make out whether he had a frown on his forehead as he usually did when he was angry.

  “What is this, Olivia?” said Daddy, throwing something down.

  She had to strain her eyes to keep them open. Her head ached. She tried to see what Daddy had thrown on the covers. It was the envelope. The one she had written on. Had she destroyed an important piece of paper?

  “Grandma? What were you thinking? Grandma lives in Östersund, Olivia. That’s six hundred kilometers from here, damn it. Were you planning on running there or what?”

  Olivia reached up to take away something that was chafing against one of her eyes.

  “Jumping on the stairs like that, of course you’re going to fall down and hit your head. Obviously!”

  Daddy sighed and mumbled something about there only being problems with her. She felt her forehead with her fingers. There was some kind of bump.

  “But now, Olivia, you see what happens when you don’t do as I say. And leave the bandage alone; it was hell to get hold of.”

  He took her hand and pulled it away from her forehead. Olivia tried to say sorry but she had no voice. She could only make a hissing sound.

  “Shouldn’t we take her to the hospital anyway, Ronni?” said the blond hair.

  “Shut up! You can leave if you’re going to be that way.”

  “I haven’t been paid.”

  “You haven’t done anything either, damn it.”

  Olivia tried to say that she felt sick but she didn’t have time. She felt her stomach churning. She leaned to the side and vomited on the mattress and down on the floor.

  “No, damn it. Get a bucket,” Daddy shouted.

  The blond hair ran out of the room. Her heels tapped on the floor. Olivia’s head was pounding, and she was cold but still sweaty. There was a large pool on the mattress.

  The blond hair came back with a bucket and paper towels. Daddy started cleaning off the mattress and floor.

  “Maybe she has a concussion?” said the blond hair.

  “Oh, knock it off,” said Daddy. “Are you a doctor now? No one ever died from a few scrapes and a bump on the head.”

  “I can’t cope with this. Is there going to be anything, Ronni? Otherwise I’m splitting,” said the blond hair.

  “Well, that was a lot of fucking talk. Leave then!”

  Without looking at him she stomped out into the hall and slammed the outside door.

  “You manage to
scare away everyone, Olivia,” said Daddy while he wiped the floor. “Damn it!

  FORTY-THREE

  I stared out the window on the airport bus from Skavsta. I had thought it was gray and gloomy when I left, but that was nothing compared to now. Malta and Sweden were like comparing full color and gray scale. I was amazed that the end of September did not mean warm autumn colors with red, yellow, and green leaves as in past years.

  The days on Malta had passed quickly, yet I had managed to do what I’d planned. Larissa had stayed with the bartender the first night and after that they had been inseparable. Saturday morning they went out on his boat. Larissa told me how they lay on the deck in the sun while the boat bobbed in the turquoise-colored water in one of Malta’s bays. He had taken her to the other side of the island and the bathing beach on Golden Bay, where they made out. I had explored the island, looked at apartments during the day, and spent the evenings and nights at Dragonara Casino.

  I had won.

  I really had.

  But, in total, the nights at the casino had brought me down to a minus sum. At one point I had been so sure of winning that I managed to persuade a man to loan me some money, when I had already gambled away what I had with me. If you don’t have any money for the stake, you have no way of winning back what you’ve lost either, which I needed to do. I couldn’t see any other way out. The man demanded to see my business card and because I was too drunk to think about it I handed it over. It amused him that I was a police officer and that I hadn’t told anyone that I played. Now he had a proper hold on me if I didn’t pay him back. I would deposit the money in his account in the Bank of Valletta. The losses were a defeat, but I avoided thinking about it.

  The thing that had made the strongest impression on me during the trip was the view from the apartment. The image was etched on my retinas. The sky. The blue sea. The buildings far below. The feeling of being dizzyingly high above the ground gave me strength. Power.

  With that in mind I stared at the gray, wet landscape outside the airport bus until I fell asleep.

  FORTY-FOUR

  “Hello, I’m home!”

  I tried to sound as cheerful and happy as I could. I took off my autumn jacket and shoes. The children shouted and came running out into the hall. I leaned down and hugged them both. I had missed them. Peter didn’t come to the door.

  “Where’s Daddy?” I said.

  “In the kitchen,” said Beatrice.

  I left my suitcase in the hall and went out into the kitchen. He was standing with his back turned, doing the dishes.

  “Hi darling,” I said.

  He turned around, wiping his hands on the tea towel.

  “Mommy, do you know what I did at day care?” Beatrice called.

  “Honey, you can tell her later,” said Peter. “I want you to take Benjamin and play in your room for a while. I need to talk with Mommy.”

  Without protest Bea took her brother’s hand and guided him away. I looked at Peter.

  “Has something happened?”

  “Do you remember when I asked you how much money we had in our joint savings account?”

  “Yes…”

  I understood at once where this was headed. It was crucial to keep a cool head. I went over to the kitchen cabinet and took out a glass. Opened the refrigerator.

  “You said you didn’t know how much was there,” Peter continued.

  “What’s this?” I said, taking out a plastic container with something in it.

  “I checked today,” said Peter.

  I cracked open the lid. A pungent, rancid odor came out of it. I recoiled, grimaced, and closed the lid quickly.

  “Jeesh, what’s in this?”

  I looked at Peter. I needed time to think.

  “Do you hear me, Leona?”

  I quickly opened the cabinet under the counter and threw the whole container as it was right into the garbage. It landed with a thud far down in the can.

  “That wasn’t really necessary,” said Peter. “It was Tupperware. We got it from your mother.”

  “I can’t stand moldy old food.”

  “Leona, I’ve checked the bank account.”

  I was just about to pour juice in the glass but stopped. I sighed deeply and turned slowly toward Peter.

  “I didn’t want to tell you because I was afraid you would say no.”

  Peter looked with raised eyebrows at me. As if he had expected a different response.

  “Larissa was in financial straits after the separation and needed to borrow money,” I said.

  “What?”

  I didn’t know what Peter had expected, but it obviously wasn’t this.

  “She wouldn’t have been able to stay in the house if she didn’t buy him out. Without the money she would have been thrown out onto the street.”

  Peter stared at me with wide open eyes. He didn’t say anything.

  “She was in trouble, Peter. I had to loan her the money.”

  It was true that Larissa was divorced, but the house she lived in was completely hers, because her deceased mother had left it to Larissa in her will. Hopefully I hadn’t mentioned that to Peter before.

  “But what the hell, Leona, 450,000 kronor?”

  “That was what she needed so that she could keep living there. What could I do?”

  “Suggest that she sell the house and move into an apartment of course, just like all the rest of us who can’t afford to live in a big fucking fancy house. Now we can’t buy any of the houses we’ve looked at.”

  “But were those houses really anything to have anyway, Peter?”

  Peter took a breath as if he was about to burst out shouting. He stopped himself, stared at me, and shook his head. Didn’t seem to know what he should say. He sat down at the kitchen table and said calmly, “When is she going to pay it back?”

  “We’ll just have to make a repayment plan.”

  “But my God, haven’t you even talked about when she should pay it back? Are you out of your mind? For that sort of thing you should have signed a contract.”

  “She has her own business, alongside her job, and brings in quite a bit. It will all work out.”

  I could hear how lame that sounded. But it would have to sound the way it did. I didn’t have the energy to bother sounding credible. I knew it wouldn’t be long until I could put the money back in the account.

  Peter stood up.

  “This is completely insane. I don’t get that you could loan out 450,000 kronor without asking me.”

  “So what would you have said if I’d asked?”

  “No, of course! No sane person lends that much money.”

  “Have you thought that perhaps there are people who still stand up for others when they’re having a hard time?”

  “Oh, what a pity it would be if poor Larissa couldn’t afford to live by herself in a big, luxurious house but instead had to move to an ordinary apartment like everyone else.”

  “This was after their separation, Peter. She was completely mentally run down. The guy was unfaithful with a woman ten years younger. He wanted to marry her and have kids with her. She couldn’t bear to pick up all the pieces right then.”

  As usual I had no problem filling out the lies with details.

  “There’s more money, too,” said Peter.

  I looked at him with raised eyebrows.

  “There’s more. Why are you lying to me? What the hell is this with the gaming companies?”

  I remained silent. I knew that money had been withdrawn from the account by various gaming companies and I hadn’t bothered to try to camouflage it. It was careless of me. A mistake. But Peter had been uninterested all these years in our finances, and had always let me take care of it, so I’d thought he wouldn’t check.

  I sighed. Looked down at the table.

  “I gamble a little.”

  “What do you mean, gamble a little?”

  “I’ve played a little poker. Borrowed a little from the account.”

 
“Poker? But what the…How much, then?”

  “I’ve won, too. Quite a bit actually.”

  Peter stared at me without making a sound. Obviously I wouldn’t get out of this without giving him a better explanation. It didn’t seem as if I had any choice this time other than to play the victim. I sat down, looked at the table, and let out a deep sigh.

  “Peter, I think I’m a gambling addict.”

  FORTY-FIVE

  A nature reserve without a single person in the vicinity was exactly what I needed to divert my mind. The Monday after the Malta trip had been stressful at work. Minna and Sam had a thousand questions, the phone rang constantly, and Claes pressured me for information about the results of the investigation. It was the usual. As soon as you were back after a vacation, just when you’d had time to start thinking about your life choices, you were thrown back into the demands of the everyday. You worked in order not to have time for those thoughts.

  Now it was Tuesday. First thing in the morning I turned off my phone and drove out to Hellasgården in the Nacka reserve. I parked the car and took the path down toward the glassy water. I sat down on a wooden bench and took a few deep breaths, refreshing my lungs with oxygen. I devoted time to reflecting on the direction in which my life was headed. Claes had started questioning why I was not making any progress in the investigation. Soon the managers above him would be hassling me too.

  I needed to show them some results.

  Arrest someone.