Betrayal

by Karin Alvtegen

‘Pardon me, my name is Anders and . . .’

  He made a little pause for effect before he continued.

  ‘I have something I’d like to speak with you about.’

  ‘Oh yes? And what would that be?’

  ‘It would be best if we could meet somewhere. I’d rather not talk about it on the phone.’

  There was silence on the line. He heard porcelain rattling in the background and then the sound of a door closing. A lamp was turned on in one of the windows on the side of the house he was facing.

  ‘And what does this regard?’

  ‘I can meet you tomorrow whenever and wherever you like. Just tell me a time and place and I’ll see you there.’

  ‘Tomorrow I’m busy.’

  I know that, you stupid idiot. But you can make it before the ferry leaves.

  ‘How about on Tuesday?’

  ‘I can’t do it then either. I’ll be out of town for a few days.’

  He didn’t intend to wait that long, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. Somehow he had to arrange a meeting, but how much should he say? It went against the grain for him to plead with the pig on the other end, but the thought that he was doing it for her sake made him conquer his distaste.

  ‘Henrik, it’s best for both of us if we meet as soon as possible, you and I.’

  And then when he didn’t get a response, a little hint to put on the pressure:

  ‘I just can’t stand going behind your back any longer.’

  The silence that followed confirmed that his words had hit home. It had been an innocuous statement. How could a man who was unfaithful know what might be going on behind his back? But the fact that someone was doing something behind his back, since he was doing the very same thing, might interest him enough to agree to a meeting.

  Then he cleared his throat.

  ‘I can meet you at nine tomorrow morning. In front of the main entrance to the Viking Line terminal at Stadsgården. What do you look like?’

  ‘No problem, I’ll recognise you. I’ll see you at nine.’

  He hung up, looking towards the lighted window with a smile, and went back to his car.

  He had seldom had such a calm night, and for the first time in ages he awoke thoroughly rested. He spent a long time picking out his clothes. It was important that he be dressed properly; Henrik had to understand that he had been outmanoeuvred by a man who was superior to him. He didn’t want to take off the light-blue cardigan he had slept in; he was well aware of what had prompted his calm. It still smelled faintly of her, but he knew that it was a transitory security.

  The phone rang.

  He looked at his watch. It was only seven a.m. Who would call so early on a Monday morning? Not until he picked up the receiver did he realise that he hadn’t even counted the rings.

  ‘Jonas.’

  ‘Hi, Jonas. This is Yvonne Palmgren at Karolinska.’

  He couldn’t say a word, only gasp furiously for breath. This time she apparently didn’t intend to let him cut her off.

  ‘I want to meet with you, Jonas. Anna’s funeral is on Saturday and it’s important that you be included in the process.’

  ‘What process? Do you want me to dig the grave or what?’

  He heard her take a breath.

  ‘We’re going to hold the funeral ceremony here at the hospital chapel, and I would like you to be involved in the planning. How she should be dressed, what kind of music to play, what kind of flowers to have, how to decorate the casket; no one knows better what she liked.’

  ‘Ask Dr Sahlstedt. According to him, she couldn’t even feel anything before she died, so I have a hard time believing that she would suddenly start caring now. By the way, I’m booked up this week.’

  He hung up and had to admit, annoyed, that the conversation had got to him. Bothered him. The only way to deal with it was to counter-attack. He went out in the hall, picked up his wallet and took out the yellow Post-It note that Sahlstedt had given him. She answered after the first ring.

  ‘Jonas here. I just want to say that if you or anyone else ever calls me again about Anna or anything to do with her then I’ll . . . I have absolutely no obligations with regard to her, and for God’s sake, I’ve done more than anyone could ask for that fucking whore. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  There was a pause before she replied. When she finally began to speak she did so calmly but with emphasis, as if every word were underscored with a red pen. A contemptuous tone, as if he were inferior to her.

  ‘You’re making a big mistake, Jonas.’

  The loathing he felt overflowed.

  ‘One more word and swear I’ll make sure you . . .’

  He broke off and regretted the words the instant he said them. He shouldn’t be rash, shouldn’t reveal to people who had no business knowing, that he was the one who had the power now. Then it might be used against him.

  He hung up, stood still for a moment to catch his breath. He didn’t manage to collect himself enough to go back to the wardrobe until he had pulled on the light-blue cardigan again and laid down on the bed for a while. It took him a very long time to obliterate the thoughts of that unwelcome conversation.

  He got to the meeting place in good time, a half hour earlier than they had agreed. He wanted to have a complete overview, be prepared, see Henrik coming and be the one to choose how and when he would make the first move to contact him. He wondered whether Henrik would come alone or bring the whore with him; it probably didn’t make any difference, but he would prefer to meet him alone. Their boat wouldn’t be going until a quarter past ten. With his own ears he had heard them mention the departure time during the conversation in the pizzeria.

  It was a simple matter to vanish in the crowd of people in the bowels of the terminal. He sat down on a bench next to a bunch of middle-aged, hungover Finns in jogging suits, where he could see the main entrance. And then at five to nine Henrik appeared, alone. Just inside the doors he stopped, put down a well-packed bag on the floor, and looked around. Jonas bided his time, wanting to let him wait for a while. Watched him look at his watch over and over, turning and twisting in all directions and closely studying all the men passing by.

  Jonas closed his eyes and took a deep breath in the dark, resting a moment in the calm that filled him. Knowing for the first time what awaited him. That the future would be his reward for all his struggles up to this day. That the fear could not reach him any more. The feeling was as unfamiliar as it was welcome, so utterly liberating, an all-encompassing grace.

  Then he got up and started walking towards his enemy.

  He stopped a metre from him but said nothing, let him keep wondering. At last it was the other man who broke the silence.

  ‘Are you Anders?’

  He nodded but chose to remain silent. The enjoyment of the other man’s obvious discomfort was too much to resist.

  ‘What was it you wanted? I’m in a bit of a rush.’

  This time he sounded annoyed.

  ‘Thank you for taking the time to meet.’

  Jonas didn’t intend to let himself be hurried. Instead he smiled a little. Maybe his expression would be interpreted as arrogant, but that wasn’t really his intention. He looked down at the multicoloured synthetic carpet in embarrassment; he had to play his role well. He had to acquire an ally, at least that’s what the other man had to believe. He mustn’t arouse his antipathy, which would render him unusable. The man named Henrik who was unfaithful had set the rules of the game; he must never know that he had become a helpless pawn in the task Jonas had been assigned.

  Jonas raised his eyes and looked at the man who was Eva’s.

  ‘I don’t quite know how to begin, but I suppose I might as well tell you the plain truth. I’m in love with your wife, and she’s in love with me.’

  The other man’s eyes went blank. Utterly blank. Whatever the man named Henrik had expected, it certainly wasn’t the words he had just heard. His mouth fell open, giving his blank stare added support, completi
ng the picture of a man who had totally lost all control of his life. For a long time he stood without uttering a word, and nothing in the world could match the sense of control Jonas felt. Yes – one thing. But he would possess Eva only when he had earned it.

  ‘I understand that this must come as a shock, and I’m terribly sorry to have to do this to you, but somehow I’m sure it’s better for you to know what the situation is. I myself have been betrayed once and I know how much it hurts, so I promised myself never to put anyone else through the same thing. I know what betrayal can do to a person.’

  The man who was named Henrik and who was unfaithful had closed his mouth now, but the realisation of what this news meant had clearly brought him out of balance. He looked around as if in an attempt to find something appropriate to say.

  Jonas fixed his gaze on the man’s lips. The lips that had kissed hers, that knew her taste.

  He was hiding his clenched fist in his jacket pocket.

  ‘Shouldn’t Eva be the one to tell me this?’

  ‘Yes, I know. I tried to talk her into it, but she doesn’t dare. She’s so afraid of how you’ll react. I mean, neither of us wishes you any harm, we really don’t, but we can’t help the way we feel. We love each other. And of course we have Axel to think of as well.’

  The other man’s eyes went black when Jonas spoke his son’s name.

  ‘For his sake we’ve tried to break things off several times, but . . . we just can’t live without each other.’

  That hit home, he could see that. To be able to make choices was one thing, to be rejected quite another.

  ‘Was it Eva who asked you to tell me all this?’

  ‘No, absolutely not.’

  There was silence for a moment.

  ‘But I’m doing this for Eva’s sake, because I love her. She’s the most fantastic woman I’ve ever met. Perfect in every way. Well, you know what I mean.’

  He gave him a confidential smile: just between us studs.

  He saw the other man swallow. Now there was clear aversion in his eyes.

  ‘How long have you been seeing each other?’

  Jonas pretended to think back.

  ‘It must be about a year now.’

  ‘A year! So you’re saying that you and Eva have had a relationship for a year?’

  Jonas let the silence speak and saw the impact strike home. Her honour was restored. Now the pig knew that he had cheated on a woman who was loved by another man, someone who deserved her more. Henrik was superfluous in her life. Already rejected.

  So. Now you can go. The sooner the better.

  ‘I know. It feels terrible to be duped like this. I wish we’d told you this sooner, so that you could have decided what you wanted to do. It would have been better for all of us if Eva and I had dared to be honest from the start, but we just couldn’t do it. This may be poor consolation, but if you only knew how much trouble it is to go behind someone’s back. I really want to ask your forgiveness.’

  The doors behind them slid open and the blonde woman came in pulling a suitcase on wheels. When she saw them she stopped short and turned indecisively in another direction. When Jonas looked at her, the other man looked too. The man named Henrik who had just learned that nothing was as it seemed picked up his bag.

  Jonas couldn’t resist asking.

  ‘Is that someone you know?’

  ‘No, but I have to go now.’

  He made a move to continue into the terminal, clearly afraid of revealing that the woman was his travelling companion.

  Jonas stopped him.

  ‘One more thing, Henrik, for both your sake and mine. Please don’t say anything to Eva about this. She told me that you’d be away until Wednesday, and I plan to spend those days trying to convince her to tell you herself when you come back. What more can I do? I hope that in spite of all this you have a pleasant trip. I’ll be seeing you.’

  With these words he turned and left Henrik to his fate.

  He already knew what his own fate would be, and the longing grew stronger with every step as it approached.

  In order to endure the waiting, he was going to drive over right now and take a look at her.

  When the outer doors to Götgatan 76 slid aside and let her in, it was a quarter past nine. Through the glass of the double doors she saw that the foyer of the Tax Office was already full of people, but she was in no hurry. She had three days to find out what she needed to know; they wouldn’t be back until Wednesday.

  She had never been here before, but where else than at the Tax Office would it be possible to get hold of someone’s tax reference? If she had that, she imagined that everything else would go more smoothly. There was Kerstin’s revelation about something troublesome in Linda’s past. A piece of information that might be both interesting and useful.

  A white notice was taped up on the glass door: ‘Please take a number for the desired category.’

  Desired category. It was probably better if she didn’t say.

  There were four alternatives: tax questions, overseas, national registration, birth certificates.

  National registration sounded good. She pressed a button for a number slip and sat down on one of the many chairs; there were fifteen numbers ahead of her. She looked around. To her left there were four computers set up, and she got up to take a closer look. Maybe it was some sort of self-service; it would be best if she didn’t have to talk to anyone. One of the computers was free, so she pulled out the chair and sat down. To her left sat a middle-aged man in a checked suit over a sloppily buttoned shirt. Papers spread out on the desk beside him. He looked as if he knew his way around.

  ‘Excuse me.’

  He stopped and looked at her.

  ‘If I have a name and address, can I find the social security number on this machine?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Go into the main register. Under the start menu.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She followed the instructions and a dialogue box came up with three choices.

  Physical woman. Physical man. Legal entity.

  Even though ‘physical woman‘ made her furious, she realised that was the category she had to search. She typed in Linda Persson and the address she had given on the day-care list: Duvnäsgatan 14, 116 34 Stockholm.

  The computer searched and got a hit.

  740317-2402.

  Hallelujah. They would be celebrating her birthday during their little love getaway too.

  Well, make sure you do celebrate.

  She wrote down the number, clicked on Clear and returned to her chair to wait.

  ‘I would like to know where this person was born. Seventy-four, zero three, seventeen, twenty-four, zero two.’

  The woman behind the window keyed it into her computer.

  ‘A Linda Persson?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Jönköping.’

  The screen was at an angle so she couldn’t read it.

  ‘What else does it say?’

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘You couldn’t give me a printout, could you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  A printer at the woman’s side spat out a sheet of paper. Eva accepted it through the open slot in the window. She thanked the woman and got up, reading.

  ‘740317-2402, K, PHOTO (6401 V3.34), Linda Ingrid Persson.’

  A bunch of indecipherable abbreviations and then more social security numbers and names. Biological mother and father with complete names and social security numbers and then one more. ‘670724-3556 Hellström, Stefan Richard. Type S.’

  The woman in the window was looking for her next client but Eva got there first.

  ‘Excuse me for asking, but what does “Type S” mean?’

  ‘Spouse.’

  A revelation that left her speechless for a moment.

  ‘So you mean this person is married?’

  The woman stuck out her hand for the paper and read.

  ‘No, civil status D, divorced sin
ce 2001.’

  She took in the information, tried to decide what it meant, whether it presented any useful possibilities. They were linked together like one big family, whether those involved liked it or not. Some divorced, some still married.

  ‘Could I get a printout of this social security number as well? Sixty-seven, zero seven, twenty-four, thirty-five, fifty-six.’

  The woman typed and another sheet of paper was handed over. Without reading it Eva headed towards the exit.

  On the way out through the automatic doors she thought she had received good value for the time spent.

  She brewed herself a cup of coffee and even whisked some hot milk into it before she sat down at the desk in his office. He had cleaned up well after himself, not one paper was lying about. She found some notes with scribbled telephone numbers, but since he had left them for her to see she knew they were useless.

  Anyway, she no longer needed his help.

  She unfolded the paper with the information on Linda’s former husband. Residence address in Varberg. Biological parents’ names and social security number, the father with a DE, and a new date following the social security number. She picked up the attached sheet with explanations of the abbreviations and saw that it meant Deceased. Under the parents was Linda’s name and the S for spouse and the same date for the divorce as on her printout. And then under her, Hellström, Johanna Rebecca. 930428-0318. DE 010715.

  A child that had died. The divorce only a few months later. Linda’s former husband had lost a child right before they got divorced.

  She stood up, feeling bad. The ache in her chest again, started as always by guilty feelings about Axel. The thought of their inability to give him a good start in life. Wondering whether something might happen to him. How would she be able to survive? She had sometimes wondered whether anyone would dare have a child if they fully understood in advance what it involved. To want the very, very best but always believe that you’re not doing enough.

  The nervousness and the guilty conscience were a constant companion to the absolutely unconditional love. She was thankful that she hadn’t known ahead of time. Axel was the greatest thing in her life; his birth had changed everything, given life new dimensions. She had learned never again to want to put herself in first place, always to be willing to subordinate herself. That is precisely what he had taught her. And yet she spent most of the hours of the day somewhere else, away from him. Despite the fact that over these past six years she’d realised how fast time passed.