Betrayal

by Karin Alvtegen

  And now Henrik intended to see to it that she lost half of what was left. Force her to be an every-other-week mother without giving her the slightest opportunity to choose for herself.

  She went to the kitchen and drank some water and then sat down in front of the computer again.

  She logged in and clicked onto Google’s search site. Searched for Linda’s name and got 1,390 hits. She skipped over all the doctoral candidates at the institute of geotechnics and other home pages that definitely had nothing to do with the Linda she was after, but finally had to give up. She added ‘+Varberg’, which gave her information on the results in women’s football in division 2 and a complete employee database of the Swedish Municipality Association; neither of those seemed especially relevant. Adding ‘+Jönköping’ produced equally uninteresting results. Linda’s exhusband’s name had some hits on lists of results in orienteering competitions, and one hit on a car rental company in Skellefteå, neither of which filled her with much enthusiasm.

  She picked up her coffee cup and went into the living room, looking out at the garden through the picture window. How would it feel to keep living here alone with Axel? Would she be able to cope with doing everything herself? And then the next question, more of a realisation: would there actually be any big difference?

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw something move in the corner of the yard, close to where the common began. The deer were certainly getting bolder. Soon she would have to start locking the doors to keep them out of the house.

  She walked by the dishwasher on her way back and put in her empty coffee cup, then went and sat at the computer again and read one more time the names on the two printouts from the Tax Authority.

  Hellström, Johanna Rebecca.

  Eight years and three months she had lived.

  She had a bright idea and typed in ‘+Varberg’.

  One hit.

  Evening News: ‘Father accuses ex-wife of daughter’s death.’

  She raised her eyes and stared out the window in front of her.

  Then she returned to the screen and clicked on the link to the article.

  A photo of a gravestone and a man standing in front of it with his back to the camera.

  Our beloved daughter

  Rebecca Hellström * 1993 † 2001

  And then the caption: ‘She’s lying.’ The father of drowning victim Rebecca Hellström is full of sorrow and bitterness. ‘I know that the accident could have been prevented.’

  She raised her eyes and stared out the window again. She tried to identify what she was feeling. She had found what she was looking for – no, more than that – but instead of celebrating she was briefly able to take a step back from all the blackness inside her and observe herself sitting in front of the computer. As if a remnant of the old Eva deep inside demanded to make herself heard, tried to warn her.

  Think carefully now.

  She looked at the screen again.

  If you make your bed, you’ll have to lie in it.

  She got up and went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, then closed it again without remembering what she was looking for.

  Then she picked up the cordless phone from the kitchen counter and called Enquiries.

  ‘I’m looking for the number of Varberg District Court. Could you please connect me.’

  The sound of keys clacking and then the ringing tones.

  ‘Varberg District Court, Marie-Louise Johannes-son.’

  ‘Hello, my name is Eva. I’d like to check on the verdict in a trial that took place in November of 2001.’

  ‘What’s the case number?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I’ll need that to be able to find the court disposition.’

  ‘How would I find it?’

  ‘What type of case was it?’

  ‘A drowning accident. An eight-year-old girl who drowned, and the woman accused was married to the father.’

  ‘Oh, that one. She was acquitted, I can remember that verdict without a case number.’

  ‘Never mind, then. So she was acquitted?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thanks a lot.’

  She put down the phone on the counter and opened the refrigerator one more time without knowing why, closed it and met Axel’s gaze from the photo that was hung up with one of his refrigerator magnets made of magic clay. She remembered that he said it was supposed to be a dinosaur, and it did look like one.

  Blue, innocent eyes that believed everything they saw.

  Convinced that everyone was good and utterly trusting that they meant what they said. Such as his beloved day-care teacher. Whom he trusted blindly and who looked after his welfare in the daytime but who in actuality was about to destroy his world.

  The probability that Henrik was right now planning to make her Axel’s new part-time mother effectively slammed the door on the soul-searching that had suddenly overcome her. Never in her life! It wasn’t enough that he was going to rob her of half of Axel’s childhood without her having the least say in the matter; on top of all that she would be forced to agree to let Axel live every other week under the same roof as her. Never! If Henrik intended to live with that woman, then by God she would get sole custody.

  Was there any parent who would want to turn over responsibility for their child to such a person? Would the other parents in the day-care group think it was suitable to have a teacher who was accused of causing the death of an eight-year-old because she would rather talk on the phone?

  She realised that this was an interesting thought, and something that she ought to explore.

  With her gaze fixed on Axel’s eyes she made her decision.

  Made her choice.

  All she had to do was write the name ‘Linda’ as a note of explanation at the top of the paper when she printed out the article. Then she stuffed it in an anonymous envelope, looked at the day-care list, and addressed it to Simon’s already enraged mother.

  A year.

  The mere thought was like a punch in the stomach. Each time the thought recurred its effect penetrated even deeper. During their holiday last summer when they drove to Italy. During all the dinners together with their friends. When he accompanied her to London on that business trip and they had made love. Both before and after that, that motherfucker had been there. Making him look like a bungler who was completely inadequate. A mediocre husband who could simply be exchanged and replaced by anyone.

  He was sitting on the built-in sofa attached to the wall and looking out the porthole of the luxury cabin. The quay at Nyckelviken slipped by, and Nicke and Nocke towered above the horizon like twin exclamation points over all that meant home.

  His bag stood unopened on the floor. From the bathroom he could hear her moving about, how her hand kept rummaging at regular intervals amongst all the necessities she had brought along.

  A year.

  I’m in love with your wife, and she’s in love with me.

  The bathroom door opened, and she stood expectantly just outside the threshold. He registered that she had on a thin, light-yellow silk dressing gown and that her hair was done in a way he had never seen before.

  He returned to the view out the porthole.

  For his sake we have tried to break this off several times, but . . . We just can’t live without each other.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw her go over to her opened suitcase on the bed.

  ‘Did you call for more towels yet?’

  Her tone was brusque and irritated.

  He turned his head and looked at her again.

  ‘No.’

  It hadn’t been a conscious choice. Of course, they had ascertained when they came in that more were needed, but out of well ingrained habit he had waited for her to take the initiative. She was the one who would ring and arrange it.

  Just as she always did.

  For the first time it struck him with undeniable force how all the years with Eva had marked him. How restful it had been to be able to h
ide behind her energy. And it suddenly occurred to him how paralysingly threatening it felt to be forced to let go and leave behind everything he was accustomed to. Who was he then, without all that?

  ‘Are you going to do it?’

  He fell back to reality from the sting in her voice.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ring for more towels. Or shall I do it myself?’

  ‘No, I can ring if you like.’

  He braced his hands on his thighs as he stood up, went over to the little desk and began listlessly leafing through one of the shipping company’s brochures.

  Perfect in every way. Well, you know what I mean.

  What a fucking bastard.

  He put down the brochure, no longer sure of what he was looking for, and returned to the porthole. Nicke and Nocke had vanished from the view provided by the thick armoured glass. He closed his eyes in an attempt to conquer the desire to go out on deck and into the fresh air to see whether they were still in sight.

  When he turned round she had put the suitcase on the floor and sat curled up on the bed with her back leaning against the veneered headboard. Her nipples were clearly visible under the thin silk gown and signalled that she had taken off her underwear. In her hand she held a tax-free catalogue, but he could see that she wasn’t reading it. She had purposefully fixed her gaze on it to emphasise her disappointment over his lack of attention and interest.

  At once he realised what was expected of him, but he also knew it was impossible. All the desire that a few hours ago was driving him insane had run out of him like paraffin from a leaky can. What was still flammable had remained on the floor inside the doors of the Viking Line terminal at Stadsgården.

  How in hell would he be able to stand a whole day locked in a cabin out on the open sea? Not to mention the hotel visit in picturesque Nådendal which was included in the ticket price for their Romantic Crossing. As soon as they reached the cabin she had already playfully held up two packets of newly purchased Cho-San condoms. ‘You can’t get any closer than that’, as their slogan said.

  She was so adamant that they make all the important decisions, plan for the future, finally decide.

  But he had suddenly discovered that he didn’t know a thing. Not even what alternatives he had to choose from.

  With a sudden movement she put down the tax-free catalogue and crossed her arms over her chest in an irritated gesture.

  ‘Don’t you feel well?’

  Her tone clearly showed that the question was not asked out of concern but as an accusation.

  ‘I suppose I’m all right.’

  ‘Suppose?’

  Like a stab, and the acid in her voice was still there.

  ‘What is it then? I thought we were going to make sure we had some fun on this trip.’

  In annoyance she tucked back a long blonde ringlet behind her ear and folded her arms across her chest again. The silk gown parted with her movements, showing her cleavage. He noted that it didn’t help matters either, but suddenly it felt intolerable not to be able to talk to her about how he felt. He was used to sharing all his thoughts with her. She had been his sanctuary from gloominess. The silver lining. The excitement. The two of them, sharing endless, secret conversations with constantly new, unexplored sidetracks. She always managed to make him feel good, make it worthwhile. The laughter that was so easy to find, her hand that suddenly and unexpectedly touched him where he least expected it, that had wanted to touch him.

  The way Eva never did.

  So many abandoned urges and needs that she had satisfied when she stormed into his life. Like a dried-up sponge he had soaked up her attention.

  Where and when had he and Eva begun to forget? Stopped making an effort and begun to neglect what they had. Once Eva must have been all that he now thought he had found in Linda. Or had she? Had he really ever felt the same way towards her? If so, when did they pass that moment that was the turning point, started moving in reverse? Or perhaps not in reverse, but towards indifference. And if that was the case, had he really arrived at that state of indifference? If he had, how could it be so utterly excruciating to imagine her with another man? Was it merely an escape he had been pursuing? Aside from the disappointment over the fact that she may never have loved him completely and truly, never been filled with dread at the thought of losing him. Merely continued living with him out of duty and consideration. The thought was insufferable. He desperately tried to mobilise a sense of rage to hide behind, but all he found was panic over the fact that everything was starting to crumble, fall apart around him. He looked at Linda and suddenly he wanted her to hold him, understand how much the betrayal hurt, how afraid he was. More than anything else just now, he needed her sympathy.

  With a deep sigh he sank down on the built-in sofa again.

  ‘Eva has someone else.’

  Her arms that were crossed so tightly over her chest fell to her lap as if they were suddenly liberated from a painful straitjacket. The look of displeasure on her face dissolved in a single breath.

  ‘But Henrik, that’s perfect, that solves everything!’

  At first he didn’t hear what she said. He heard the words, but for the life of him he couldn’t understand what they could possibly mean.

  Her face radiated true joy. As if she had just opened a package and found what she always wanted but never thought she would receive.

  ‘I mean, we don’t have to hide any longer. If she already has someone else, then we all get what we want.’

  ‘But apparently it’s been going on for a whole year.’

  It was obviously almost too good to be true. She beamed with sheer happiness, having resolved the entire situation in just a couple of sentences.

  ‘This is totally incredible. And here you were feeling so guilty about Axel, for being the one who’s breaking up the family. Don’t you realise what this means? She’s the one, not you, who has made sure there will be a divorce. She was unfaithful even before we met.’

  And then to top it off, jubilation at the splendour of life.

  ‘You’re finally free!’

  And he knew instantly that she would never understand.

  And he would never be able to explain it.

  There was another man who had stolen his place. A man Eva chose above him, someone she thought was more attractive, more exciting, more intelligent, worth more.

  Someone better.

  A man who for a whole year had gone around knowing that he was superior to him, had heard things about him and it had all been to his disadvantage, poor Henrik who wasn’t good enough, who didn’t have anything more to offer. He had been outwitted. That coward had sneaked around behind the scenes of his life without daring to show himself, but all the time he had enjoyed complete insight into and control over Henrik’s life. Pulled the strings a bit here and there while Henrik ran around like an idiot, humiliating himself in full view.

  His sudden anger demanded that he stand up.

  ‘But don’t you get what I’m saying? This isn’t about any bloody guilt feelings. She’s been going behind my back for a whole fucking year. A whole year! Screwing some fucking toyboy without saying a thing.’

  His unexpected emotional outburst made her fall silent in astonishment, and the pause was long enough for him to regret his words. A conflict was the last thing he wanted.

  Or dared.

  With a furious movement she drew her gown together at the neck.

  ‘And what about you? What have you been doing the past seven months?’

  Yes. What could he say? To be quite honest, he no longer had any idea.

  ‘But there’s obviously a small difference. I’m at least a fucking twenty-nine-year-old.’

  He sank back down on the sofa.

  ‘Stop it.’

  ‘What do you want me to say?’

  He had no idea. So he sat in silence, letting the thudding, dull sounds of the motors from the vessel’s engine room merge with his confusion.

  ‘Maybe you want
me to comfort you in some way?’

  I’m in love with your wife, and she’s in love with me.

  ‘You have to excuse me, but I just don’t feel like it. And to tell you the truth, I don’t really understand why there should be any reason, at least not unless you’ve been lying to me the whole time.’

  She got off the bed and put on a jumper from her suitcase. Hasty movements, as if she wanted to get out of there as quickly as he did. As she walked towards the bathroom he saw her run her hand over her left cheek. So much she had believed and hoped. And so much he had wanted and promised. A wave of tenderness passed through him. Above all else he didn’t want to hurt her. She deserved a little happiness after all she had been through, but to his amazement he discovered that he wasn’t ready for her dreams.

  She stopped outside the bathroom door but didn’t look at him.

  ‘I’ll take the ferry back from Åbo tonight.’

  Then she stepped through the doorway and closed the door carefully behind her.

  At the day-care centre there was no visible trace of Sunday’s meeting. Kerstin had seen to it that everything should be as normal as possible, and she stopped Eva on her way out the door to thank her once again for her efforts, for managing to quell the angry feelings and preventing the meeting from degenerating. And Eva had smiled self-consciously and assured her that she had only done what felt right and proper.

  Axel was sitting in the back seat. She hadn’t told her parents why she was stopping by. That it wasn’t just to have coffee. She hadn’t revealed that the real reason was that she needed to borrow some money. A lot of money. And the thought that she would have to tell them all about what was going on, that Henrik was about to leave her for another woman, filled her with deep shame.

  ‘Mamma, look at what I got today.’

  She cast a glance in the rear view mirror and saw something brown and red in Axel’s hand.