‘What do you mean? Vanja who? I don’t know any Vanja.’
Maj-Britt stood silent. Sooner or later she would have to confess. Otherwise she’d have to stay there in the bathroom.
‘Maj-Britt, open this door. What the hell are you up to?’
‘Don’t swear.’
‘Why not? You’ve locked me in the goddamn bathroom!’
So far she was only angry. But when she understood that Maj-Britt was serious, an uneasiness would come creeping in. Then she would find out what it felt like. How it was to find yourself in the midst of a piercing, paralysing fear.
And to be utterly at someone else’s mercy.
‘Oh… you mean that Vanja Tyrén?’
There now.
‘Exactly. You’re a clever idiot.’
‘I don’t know her, you’re the one who does. Open the door now, Maj-Britt.’
‘You’re not getting out of there until you tell me how you know her.’
The stabbing pain in her lower back almost made her black out. Maj-Britt leaned forward in an attempt to relieve the pain. Sharp as an an icepick, it dug through layer after layer. She was breathing fast through her nose, in and out, in and out, but it refused to relent.
‘But I don’t know Vanja Tyrén. How would I know her? She’s in prison.’
She needed a chair. Maybe it would get a little better if she could only sit down.
‘What’s this all about? Did she say we know each other, or what? If she did, she’s lying.’
The closest chair was in the kitchen, but then she’d have to leave the door, and she couldn’t do that.
‘Come on, Maj-Britt, let me out and then we can talk about this, otherwise I’ll call security.’
Maj-Britt swallowed. It was hard to speak when it hurt so much.
‘Go ahead. Can you reach your jacket out in the hall?’
It was silent on the other side of the door.
Maj-Britt could feel her eyes filling with tears, and she pressed her hand against the point where the pain had gathered. She needed to empty her bladder. Nothing ever went the way she wanted. Everything was always against her. This wasn’t such a great idea after all. She realised it now, but there was nothing to be done about it. Ellinor was locked in the bathroom and if Maj-Britt didn’t find out now then she never would. The probability that Ellinor would come back after this was nil. Maj-Britt would be left not knowing, and some other repulsive little person would show up with her buckets and contemptuous looks.
All these choices. Some made so quickly that it was impossible to comprehend that their results could be so crucial. But afterwards they sat there like big red blots. As clearly as road-signs they marked the route through the past. Here’s where you turned off. Here’s where it all began, everything that came afterwards.
But it never worked to go back the same way. That was the problem. It was a one-way path.
He stood there with his hoe and the woven basket next to him, trimming the garden path. It didn’t look like it really needed it, but that had never made any difference. It was the joy of doing the task that was the goal. Maj-Britt knew that because they had told her. But she also knew that it was important for the garden to be perfect, and that wasn’t something they needed to say. It was important to be exacting about everything that was visible. Everything that was seen outwardly. You were responsible for the unseen yourself, and there the Lord was the absolute judge.
Her father stopped hoeing when she opened the gate. She took off her cap and brushed back her hair from her high forehead.
‘How did the practice go?’
She had been to choir practice. In any case that was what they believed. For a year there had often been extra choir practice at the oddest times, but now her double life had become a strain. Continuing to hide the truth began to feel impossible. To keep sneaking around with the love she felt. She was nineteen and had made her decision. For months she had been gathering her courage, with Göran supporting her. Today they would lay all their cards on the table, but until that moment he stood out of sight a short distance away.
She looked around the garden and then caught sight of her mother. She was down on her hands and knees by the flowerbed outside the kitchen window.
‘Father, there’s something I need to discuss with you. You and Mother.’
Instantly, her father got a worried furrow between his eyebrows. This had never happened before. That she took the initiative for a conversation.
‘Nothing’s happened, I hope?’
‘Nothing dangerous that you have to worry about, but I have to tell you something. Could we go inside for a bit?’
Her father looked at the gravel path at his feet. He wasn’t really finished yet, and he hated to interrupt a task before it was completed. She knew that. She also knew that this wasn’t the best situation for the conversation that was to come, but Göran was standing out there on the road and she had promised. Promised to give them finally the opportunity to create a life together. A real life.
‘Go on inside. I just have to get someone I want you to meet.’
Her father looked at once through the gate. She saw it in his eyes. Would have known it even if her eyes had been closed.
‘Do you have guests with you now? Because we’re busy…’
He looked down at his work clothes and ran his hands over them hastily as if that would make them cleaner. And she was already regretting it. Bringing home guests without letting her parents prepare themselves was against the unwritten rules of their home. This had turned out all wrong. She had let herself be talked into something that was bound to fail. Göran had such a hard time understanding how it was. Everything was so different in his own family.
‘Inga, Maj-Britt has a guest with her.’
Her mother stopped weeding the flowerbed at once and stood up.
‘A guest? What sort of guest?’
Maj-Britt smiled and tried to radiate a calm that she didn’t feel.
‘If you just go on in we’ll be there in… Is fifteen minutes all right? And you don’t have to make coffee or anything, I just want to introduce…’
She had intended to say ‘him’ but wanted to wait with that. Things were bad enough already. Her mother didn’t reply. Just brushed off the worst of the dirt from her trouser legs and hurried in through the kitchen door. Her father picked up the basket and hoe to put them back in the shed. It was obvious. He was already annoyed at being interrupted. He looked around when he crossed the lawn to make sure that nothing else was lying outside making a mess.
‘You could bring in Mother’s tools over there.’
It was not merely a suggestion, and she did as he said.
They stopped on the steps for a minute and held hands. Göran’s hand was damp, which was unusual.
‘Everything will be fine. By the way, I promised my mother we’d ask if they’d like to come over for coffee someday so that they can finally meet. Remind me, so I don’t forget to say it.’
Everything was so easy for Göran. And soon it would be for her too.
She put her hand on the doorknob and knew that now was the time. It was now or never.
She had made up her mind.
No one met them in the hall. They hung up their jackets and heard the water running in the kitchen and then the slapping sound of someone wearing thin-soled shoes approaching. Her mother appeared in the doorway. She was wearing her flowered dress and her black shoes that she only wore on special occasions. And for a moment Maj-Britt thought they might understand what a solemn occasion this was. That they were doing it for her sake.
Her mother smiled and held out her hand to Göran.
‘Welcome.’
‘This is my mother, Inga, and this is Göran.’
They shook hands and her mother’s smile grew wider.
‘It’s nice of Maj-Britt to bring one of her friends home, but you really must excuse us for not preparing anything. I had to fix something from what we have.’