This came as a relief to Birgitta.
‘I don’t understand it myself,’ she said. ‘I don’t understand why I concealed half the story. Perhaps because you were too busy with your First Dynasty. Perhaps because I didn’t even really understand what had happened.’
They kept walking and took off their jackets when the sun started to warm up. Birgitta told her about the photograph taken by the surveillance camera in the little hotel in Hudiksvall and her attempt to track down the man on the film. She explained it in precise detail, as if she were in the witness box under the watchful eye of a judge.
‘You didn’t say anything about that,’ said Karin when Birgitta came to the crucial point. They had turned and started to walk back.
‘When you left I was scared,’ said Birgitta. ‘I thought I might rot away in some underground dungeon. And afterwards the police would simply say that I’d disappeared.’
‘I take that as a lack of confidence in me. I should be angry with you.’
Birgitta stopped and turned to confront Karin.
‘We don’t know each other all that well,’ she said. ‘Maybe we think we do. Or wish we did. When we were young our relationship was quite different from what it is now. We’re friends. But we’re not that close. Perhaps we never have been.’
Karin nodded. They continued walking along the beach, where the sand was driest, higher up than the seaweed.
‘You always want things to stay the same, for everything to be just as it used to be,’ said Karin. ‘But as you get older you have to be careful to avoid sentimentality. If friendships are going to last, they have to keep being re-examined and renewed. Maybe old love never goes rusty. But old friendships do.’
‘The fact that we’re talking about it is a step in the right direction. It’s like scraping away the rust with a steel brush.’
‘What happened next? How did it all end?’
‘I went home. The police, or some branch of the secret service, had searched my room. I have no idea what they hoped to find.’
‘But you must have wondered. A mugging?’
‘It’s all about the photograph from the hotel in Hudiksvall, of course. Somebody wanted to prevent me from looking for that man. But I think Hong Qiu was telling the truth. China doesn’t want foreign visitors to go back home and talk about so-called unfortunate incidents. Not now, when the country is preparing for the Olympic Games.’
‘A whole country with more than a billion inhabitants waiting in the wings to make its brilliant entry onto the world stage. A remarkable thought.’
‘Hundreds of millions of people, our beloved poor peasants, probably don’t realise what these Olympics mean. Or else they realise that nothing will get better for them simply because the young people of the world are gathering in Beijing to play games.’
‘I have a vague memory of her — that woman called Hong Qiu. She was very beautiful. There was something evasive about her, as if she were on edge.’
‘Could be. I remember her differently. She helped me.’
‘Was she the servant of several masters?’
‘That’s something I’ve thought a lot about. I don’t know. But you’re probably right.’
They walked out onto a jetty. Several of the mooring berths were empty. A woman was squatting in an old wooden boat, bailing out. She nodded to them with a smile and said something in a dialect Karin couldn’t understand.
Afterwards they drank coffee in Karin’s living room. Karin talked about her current work, studying several Chinese poets and their work from liberation in 1949 to the present day.
‘I can’t devote my whole life to empires that died long ago. The poems make a pleasant change.’
Birgitta came close to mentioning her own secret and impassioned pop lyrics, but said nothing.
‘Many of them were courageous,’ said Karin. ‘Mao and the rest at the top of the political tree were rarely tolerant of criticism. But Mao tolerated the poets. I suppose you could say that was because he wrote poetry himself. But I think he knew that artists could show the big political stage in a new light. When other political leaders wanted to clamp down on artists who wrote the wrong words or painted with dodgy brushstrokes, Mao always put his foot down and stopped them. To the bitter end. What happened to artists during the Cultural Revolution was of course his responsibility, but not his intention. Even if the last revolution he set in motion had cultural overtones, it was basically political. When Mao realised that some of the young rebels were going too far, he slammed on the brakes. Even if he couldn’t express it in so many words, I think he regretted the havoc caused during those years. But he knew better than anybody else that if you want to make an omelette, you have to break an egg. Isn’t that what people used to say?’
‘Or that the revolution wasn’t a tea party.’
They both burst out laughing.
‘What do you think about China now?’ asked Birgitta. ‘What exactly is going on there?’
‘I’m convinced there’s a tremendous tug of war. Within the party, within the country. The Communist Party is trying to show the rest of the world, people like you and me, that it’s possible to combine economic development with a state that isn’t democratic. Even if all the liberal thinkers in the West deny it, a one-party dictatorship is reconcilable with economic development. That causes unrest in our part of the world. That’s why so much is spoken and written about human rights in China. The lack of freedom and transparency, the human rights so central to Western values, become the target of Western attacks on China. For me it’s hypocritical, since our part of the world is full of countries — not least the United States and Russia — in which human rights are violated every day. Besides, the Chinese know that we want to do business with them, at any price. They saw through us in the nineteenth century when we decided to brand them all as opium addicts and award ourselves the right to do business with them on our terms. The Chinese have learned lessons, and they won’t repeat our mistakes. That’s the way I see things, and obviously, I’m aware that my conclusions aren’t perfect. What’s happening is much bigger than anything I can take in. We can’t apply our way of looking at things to China. But no matter what we think about it, we have to respect what’s going on. Nowadays only an idiot would think that what’s happening there won’t affect our own future. If I had small children today I’d employ a Chinese nanny to make sure they become acquainted with the Chinese language.’
‘That’s exactly what my son says.’
‘He has vision.’
‘I was overwhelmed by the visit to China,’ said Birgitta. ‘The country is so enormous, I wandered around with the constant feeling that I could just disappear at any moment. And nobody would ask questions about one individual when there are so incredibly many others. I wish I’d had more time to talk to Hong Qiu.’
That evening they had dinner and once more immersed themselves in memories of the past. Birgitta felt increasingly strongly that she didn’t want to lose contact with Karin again. There was nobody else with whom she had shared her youth, nobody who could understand what she was talking about.
They sat up until late, and before going to bed promised themselves that in the future they would meet more often.
‘Commit some minor traffic offence in Helsingborg,’ Birgitta suggested. ‘Don’t admit anything when the police interview you at the scene. Then you’ll eventually end up in the dock. When I’ve sentenced you we can go and have dinner somewhere.’