Betrayal Read online

  He pulled over the bed table on wheels and turned on the radio. The Metropolitan Mix. He was sure that somewhere inside behind her closed eyes she could hear the music he played for her. And he didn’t want her to miss out on anything. So that on the day she woke up she would recognise all the new songs that had come out. Since the accident.

  He took the skin lotion out of the bedside table, drew a white stripe along her left leg and began to massage it. With even strokes he worked up from the calf, across the knee, and further towards the groin.

  ‘Today it was really fine weather outside. I took a walk down to Årstaviken and sat for a while in the sun by the boat club, there on our wharf.’

  He carefully lifted her leg, put one hand behind her knee and bent it cautiously several times.

  ‘Good, Anna . . . Just think, later when you get well we can go down there together again. Take some coffee with us and a blanket and just sit there in the sun.’

  He straightened out her leg and placed it on the sheet.

  ‘And all your potted plants are fine; the hibiscus has even started to bloom again.’

  He rolled down the bed rails to reach her right hand. The fingers on her left hand had stiffened into a claw, and every day he checked the right one carefully to make sure it hadn’t done the same. So that she would be able to continue painting her pictures when she woke up.

  He turned off the radio and began to get undressed.

  The calm he had longed for began to spread through him. A whole night’s sleep.

  Nowhere else but here with Anna did the compulsion vanish completely and leave his thoughts in peace. His sanctuary, where he was finally allowed to rest.

  Only Anna was strong enough to make him dare resist. With her he felt safe.

  Alone he didn’t have a chance.

  He was only allowed to sleep here once a week, and he had had to nag them about it. Sometimes he was afraid that the privilege would be taken away from him, even though it was no extra trouble for the staff. The new ones especially, like the nurse tonight, seemed to think it was odd. It bothered him a little; was it so strange that they wanted to sleep together? Good Lord, they loved each other, after all.

  In any case, he didn’t care what they thought.

  He thought about the conversation he would have with Dr Sahlstedt in the morning and hoped that it wasn’t about the nights he slept with Anna. If they were taken away he would be lost.

  He folded his jeans and T-shirt and put them in a neat stack on the visitor’s chair. Then he clicked off the bed lamp. The sound of the respirator was more noticeable in the dark. Calm, regular breaths. Like a faithful friend in the dark.

  He lay down cautiously beside her, pulled the covers over them, and cupped his hand over one breast.

  ‘Good night, my darling.’

  Gently he pressed his crotch against her left thigh and felt the preposterous arousal.

  He wanted only one thing.

  Only one.

  That she would wake up and touch him. Take hold of him. And afterwards she would hold him tight and tell him that he never had to be alone again. That he didn’t have to be afraid any more.

  He would never leave her.

  Never ever.

  Axel seemed to know something was wrong. As if the words they had said the night before had polluted the air. They floated like an evil-smelling menace in the house and made her lose her courage as soon as he refused to put on the striped T-shirt.

  She had to pull herself together. Not lose control. He hadn’t actually said he wanted a divorce, after all, he hadn’t done that. Just that he didn’t think they had fun any more.

  She hadn’t been able to sleep. She lay wide awake and listened to his fingers tapping on the keyboard in the office, sometimes hesitant, sometimes determined. How could he just sit down and work? She wondered what kind of article he was writing and realised that she had no idea. It had been a long time since they had talked about his work. As long as he sent out invoices and money came in so she could pay the bills, there hadn’t seemed to be any reason.

  Always so pressed for time.

  For a while she had thought about going in to him and asking, but then she changed her mind. He was the one who should come to her.

  Not until around three o’clock did she hear the bedroom door being carefully opened, and he slipped into his side of the double bed.

  Axel like a defensive wall between them.

  There were only a few minutes left until the meeting as she parked outside the day-care centre. Axel was still in a bad mood, even though she tried to divert his attention as best she could during the drive over. It would be terrible when she left. Axel’s sobbing face behind the window-pane.

  How could she cope with that today?

  She ran into Daniel’s father on the way in.

  ‘Hi, Eva, great to see you, I was going to call you two today. We’re having that dinner party on the 27th like we said. Can you still come?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  He glanced quickly at his watch and kept talking as he backed towards his car.

  ‘We were thinking of inviting the couple that just moved in down the street as well; you know, the house where that old couple used to live. I don’t remember their names.’

  ‘I know who you mean. So someone has moved into the place now?’

  ‘Yes, and I think they have kids the same age as ours, so we thought we’d do something neighbourly right away. It’s good to have some place within crawling distance when you go out for dinner.’

  He laughed at his own joke and took another look at his watch.

  ‘Damn. I’ve got to be at a meeting on Kungsholmen in fifteen minutes. Why can’t they ever start half an hour later?’

  He gave a deep sigh.

  ‘Well, then. Say hi to the family.’

  He got into his car and she pulled open the door for Axel.

  It was always such a rush. Kids who’d just woken up and stressed-out parents who even before they made it to work were worrying about everything they wouldn’t have a chance to get done before they had to rush back and pick up their kids on time. Everyone always in a breathless race, with the clock as their worst enemy.

  Was it really supposed to be like this?

  They walked through the doors and Kerstin came out from the play-room to meet them.

  ‘Hi Axel. Hi Eva.’

  ‘Hi.’

  Axel didn’t reply but turned his back and stood there with his forehead pressed against the cabinet. She was grateful that it was Kerstin who greeted her today, because she was the one on the staff she knew best. Since Axel’s first day five years ago, Kerstin had worked as both day-care teacher and director, with an enthusiasm for her work that never flagged. Driven by devotion, as if she could change the world by constantly reminding the children in her care about the importance of empathy and what was right and wrong. Eva was full of admiration and had often been amazed at Kerstin’s energy, especially in view of how exhausted she often felt herself. But on the other hand, Kerstin’s own children were in their twenties, so maybe that was the difference.

  The clock was her worst enemy.

  She remembered her involvement as the head of the student council in high school; Greenpeace, Amnesty, the burning will to change things. And she remembered how it felt when she still had the conviction that what was wrong could be fixed, injustices could cease, and if she only put in enough time and energy then the world could be changed. Back then her outrage over the unjust imprisonment of a person on the other side of the globe would make her start petition drives and organise demonstrations. Now that she was grown up and really could do something, she was grateful if she managed to get to a day-care parents’ meeting that affected her own son. The desire to change the world had been precipitately transformed into a hope that there would be enough hours in the day – her outrage into a deep sigh and some guilty spare change in the Red Cross collection box at the grocery store. All to silence her guilty
conscience. Always new decisions to make. What telephone plan to sign up with, which electrical company would be most advantageous, where to invest the pension money, which school was the best, which family doctor, the lowest interest on the mortgage. And they all affected her little world: what was best and most beneficial for her and her family. Endless decisions to make, and you still never knew if you had made the right ones. Everyone thinking of themselves first. When all mandatory decisions had been made, there was no energy left to make a stand on the issues that really should matter. The ones that could change what really should be changed. She remembered the ironic sticker she had had on her notice-board in her bedroom when she was a girl: ‘Of course I take a stand on all the injustices in the world. I’ve said ‘bloody hell’ many times!’ She would never be like that. Or so she had thought back then.

  ‘Are you angry today?’

  Axel didn’t answer Kerstin’s question, and Eva went over and squatted down by his side.

  ‘It wasn’t a good morning. Isn’t that right, Axel?’

  Filippa and her mother came in the door and Kerstin’s attention was diverted to them instead.

  Eva pulled Axel close and held him tight.

  Everything’s going to be all right. You don’t have to be afraid. I promise I’ll work this out.

  ‘Hey Axel, the meeting’s starting now, everyone else is already inside. Come on, let’s go in. Today it’s your turn to get the fruit from the kitchen.’

  Kerstin reached out her hand to him, and he finally gave in, went over to his corner and hung up his jacket. Eva stood up.

  ‘Henrik will pick him up at four.’

  Kerstin smiled and nodded, took Axel by the hand, and went into the play-room. Eva followed along behind. Actually she might be the one who was having the hardest time saying goodbye today. Axel let go of Kerstin’s hand and ran over to Linda, one of the other day-care teachers, and climbed up on her knee.

  Gratefully she felt the worst of her worries recede. It was Axel’s everyday world she saw before her, and until she fixed all the problems at least he was having a good time here. Linda stroked Axel’s hair and gave her a quick smile.

  Eva smiled back.

  Here he was safe.

  Jonas got to his appointment with Dr Sahlstedt early. He had been waiting for more than fifteen minutes when the doctor came hurrying down the corridor and opened the door to his office.

  ‘Sorry you had to wait, I had to look at a patient down in intensive care. Come in.’

  He closed the door behind them and went over to sit down at his desk.

  Jonas just stood there. Anna’s calm seemed to be blown away, the compulsion was well aware that he was defenceless now, and soon it would grow strong enough. Now he would have to pay for last night’s peace and quiet. He had felt the signals even when he was waiting in the corridor. A creeping unrest that had begun during the morning rounds. The looks from the staff over Anna’s sleeping body. No specific word, but rather a new tone of voice, a vague insinuation.

  ‘Please have a seat.’

  He felt the pressure growing, taking over bit by bit.

  Four steps forward to the visitor’s chair. Not three or five. Or else he would have to go back to the door and start over. Three and five had to be avoided at all costs.

  Without touching the chair’s armrest he sat down and followed Sahlstedt’s hand with his gaze, the way it pulled over a brown folder but then rested on the closed casebook.

  Dr Sahlstedt looked at him in silence.

  Was it really four steps he had taken? He was no longer sure. Good Lord. Alingsås to Arjeplog 1179 kilometres, Arboga to Arlanda 144, Arvidsjaur to Borlänge 787.

  ‘How are you doing?’

  The unexpected question took him by surprise. He knew that the compulsion couldn’t be seen on the surface. After all these years he had developed an exceptional ability to conceal his inner inferno.

  As well as the shame over his weakness at not being able to control it.

  ‘Fine, thank you.’

  Silence. If it was true that the doctor facing him actually was interested in the state of his health, then it was obvious that the reply had not satisfied him. There was a grave look in his eyes. An ominous gravity that made it clear that the conversation they were going to have was something more than just a normal report.

  Jonas shifted his position in the chair. Don’t touch the armrests.

  ‘How old are you, Jonas?’

  He swallowed. Not five. Not even with a two in front of it.

  ‘I’ll be twenty-six next year. Why do you ask? I thought we were going to talk about Anna.’

  Dr Sahlstedt regarded him and then looked down at the table.

  ‘It’s not about Anna any longer. It’s about you.’

  Borlänge to Boden 848, Borås to Båstad 177.

  ‘What . . . I don’t know what you mean.’

  Sahlstedt raised his eyes again.

  ‘What kind of job did you have? Before all this happened, I mean.’

  ‘I was a postman.’

  He nodded with interest.

  ‘I see. Do you ever miss your colleagues from work?’

  Was he toying with him? Or maybe postmen worked in flocks in the high-class neighbourhood where he imagined Dr Sahlstedt lived.

  The doctor in front of him gave a little sigh when he got no answer and opened the brown casebook.

  Had he really not brushed against the armrest when he sat down? He was no longer certain. If he had, he would have to touch it again to neutralise the first time he touched it. But what if he hadn’t touched it? Good Lord, he had to neutralise it somehow.

  ‘You’ve been on sick leave for almost two and a half years now. As long as Anna has been here.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why is that, actually?’

  ‘What do you think? So I can be here with Anna, of course.’

  ‘Anna can get along here without you. The staff will take care of her.’

  ‘You know as well as I do that they don’t have time to work with her as much as necessary.’

  Dr Sahlstedt suddenly looked sad; he sat quietly and looked down at his hands. The silence was about to drive Jonas crazy. With all his might he tried to resist the compulsion’s rage which was going berserk inside his body.

  The doctor looked up at him again.

  ‘Necessary for what, Jonas?’

  He couldn’t answer. The wash basin was on the wall to his left. He had to go and wash his hands. Had to wash away the touch if he had indeed happened to touch the armrest.

  ‘As you know, the fever is not going down, and we did a new EKG yesterday. The infection in the aortic valve is not subsiding. At regular intervals it’s releasing small septic embolisms, small particles, one might say, filled with bacteria. These bacteria go straight up to her brain stem, and that’s why she continues to be struck by new blood clots in the brain.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘This is the third clot she has had in two months. And with each new one her level of consciousness drops.’

  He had heard things like this before. The doctors always told him the worst so as not to give him false hopes.

  ‘You have to try and accept that she will never wake up from her coma.’

  He could no longer fight it, and he stood up and went over to the wash basin.

  Four steps. Not three.

  He had to wash his hands.

  ‘There is nothing more we can do to help her. Deep inside you know that too, don’t you?’

  He let the water run over his hands. Closed his eyes and felt the relief when the pressure eased.

  ‘You have to start to let go now. Try to move on.’

  ‘She reacted when I massaged her this morning.’

  Dr Sahlstedt sighed behind his back.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jonas. I know how hard you’ve struggled to help her, and we all have. But it could be a matter of weeks or months now, we don’t know. In the worst case she could remain like t
his for another year.’

  In the worst case.

  He let the water run. Stood with his back to the man who claimed to be Anna’s doctor. Ignorant idiot. How could he claim to know what was moving inside her? How many times had he massaged her legs? Sat next to her and tried to straighten out her crooked fingers? Brought her perfume and fruit to keep her sense of smell alive? Never. The only thing he had done was to hook up some wires to her skull, press a button, and then draw the conclusion that she was incapable of feeling anything.

  ‘Why does she react then?’

  Dr Sahlstedt sat in silence for a moment.

  ‘I’ve been trying for a long time to get you to talk with some of our . . . some of my colleagues here at the Karolinska Institute, but . . . now I’ve actually taken the liberty of making an appointment for you. I’m convinced that it could help you get through this. You have your whole life ahead of you, Jonas. I don’t think that Anna would want you to spend it here at the hospital.’

  The sudden fury came like a liberator. The compulsion died down and retreated to the side.

  He shut off the tap, took two paper towels, and turned around.

  ‘You just said that she couldn’t feel anything. Then why would she care about that?’

  Dr Sahlstedt sat utterly still. A sudden beep from his breast pocket broke the silence.

  ‘I have to go. We’ll talk more another day. You have an appointment with Yvonne Palmgren tomorrow morning at 8.15.’

  He tore off a yellow Post-It note from the pad and held it out to him. Jonas stood motionless.

  ‘Jonas, it’s for your own good. Maybe it’s time you started thinking a little about yourself.’

  Dr Sahlstedt gave up and stuck the note on the desk top before he went out the door. Jonas just stood there. Talk to a psychiatrist! What about? She would try to get into his thoughts, and why should he permit that? He’d been so successful at keeping everyone away from them up till now.

  Anna was the only one he had let in.