Cinderella Girl (4 page)

Hanna stayed in bed for a long, long time, waiting for the familiar sounds. Even though the blinds were down it was completely light in the room. She didn’t feel tired at all, but she tried to go back to sleep anyway. Mummy said that if she woke up before anyone else, she had to stay in bed and try to fall asleep again. But now she just couldn’t stay in bed any longer. She decided she had to get up and play, no matter what, with the door closed. She crept out of bed and took down a puzzle from the shelf. She chose the green box with Pooh on the lid, opened it and scattered the pieces on her little table. The table was red with yellow chairs. Daddy and Hanna had painted the furniture together, but Mummy had painted the blue flowers on the seats with a very small brush.

When she finished the Pooh puzzle she prepared some make-believe food on her stove. In the oven she found a battery-powered mixer and whipped a little cream for Magdalena, the brown-eyed doll with long, dark, flowing hair and a pink dress. The mixer buzzed loudly, and she suddenly thought that maybe the noise had wakened the others. But it was still just as silent in the apartment.

Her nappy was heavy after the night and was hanging uncomfortably under her red and white striped nightie. Her stomach was also starting to rumble, even though she usually didn’t care much for breakfast. What could she do
to wake Mummy without getting yelled at? If she screamed, maybe … that she’d had a horrible nightmare …

‘Mummy, Mummy!’ she called. ‘Mummy, come here! Help!’

Nothing happened. Hanna opened the door a little and called out again, but it was still completely silent. Suddenly it struck her that her little brother was quiet too. Even though he had been screaming and screaming nonstop for days. Lukas had a sore throat and a fever and took medicine, but he still didn’t get better, Mummy said. Maybe his sickness had passed, now that he’d stopped screaming? Then Mummy would finally have a little time left over to play with her too, and not just be always occupied with Lukas.

Hanna stuck her head through the doorway, pushing back a strand of fair hair that was hanging down in her face. She had long hair that Mummy would put up in a ponytail or pigtails in the morning, so it wouldn’t get into her eyes when she played. She was three years old and went to preschool several days a week, although not today because today was Saturday. Hanna knew that, because you kept track of such things when you were as big as she was; Saturdays were especially easy to remember, because then you could buy sweets and drink pop.

So Mummy would just have to be angry. Hanna couldn’t stand waiting any longer; she tiptoed out to the living room. The bedroom door stood wide open and there was full daylight inside. That was strange; were they sleeping with the blinds up? She sneaked up to the doorway and looked carefully into the room. The big double bed was where it always was, but it was empty. There were no
covers, no pillows. There was no Mummy or little brother either.

Hanna stood quietly for a long time, without really understanding what she saw, but then she crept up on to the empty bed and started to cry.

* * *

With a jerk he sat up in bed and screamed. He had never done that before. Åsa, with a hardened parent’s ability to go straight from deep sleep to being wide awake, sat up just as quickly and looked at her husband in alarm. Then she caressed his back with big, gentle movements and he put his hands over his face and rocked slowly back and forth.

‘What were you dreaming?’ Åsa asked carefully. ‘You’ve never done that before.’

Sjöberg did not answer, simply shook his head in distress and sighed. They remained like that for a long time, and then he whispered, ‘There’s a woman in a window.’ He hoped she didn’t hear him. ‘She’s looking down at me and I’m standing barefoot in the grass.’

Then he fell silent.

‘That’s it?’

‘That’s it.’

‘Who is she?’ asked Åsa.

‘I don’t know,’ Sjöberg said quietly.

‘You’ve only slept for a few hours,’ said Åsa. ‘It’s not time to get up yet. Lie down again and I’ll stroke your back.’

He lay down beside her obediently, with his back turned towards her. She drew her hand through his blond hair a
few times and then brought it slowly across his shoulder, arm, back and down to the lower back. He was sweaty and his entire body was still tense, despite Åsa’s gentle caresses.

The dream had been the same as so many times before. He was standing barefoot on a lawn wet with dew, looking down at his feet. He wanted to look up, but something held him back. His head felt so terribly heavy that he was barely able to raise it. He exerted himself with all his strength and managed at last to turn his face upwards, but still he didn’t dare open his eyes. The back of his head pulled down towards his shoulders and he didn’t want to move.

At last he opened his eyes. And there she stood again in the window, the woman with the dazzling dark-red hair like sunlight around her head. She was dancing for him up there in the window, before finally meeting his gaze. But she only seemed surprised. So strange. He raised his arms up towards her but lost his balance and fell headlong backwards.

The dream was becoming clearer every time he had it. And although the woman had not always taken her shape, now it was Margit Olofsson standing in the window, mocking him. Since the woman in the dream had assumed Margit’s features, the dream had become that much more unpleasant. Why, he didn’t know. It had been unpleasant enough, without the woman in the window having a name. He wanted to push the dream out of his mind, but he failed. It encircled his thoughts like a fog bank.

Careful to conceal how tense and upset he was, he turned around in bed. He took Åsa in his arms and buried his face between her cheek and shoulder. Her hair smelled of celery. When Åsa ate celery her whole body smelled of it for hours afterwards. She smelled like Åsa, and that was
the most marvellous scent he knew. How he loved this woman. But then, as they made love in the darkness, it was still Margit Olofsson he saw before his eyes.

* * *

Elise was still in bed, silent and still. Maybe she was asleep; she didn’t respond and her eyes were closed. Jennifer had a feeling her little sister had thrown up a few times during the night, because she had kept running into the bathroom. She had come home fairly early, but she hadn’t said much and she’d looked terrible. Dead drunk probably. You couldn’t tolerate much at that age; she was only fourteen after all. Jennifer closed the door to their room and went out to the hall.

The door to the living room was still closed, and Jennifer had no idea who or what was concealed behind it. Maybe it was Solan and her guy. Someone was sleeping in there anyway, because she heard heavy breathing and sometimes a snore. It was probably a frightful mess in there too. She wasn’t even going to set foot in the kitchen. It stank of sour beer and old cigarette butts, rubbish everywhere. Gordon was lying on the kitchen floor, fully clothed and with nothing to cover him, but under his head he had a rolled-up rag rug as a pillow. He was lying completely still with his mouth open, and she couldn’t see whether he was breathing. He might just as well be dead, she thought, but just then he let out a muffled whimper. She looked contemptuously at the floored wreckage of a person and thought how today Elise would have to do the cleaning; she was going to have fun.

Jennifer reached for the leather jacket on the hook and put it on. With an accustomed movement she tugged up the blonde hair that was inside the collar and let it fall down over her shoulders. Then she left the disaster area behind her, a bulging bag over her shoulder; she did not intend to come back within the next thirty-six hours.

Fanny and Malin were waiting for her outside the Intersport shop at the corner of Dalslandsgatan and Götgatan. And Joakim. He was also standing there, a little further away. She didn’t know why; she had suggested they meet at Central Station, but here he was anyway. For some reason she felt ill at ease and avoided looking at him, greeting her friends instead.

At first she pretended not to see him. Joakim didn’t know how to interpret that, what he ought to do, but after some consideration he gathered his courage and went up to the girls, making a show of being unconcerned. Jennifer didn’t react at all at first, but finally gave him a distant glance. Only now did she see that his face was completely battered.

‘What the hell happened to you?’ she cried out. ‘You look freaky!’

Joakim didn’t know whether he should tell the truth or come up with an excuse, so he chose the simplest way and told her what really happened.

‘Uh, Dad had a fit,’ he answered nonchalantly. ‘That’s the way he is.’

Malin and Fanny were staring at him with admiration and then looked enquiringly at Jennifer, who seemed embarrassed.

‘Hmm,’ was all she said. ‘Well, this is Joakim. A friend. He’s coming along tonight. Or …?’

She turned to Joakim with a look that said it didn’t matter either way.

‘Of course,’ said Joakim. ‘That’s what we said.’

The situation felt strange. Jennifer was not like she usually was, now her friends were here. It was almost like she was ashamed of him. Usually she was so gentle and straightforward. Of course, yesterday when he needed her most she hadn’t answered when he tried to reach her on her mobile. Instead of being with Jennifer, he’d spent the night in the city, wandered the streets around Sergelstorg, ridden the night bus, had a couple of beers by himself and killed a few hours at a McDonald’s. Now he just wanted to hug her, but he couldn’t when she was like this. Instead he placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed her upper arm a little. Jennifer didn’t react at all, but took off towards the stairs down to the metro over at Ringvägen, walking quickly.

‘Come on, let’s go get the tickets,’ was all she said.

In the metro carriage they all stood, even though there were plenty of seats. The girls babbled on about this and that but did not draw Joakim into the conversation; after a while he sat down on a seat near them. He studied Jennifer, her facial expressions and movements, without listening to what they were talking about.

With her self-confident manner she was everything he wasn’t. She was relaxed and natural and in a quiet way she was automatically the centre of attraction in every situation. Not to mention how good-looking she was. He wanted to hold her; he wanted her to smile that smile at
him again. He wanted to dance with her, kiss her neck and stroke her gleaming hair.

What had happened? Was she tired of him, or had there never been anything between them? Was it just a game, a whim for her, and now everything was over and without his having understood the rules of the game? Or was she just shy in front of her friends? Before there had only been the two of them.

Suddenly he felt unsure about going along on this Finland cruise; maybe it would turn out completely different from how he had imagined it. He didn’t have his father’s permission either, so maybe it would be just as well not to go. Then he remembered how his father had attacked him the night before and he hesitated no longer. Of course he would go along on this trip. With a few beers under his belt he would feel fine. Jennifer would lighten up and get giggly and cuddly and he would take care of her and treat her to everything she wanted. Of course he would go along.

He smiled at her and she seemed to have sensed his gaze on her back, because suddenly she turned towards him and gave him what might be a hint of a smile. And then immediately started gossiping with her friends again. Maybe they were talking about him, because sometimes they looked over at him too. In contrast to Jennifer, their smiles were friendly.

As they made their way up out of the metro at Central Station, Joakim stayed a few steps behind the girls; Jennifer turned around every now and then to make sure he was still there. And at the entrance to the Viking Line office in the bus terminal, to his surprise she stopped and waited for him. When it was their turn in the line she took
him by the arm before they went up to the counter. He felt his face turning bright red, but hoped it wasn’t noticeable under his beard and wounds.

The woman behind the counter looked startled when she saw Joakim, and it struck him that his current appearance would scare the wits out of anyone. Maybe that was why Jennifer had kept her distance. But she was standing close beside him now, holding her arm under his.

‘We’ve booked tickets to Åbo this evening,’ said Jennifer.

‘And the name was …?’

‘Jennifer Johansson.’

‘So, how old are you?’ the woman asked, studying them suspiciously over her reading glasses.

‘We’re twenty,’ said Jennifer, nodding in her friends’ direction.

‘And you?’ she said, looking at Joakim without concealing her distaste.

‘Twenty-four,’ Joakim replied.

‘I see. Can you prove it?’ said the woman in an ice-cold voice.

Joakim took his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and fished out his ID. Her gaze flicked back and forth between Joakim and the ID card; apparently she could visualize Joakim going berserk in the bar on
Viking Cinderella
. Finally she nodded and her gaze swept over Joakim, Jennifer’s arm under Joakim’s, Malin, and finally Fanny.