Cinderella Girl (6 page)

As he sat there thinking about their relationship – or whatever you wanted to call it – she was like a blank sheet of paper. He knew nothing about who she was or how she viewed things. On the other hand, she didn’t know much about him either.

They had met only about a month earlier, in August, when it was still summer and warm outside. They met on Götgatan, in front of the building at Ringen where she lived. Jennifer had been to the shop to redeem bottles and do some shopping. She told him that she put the groceries in the paper bag she’d brought the empty bottles in. Just as they were passing one another on the pavement, the bottom dropped out of the bag. He helped her gather up the groceries then ran to the 7-Eleven on the other side of the street to buy a new bag for her.

Completely unperturbed by people looking at them, she’d directed all of her attention at Joakim. He noticed that she had a way of laughing with her whole face, not just with her mouth, and her eyes sparkled at him until he was completely weak at the knees.

A few days later they ran into each other at McDonald’s, where they were sitting at separate tables. Jennifer caught sight of him and came up and asked if she could sit down at his table. She had been in a rowdy mood then, interested and talkative, and when they had finished eating she asked if he wanted to have a beer at one of the outdoor cafés on Medborgarplatsen. Taken by surprise by her direct manner, he agreed. They got drunk, and although he was much older, she was the one who took
the initiative. Joakim felt free and a little wild in her company; she didn’t ask annoying questions and didn’t demand anything. She bubbled away and seemed to appreciate him as he was. Jennifer dragged him around to various places and after they had been snogging for a while in the bar at the Green Hunter she’d pulled him into the toilet.

It had been a magical evening and there had been a few more like that, before her interest in him seemed to subside. It was now almost two weeks since they’d had such a good time together. She blamed it first on one thing, then another, and sometimes – like yesterday – was simply unavailable or didn’t show up when they made a date.

Joakim was at a loss about what to do, but he thought the whole situation was unpleasant. He knocked back the last drops of beer and pushed the glass away. Just as he was getting up to leave he caught sight of her. Far away, in the other part of the dance hall and half hidden by the long, semicircular bar he saw her from behind. Slouched in an armchair and with a reddish drink in her hand, she sat talking to two middle-aged men in suits.

Joakim froze mid-movement. He turned completely cold inside when he saw how she gestured and laughed with the two strangers. Why was she acting like that? He was the one she was here with; who were those men? They both seemed to move a little closer to her. One placed his hand on her thigh; the other stroked her cheek. She didn’t pull away and didn’t seem the least bit bothered. On the contrary, she laughed again and again – he could see that from the way she moved her shoulders. She held out her glass and toasted them and they brought their glasses next to hers. Dance music was playing through the
loudspeakers and Joakim was sitting too far away to hear the clinking glasses or their voices. But he’d had enough. He felt his worry turn to rage and knew inside that it was all over now. Definitely over.

* * *

Jennifer tried to tell herself that she was only looking for excitement. But she knew there was something else besides – attention, not just from Joakim, not just from the usual losers who filled her world. Right now this felt right. And it would tomorrow too. The thought of poor Joakim flitted through her mind, but to hell with him, he was an adult; he could take her as she was or not at all. She was the smith of her own happiness; that was enough. She wasn’t prepared to be the smith of Joakim’s too.

She felt pleasantly tipsy; now if she could just keep this perfect level of intoxication going. Not get more drunk, not get sober.

‘Are you here alone?’ asked the darker and thinner of the two men.

They both spoke with that wonderful Finnish accent, and even though they sounded like Moomintrolls she thought the dialect only reinforced their manliness.

‘No, I’m here with a few friends. I just got a little tired of them,’ Jennifer replied apologetically. ‘They’re so … immature.’

‘That’s not good. We’ll have to cheer you up a little. We’re very mature,’ laughed the other one. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Jennifer.’

‘I’m Erik,’ said the huskier one, ‘and this is Henrik. We’ve been on a business trip to Stockholm. What are you drinking?’

‘Tequila Sunrise,’ she answered, thinking it sounded glamorous.

‘What the hell. That is mature,’ the one named Erik grinned, getting up and going over to the bar.

Jennifer felt herself blushing a little, and glanced at the clock over by the bar as if to divert their attention.

‘So, how old are you?’ asked Henrik, placing his hand on her shoulder.

‘Almost seventeen. How old are you?’

‘What do you think?’ he countered. ‘We’re two men in our prime.’

‘Forty-three,’ she guessed, and Henrik nodded appreciatively.

‘Not bad, not bad at all. At our age, you know, you don’t really like talking about your age. Do you have a boyfriend?’

He gathered up the papers they had been looking at before they rescued her from that disgusting man, and placed them in a briefcase on the couch beside him.

‘Well, what should I say? Sometimes, sometimes not.’

Henrik was not content with that, and persisted.

‘Okay, but right now?’

After quick deliberation she answered with a half-truth.

‘No, I can’t really say that. Maybe he thinks so, but I’m not involved with him any more.’

Well, that was that. There was something about the situation with Joakim that made her uneasy, but now it was over. Once she’d formulated them and the words
were spoken, it became the truth. But Henrik didn’t give up.

‘So is he here on the boat, the poor guy?’

And now Jennifer lied; she didn’t want to think about it any more, much less talk about it.

‘Hell, no!’ she said. ‘Do you think I’d take him along on a trip like this?’

Erik came back. He set two large beers and a reddish-yellow drink, decorated with orange slices and a piece of kiwi neatly arranged on a toothpick, in the middle of the table. Henrik handed out the glasses and extended his own towards Jennifer.

‘Cheers to freedom then,’ he said, winking at her.

Erik did the same and Jennifer responded with a smile. The drink was not as strong as she’d hoped and she soon emptied it.

‘You’re a real pro at drinking,’ said Erik.

‘That was just fruit juice. They’re a little stingy with the alcohol, I think. I’ll go get a beer instead, then you know what you’re getting.’

‘No, no, what the hell, our treat,’ said Henrik. ‘But you know what, let’s go down to our cabin instead, where we’ve got some real stuff. What do you say, Erik?’

Erik agreed, the two men finished their beers and all three left the bar and made their way towards the lifts.

Their cabin was higher up in the boat than Jennifer’s, but not high enough to have windows. This cabin also had room for four people, but Erik assured her that he and Henrik were the only occupants. Henrik uncorked a bottle of Finnish vodka that he pulled out of a bag from the
duty-free shop, mixing the alcohol with orange juice in some toothbrush glasses. Jennifer and Henrik sat down on one lower bunk with Erik across from them.

He’s handsome, thought Jennifer. He and Henrik were talking about something and joking and laughing, but she wasn’t thinking about what they said so much as how they said it. Henrik was handsome too; tall and dark, maybe a little too thin. He looked almost dangerous, with his cheeks scarred by something, probably teenage acne. He was better dressed, with a slightly more refined style than his friend, but Erik on the other hand had a kind of bitter humour and a dimple in his chin that appealed to her. He was a bit more rugged and had streaks of grey in his medium-blond hair, but it suited him.

Jennifer had always been attracted to older guys, but they were both considerably older than what she was used to. Real men, simply. In their prime. Different from the blokes her mother dragged home, or the peach-fuzzed geeks her own age, for that matter. No, she would probably choose Erik, but it could go either way. There was something exciting about both of them and to top it off, that mature, manly self-confidence. It was like they owned the world, they didn’t need to look around to see what people thought. Nothing worried them. They were the ones who set the agenda; they didn’t accommodate other people.

‘Cheers again, kiddo,’ said Henrik, placing his hand on her thigh.

He could do that, completely unruffled, without risking anything. He placed his hand on her leg and then the leg was his. He spoke to her as if she were little and he was big, and she could calmly lean back and let herself be
taken care of on his terms. It was natural and obvious and she felt comfortable. With Joakim it was different. Suddenly it occurred to her what the problem was with him. Even though he was much older, it was Jennifer who was in charge, and that wasn’t the way she wanted it.

They talked and drank and everything felt completely natural. She found herself far from her everyday world and far from her friends and their loud teenage drunkenness. She had taken yet another step into the adult world; Joakim and his yearning and fumbling were forgotten. It was not long before Jennifer was perched on Henrik’s lap. Erik moved over and took her place on the bed. Suddenly she caught sight of a ring on his finger.

‘Are you married?’ she laughed.

‘Yes, I’ve been married for a long time. Far too long,’ he answered, looking deep into her eyes.

Jennifer didn’t really understand what that was supposed to mean, whether it was good or bad, but she was held fast in that long gaze. His face was close to hers now and she could sense the aroma of his aftershave and the heat of his breath. Henrik’s hands suddenly caressed her legs, the inside of her thighs, and wandered playfully up over the button of her jeans. She sank even deeper into Erik’s gaze and his face approached hers until their lips met.

Practised hands groped their way in under her top, cupped her breasts, and she could feel hot breath on her neck; damp, warm lips on her face; several hands – hands everywhere. Two pairs of hands, two pairs of lips, two men playing with her body. Her sight was clouded by a kind of nameless yearning; she sank into the alcoholic stupor and let go.

When she woke up a few hours later she was alone in a cold, sticky bed. Her mouth was completely dry and a hangover was already making itself known in the form of a pounding headache right behind her eyes. What had really happened? What was she doing here? Shit, now it came back. Why did they just leave her like this? Damn it.

She propped herself up on her elbows and looked around the room. A half-full glass had been left on the floor below the bed, begging to be emptied. Jennifer took a look at the clock on the wall-mounted radio: one o’clock – not really late at all. She had no plans to go to bed early, so she knocked back the lukewarm drink and staggered into the bathroom for a quick shower and fresh make-up. The headache had already retreated somewhat and her spirits had recovered. She picked her clothes up from the floor, brushed them off and got dressed.

As she was bending down to put on her shoes she noticed a bundle of extra blankets and pillows under one of the beds. But there was something else too – in the middle of the soft pile of bedding she glimpsed the black briefcase Henrik had had beside him on the couch up in the bar. After a few moments of hesitation she decided.

For no real reason she pulled out the briefcase and cracked open the lid. Besides paper and pens, a calculator and a pair of gloves there was a diary. She couldn’t resist picking it up and leafing quickly through the thin pages, until her gaze stopped at the owner’s name on the inside of the leather-bound binder. Carefully she put the diary back where she found it, closed the briefcase again and pushed it under the bed.

In the little cupboard right inside the door, two jackets
were hanging. After turning almost all the pockets inside out, she finally found what she was looking for: a small bundle of business cards, carefully tucked into an unassuming navy-blue folder of velvety fabric. The same information was printed on all the cards and the business name was not familiar. She memorized the names Fredrik Grönroos and Gustav Helenius, put the business cards back in the inside pocket of the jacket and left the cabin.

* * *

When Hanna woke up it was already dark outside. The floor beneath her was wet, as was her nightie. The hunger was back again, worse than before. The sweets had satisfied her for a while, but now she needed food – like Mummy and Daddy would make. She took off the damp nightie, drying the pee from the floor as best she could using the nightie as a rag. To please her mum and dad, as she told herself, she stuffed the damp bundle into the laundry basket in the bathroom.

The rest of the sweets were still on the kitchen floor. There was only salt liquorice left, and she couldn’t imagine eating that even in an emergency. A sandwich would have been good now and she knew where the bread was kept, but even if she got up on one of the tall stools she still could not reach that far, up to the cupboard over the refrigerator. Instead she tried to open the refrigerator door, but it was stuck fast.

This was not the time to give up, she felt instinctively, so she stubbornly dragged a chair all the way over to the
refrigerator and climbed up on it to get a better grip on the handle. The chair left obvious scratches on the floor and that would not be appreciated, she knew, but the damage was already done. Hanna tugged and pulled on the obstinate door, and just as she was about to give up it finally surrendered. It turned out to be the freezer she had opened, but that would just have to do. Her skin got goose pimples from the icy cold blowing out on her bare body as she systematically pulled out the drawers in the freezer, one at a time. At last she found a packet she recognized: hash. That was also one of her very favourite things.