The Shadow Girls (20 page)

‘I’m not interested in your novel. I’m interested in my investments. You have swindled me.’

‘It is always risky to let one’s greed get the better of one.’

‘You were the person who talked me out of selling.’

‘It is my duty to give you the best advice at my disposal at any given moment.’

Humlin felt that he was simply getting snared by Burén’s avoidance strategies. He hung up without saying anything else. Anders Burén himself would be a good subject of a novel, he thought angrily. The distance between his world and Stensgården is like an expanding universe. The distance is increasing every second. If I brought the girls and him together, what would they talk about?

He bent over his notes. There was a sound at the front door. He held his breath and felt his heart start beating faster. It’s the Yüksels, he thought. Soon a large Turkish family will pour in and they are going to want to know what a strange man is doing in their apartment.

But it was Tanya who had come back. She looked questioningly at him. She sees my fear, Humlin thought. If there’s anything she knows all about it’s insecurity since she lives with it constantly.
Tanya emptied the contents of her backpack on the table. Apart from the now-familiar icons, pine cones and baby’s dummies there were mobile phones. Seven, to be precise.

‘You can choose the one you want.’

‘Where did you steal these?’

‘At the police station.’

Humlin stared at her.

‘The police station?’

‘I didn’t like being kept there overnight. I wanted to revenge myself a little. I went back there and picked up a few phones.’

‘These phones belong to police officers?’

‘Only the commanding officers. And a prosecutor. Take them all. If we’re lucky they won’t be blocked until tomorrow.’

‘I don’t want a stolen phone. Particularly not one that belongs to a policeman.’

He saw that she was hurt. Then there was that angry glint in her eye again. Before he said anything she shoved one of the phones in his hand.

‘Take this one. Answer it when it rings.’

‘Never. How would I explain who I was?’

‘Do as I say. If you really want to know who I am.’

She left the kitchen. The front door was closed quietly. Shortly afterwards the phone rang. He hesitated, then answered it. It was Tanya.

‘This is Irina,’ she said.

‘Why are you calling yourself Irina? Where are you?’

‘You can see me from the windows in the living room.’

He walked over to the windows and looked out. Tanya was standing in the middle of a muddy patch of land that was supposed to be a lawn.

‘I see you. Why are we talking on the phone?’

‘It’s easier for me.’

‘Why are you calling youself Irina?’

‘That’s my name.’

‘What about Tanya? And Natalia, Tatyana and Inez?’

‘I like to think of them as my stage names.’

‘Actresses have stage names. Not pickpockets.’

‘Are you making fun of me?’

‘I’m just trying to understand why you go by so many names.’

‘How are you supposed to make it in this world if you aren’t prepared to sacrifice something like a name?’

‘I still don’t know which is your real name.’

‘Do you know how I came to Sweden?’

He was surprised by her question. Her voice sounded different, less hard and remote.

‘No, I don’t know that.’

‘I rowed.’

‘How do you mean “rowed”?’

‘It means what you think it means. I rowed to Sweden.’

‘From where?’

‘From Tallinn.’

‘From Estonia to Sweden? That’s impossible!’

*

I’m here, aren’t I? I was forced to row, I had no choice. I would not have dared to try to get through the passport check in customs after the ferry from Tallinn to Sweden when I was escaping from those who had kept me imprisoned. I walked away and came to a small fishing dock. There was a boat pulled up on the shore. I knew I had to get away from the city or I would die. I sat down in the
boat and rowed out of the bay. There was no wind. I had no idea how far it was. I rowed all night. The only thing I had with me was some water and a few sandwiches. When dawn came I was surrounded by ocean on all sides. I didn’t even know which way to row, but then I tried to orient myself by the sun. I steered west. I rowed straight into the sunset.

The second day I saw a passenger ship in the distance. I thought it was probably headed for Sweden. I kept rowing. My back and arms had lost almost all feeling, but I had to keep rowing to keep my panic at bay. I was rowing away from the hell I had been in since leaving Smolensk. It is still hard for me to think about that time. It was much worse than having the Swedish police on your heels. I can really only think of it if I turn it into a story about someone else. I can still see him clearly, the man I met in Smolensk who promised me that I could have a bright future in Tallinn if I came and worked in his friend’s restaurant. Every morning I pray that he has died, that the world has become rid of him, been rid of the burden that an evil man is.

That second night at sea the wind picked up. I don’t know if it was a real storm but I had to continually scoop water out of the boat. It was like that for two days. I don’t remember anything except that I was cold and I had to keep scooping. I fainted several times, but I had bound the oars to my belt because I knew I would never make it without them. I loved those oars, they were what kept me alive. It wasn’t the boat, it was the oars. If I ever build a temple there will be two oars by the altar. I could start my own religion where I pray to two old oars that smell of tar.

I think it took about four days to row to Sweden. I never turned around as I was rowing because I didn’t want to feel the disappointment of not seeing land. Therefore I never realised how close
I was. Suddenly the boat hit something. It was stuck. When I turned around it almost scared me because I was so close to the bottom. I had hit a small sandbank and was so close I could wade to shore. It was evening. I wandered around on the beach. I saw lights in the distance but did not dare go closer since I didn’t know where I was. I lay down by a big rock and even though it was cold I slept until the sun came up.

The boat had disappeared in the night. It must have floated back out to sea. My oars were gone and I was so upset I started to cry. Then I started walking. I passed a house with a flagpole and the blue and yellow flag on top. That’s when I knew I was in Sweden. It was a childish thought, but I was sad that the oars were not with me and that we could not celebrate our success together.

When I was imprisoned in the brothel in Tallinn with Inez, Natalia and Tatyana the only thing we had with us was a book about all the flags of the world. We learned them all. You can ask me about Cameroon or Mexico. I can describe them all in detail. This is the story of how I came to Sweden.

*

Humlin waited to see if she would continue but she did not. While Tanya had told her story he had been watching her from the window. He wondered if he would ever have a phone conversation like this again.

‘Where was it you had landed?’

‘The island of Gotland.’

‘Incredible. What did you do then?’

‘I don’t have the energy to tell any more.’

‘What was it that had happened in Tallinn?’

‘You can’t use your imagination?’

‘It’s your story. I don’t want to put my own thoughts in it.’

‘I can’t say anything more.’

‘You must have been lured to Tallinn. There was no restaurant. You met some other girls who were in the same situation as yourself. One was Natalia, one was Tatyana. But who is Inez, and Tanya? And Irina?’

‘I’m not going to answer your questions. I’m getting cold.’

‘Why can’t you come back up?’

‘I don’t have time. I put a bag of food by the door.’

The connection was broken. Tanya waved at him. He watched her leave. You didn’t row from Estonia, he thought. You borrowed that story from Tea-Bag, in the same way that you borrow identities and phones. But on some level there was also some truth to what you told me.

Humlin opened the front door and saw that she had brought him a hamburger and a Coke. He went back to the Yüksel family kitchen table and ate. He thought about the story he had heard related from one stolen phone to another. He again felt that he was in the middle of a strange story, or rather, that he was jumping from story to story as if from ice floe to ice floe. None of them had a real beginning and an end. For the first time in a long time he felt that he was involved in something important.

He pulled the pad of paper towards him and continued making notes. But the stories had already begun to take on new life. He added details and saw many new stories about a kind of life he had know nothing about before he came to Stensgården.

I don’t even know what I’m doing, he thought. My main concerns are still that Viktor Leander will sell more copies than I will, that my shares are worthless, that my mother is going crazy, and that Andrea will leave me if I don’t agree to having a
child. Perhaps I should be more concerned about these girls and what they have told me. But isn’t what they have told me also something that is as much about me?

*

Humlin heard Tanya’s soft knock on the door at exactly five o’clock. Leyla was with her.

They sat down in the living room because Tanya felt it was the safest room in the apartment and the place they were least likely to be overheard. They had to speak with low voices, leaning towards each other, as if they were conspiring together. Humlin decided he should probably start by saying a few words about the chaos that had erupted at their first meeting.

‘Naturally, I should never have touched that girl’s cheek. But it was an innocent mistake. I like to touch people.’

Leyla looked closely at him.

‘You’ve never tried to touch me,’ she said.

‘It’s a spontaneous impulse.’

‘I think you’re lying. I think you think I’m too fat.’

‘I don’t think you’re too fat.’

Tanya shifted uncomfortably on her chair. Leyla had a defiant look.

‘Let’s see,’ he said. ‘I’m not quite sure how we should begin today.’

‘Shouldn’t you ask us about what we’ve written?’ Leyla asked.

She was starting to irritate him. She really was quite obese.

‘Of course we’ll get to that. But first I want to know why you all wrote that you wanted to be talk-show hosts.’

‘I didn’t,’ Tanya said.

‘No, you didn’t. And why didn’t you write that? Don’t you want to be a talk-show host?’

‘Of course I do. I want to host a show that is about confronting men.’

‘Explain that to me.’

‘The programme would be a forum for women to revenge themselves on the men in their lives.’

‘I’ve never heard of a show like that,’ Humlin said.

‘It’s an original concept.’

Humlin didn’t say anything. He looked over at Leyla.

‘I want my show to be nice,’ she said.

‘And how is that?’

‘Guests would be able to just sit there, if they felt like it. They wouldn’t have to talk all the time, just have a nice time. There’s always so much conflict on TV.’

Humlin tried to imagine a show where the guests were quiet and intent on relaxing, but couldn’t. He asked them to show him what they had written.

First he read aloud what Leyla had written. Her handwriting was childishly neat and round.

‘
I would like to write about what I know of life, of what it is like to be fat and dream each night of being thin only to wake up disappointed the next morning. Actually I want to write something that makes me famous so I can stay in fancy hotels and have breakfast in bed. But actually I don’t know why I’m doing this at all. Or anything, for that matter. Why do I bother to live at all? Sweden is like this rope I cling to. However hard I try I can never reach the floor with my feet. I want the answers to all my questions. And I want to be able to write to my grandmother and tell her what snow is. When can I start working in TV? If you touch me like you touched that girl, Haiman or someone else will wrench your head from your shoulders and then I’ll keep it at home in a flower pot. Is this enough? Leyla
.’

‘A good start,’ Humlin said. ‘You should develop this a little further for our next meeting.’

Tanya gave him a small packet.

‘I don’t want you to open it now,’ she said.

‘What are you giving him presents for?’ Leyla asked angrily, grabbing the package.

‘It’s not a present. It’s what I wrote.’

Leyla took it back. Humlin was worried they were going to start fighting. He raised his arms and tried to calm them.

‘I will bring both texts home with me and read them carefully. Next time we’ll talk about what you wrote, Tanya. I promise not to show it to anyone.’

*

They decided to meet the following week. Leyla promised to speak to Törnblom and explain that the writing seminar was going to continue as if the delay with the train and the resulting disaster had never happened. Humlin promised to be punctual.

‘Törnblom may not believe you,’ he said. ‘It may be hard to convince him.’

‘Everyone believes me,’ Leyla said. ‘I look harmless.’

‘I have to go now,’ Humlin said. ‘But I also wanted to give you a moment before I left to ask me about my own work, if there’s anything you want to know.’

‘I tried to read one of your books,’ Leyla said. ‘But I didn’t understand a thing. I hate feeling stupid. When do we get to meet someone who writes for a soap opera?’

Humlin was starting to get used to the rapid changes of subject matter.

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘What does that mean exactly?’

‘That I’ll think about whether I know or know of anyone who has anything to do with soap operas.’

‘I want a good part.’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Humlin said.

‘I want a big part with lots of lines.’

‘I may be able to think of someone you can talk to.’

Leyla did not seem satisfied with his vague answers, but her phone rang. She listened without saying anything.

‘My dad has called,’ she said. ‘I have to go.’