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  She put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes.

  The bus was already at the bus-stop outside the station, which was something, she supposed. It set off for Hälleforsnäs a few minutes later, passing through Mellösa and stopping at a DIY store in Flenmo.

  This could be the last time I’m coming home when I come back here, she thought.

  She got out at the supermarket as usual, and watched the bus as it disappeared down the road. She didn’t feel like going home, couldn’t face her soon-to-be-abandoned flat yet. After some hesitation she decided to go to her mother’s.

  It would be an exaggeration to say that her mother was pleased to see her.

  ‘Come in,’ she said. ‘I’ve just made coffee.’

  Annika sat down at the kitchen table, still feeling numb and ashamed.

  ‘I’ve found a house,’ her mother said, putting out another cup.

  Annika pretended not to hear, and looked out at the old ironworks through the window.

  ‘Carport and pool,’ her mother went on, louder this time. ‘White bricks. It’s big – seven rooms. There’s room for you and Sven as well.’

  ‘I don’t want to live in Eskilstuna,’ Annika said without looking away from the ironworks.

  ‘It’s in Svista, outside the town. Hugelstaborg. It’s a nice area. Good people.’

  Annika blinked and looked away from the window, then closed her eyes in irritation.

  ‘What do you want seven rooms for?’

  Her mother stopped fussing about, evidently hurt.

  ‘I only want room for you, for you and Sven and Birgitta. And the grandchildren, of course.’

  Annika stood up, and her mother blinked innocently.

  ‘You’re probably going to have to rely on Birgitta, then,’ Annika said. ‘I’m not going to be having any kids for a long time yet.’

  She went over to the sink, took a glass out of the cupboard above and filled it from the tap. Her mother was watching her, gently reproachful.

  ‘And is Sven allowed to have an opinion about this, then?’

  Annika spun round. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Her mother tilted her chin. ‘Some people think you bully him. Just moving to Stockholm like that, without asking him.’

  Annika’s face was white with rage. ‘What would you know about that?’ she said.

  Her mother fumbled for a packet of cigarettes, clicking her lighter several times before it worked. She took a deep drag and coughed hard.

  ‘You know nothing about me and Sven,’ Annika said once the woman had finished coughing. ‘Do you mean to say I should have turned down this chance for his sake, is that it? Do my career and income have to depend on his bloody goodwill? Is that really what you think? Well?’

  Her mother had tears in her eyes when she finally got her breath back.

  ‘Goodness, I really must stop smoking these horrid things.’

  She tried to smile, but Annika didn’t smile back.

  ‘Of course I think you should make an effort with your job. You’re so talented. But it’s hard up there, everybody knows that. No one’s blaming you for failing.’

  Annika turned and filled her glass again. Her mother came over and stroked her arm rather clumsily.

  ‘Annika,’ she said, ‘don’t be so angry with me.’

  ‘I’m not angry with you,’ Annika said in a subdued voice, without turning round.

  Her mother hesitated. ‘It seems like it, sometimes,’ she said.

  Annika turned round and looked at her mother with tired eyes.

  ‘I just don’t understand why you insist on thinking you should move to some flashy house in Eskilstuna. You don’t have the money! Where would you work? Or are you thinking of commuting to the supermarket here?’

  Now it was her mother’s turn to look away.

  ‘There are lots of jobs in Eskilstuna,’ she said, affronted. ‘Good, honest cashiers don’t grow on trees, you know.’

  ‘So why don’t you start with that, then? Start by looking for a job! It doesn’t make sense to start with the luxury villa, surely you can see that?’

  The woman took several deep drags on her cigarette.

  ‘You don’t respect me,’ she said.

  ‘Of course I do!’ Annika said, holding her arms out. ‘Good grief, you’re my mother! I just think you should keep your feet on the ground. If you want to live in a detached house, why not buy one here in Hälleforsnäs! They hardly cost anything! I saw another For Sale sign in Flen today – have you called to see how much they want for that one?’

  ‘Finns,’ her mother said contemptuously.

  ‘Now you’re just being stupid,’ Annika said.

  ‘What about you, then?’ her mother said. ‘You don’t want to live here either. You only want to live in Stockholm.’

  Annika held her arms out again.

  ‘That’s not because there’s anything wrong with Hälleforsnäs! I love this place. But the job I want just isn’t here.’

  Her mother put her cigarette out on the sink. Her cheeks were glowing, and she had red circles round her eyes. Her voice was shaking.

  ‘I don’t want to live in an old hovel in this shithole, surely you can understand that! I’d rather stay here, in this flat.’

  ‘Okay, why don’t you?’ Annika said, picking up her bag and walking out.

  71

  She picked up her bicycle and went off to see Sven.

  There was no point in putting it off any longer. He lived in the old stable that had belonged to the ironworks. It had once been a smart, impressive building, but now it just sat, miserable and rundown, at the bottom of Tattarbacken.

  He was home, sitting and drinking a few beers as he watched the football on television.

  ‘Darling,’ he said, getting up to give her a hug. ‘You’ve no idea how glad I am that you’re home.’

  She tried to wriggle discreetly out of his arms, her heart thudding, her legs trembling.

  ‘I’m here to pack, Sven,’ she said, her voice shaking.

  He smiled. ‘Yes, I want us to move in together as well.’

  She gulped and gasped for air, on the brink of bursting into tears.

  ‘Sven,’ she said, ‘I’ve got a job in Stockholm. At the Evening Post. They want me back. I start in November.’

  She was clutching the strap of her bag nervously. She still had her outdoor shoes on.

  Sven shook his head. ‘But that’s never going to work,’ he said. ‘You can’t commute every day; surely even you can see that?’

  She closed her eyes as her tears brimmed over.

  ‘I’m going to move,’ she said. ‘For good. I’ve given up the flat and my job at the Courier.’

  As she said this she began to back instinctively towards the door.

  ‘What the fuck are you saying?’

  Sven came towards her.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she sobbed. ‘I never wanted to hurt you. I really did love you.’

  ‘You’re leaving me?’ he said breathlessly, grabbing her by the arms.

  She leaned her head back and shut her eyes, tears running down her face and neck.

  ‘This is how it has to be,’ she said breathlessly. ‘You deserve someone who loves you more. I can’t do it any more.’

  He started to shake her, slowly at first, then more violently.

  ‘What the fuck do you mean?’ he shouted. ‘Are you trying to say you’re dumping me? Me?’

  Annika wept, her head hit the door behind her as she tried to hold him away from her.

  ‘Sven,’ she said, ‘Sven, listen to me—’

  ‘Why the fuck should I listen to you?’ he screamed. ‘You’ve been lying to me all fucking summer! You said you wanted to give living in Stockholm a try, but you never had any intention of coming home, did you? Christ, you really pulled a fast one on me!’

  Annika stopped crying at once and looked him right in the eye.

  ‘You’re absolutely right,’ she said. ‘All I want i
s to be free of you.’

  He let go of her, staring at her incredulously.

  She turned and kicked the door open, then just ran.

  Nineteen years, eleven months and twenty-five days

  Yesterday the tears never came, the terrified panic when the attack is over. The heat was too much, it grew and grew until the red became black. They say he saved my life. Mouth-to-mouth brought back the spirit that his hands had released. I can’t talk yet. The damage may be permanent. He says I got a piece of meat caught in my throat, and I can see in the eyes of the doctors that they don’t believe him. But no one asks.

  He cries on my blanket. He’s been holding my hand for hours. He prays and prays.

  If I do as he asks I will be removing the last barrier. I will be erasing what remains of my personality, there will be nothing left. He will have reached his goal. Nothing will stop him from taking the final step. And he won’t be able to call back my spirit.

  He says

  he will kill me

  if I leave.

  Monday 10 September

  72

  The lake sparkled like an icy sapphire in the morning sun. Annika was slowly walking down to the water with Whiskas at her heels. The cat leaped and danced round her feet, completely giddy with joy. She laughed and picked him up. The animal rubbed against her chin, licking her neck and purring like a little machine.

  ‘You’re the soppiest cat in the world, do you know that?’ Annika said, scratching him behind the ears.

  She put him down on the jetty and looked out across the lake. The wind, light and mild, rippled the glittering surface. Annika squinted, looking at the rocks emerge from the water on the far shore and disappear under their blanket of pine trees. In the far distance, where the lake stopped and the denser forest began, was where Old Gustav lived. She really ought to look in on him one day; it was ages since she last saw him.

  The future lay ahead of her like an unpainted water-colour. She could choose what colours and patterns to paint, how strong they should be, how deep.

  Warm and satisfying, she thought. Light and easy.

  The cat curled up in her lap and fell asleep. She shut her eyes, her fingers stroking the cat’s soft fur. She was filled with an intense feeling of happiness. This is what life should be like, she thought.

  Her grandmother called something from the cottage and Annika straightened her back and listened. Whiskas pricked his ears and jumped down from the jetty. The old woman was forming her hands into a megaphone.

  ‘Breakfast!’

  Annika jogged back up to the cottage. The cat thought they were having a race and rushed off like an idiot. When she got to the steps he jumped out of his hiding place and attacked her feet. Annika picked up the wriggling animal, burrowed her nose into his fur and blew on his stomach.

  ‘Now you’re just being silly, aren’t you!’ she said.

  Her grandmother had laid out sour milk, wild raspberries, rye bread and cheese. The smell of coffee hung in the air. Annika realized how hungry she was.

  ‘No, down you go,’ she said to the cat, who was trying to jump onto her lap.

  ‘He’s going to miss you,’ her grandmother said.

  Annika sighed. ‘I’ll come and visit often,’ she said.

  Her grandmother poured the coffee into delicate cups.

  ‘I want you to know that I think you’re doing the right thing,’ she said. ‘You need to focus on your work. Taking responsibility by making your own living gives you self-belief and satisfaction, I’ve always thought that. You shouldn’t be with a man who holds you back.’

  They ate in silence, the sun shining onto the kitchen table, making the wax-cloth soft and warm.

  ‘Are there many mushrooms?’

  Her grandmother laughed. ‘I wondered how long it would be before you asked. There are masses of them this year.’

  Annika jumped up.

  ‘I’ll go and pick some for lunch.’

  She dug out two plastic bags from the bottom drawer and hurried into the forest, with Whiskas bounding after her.

  Within the gloom of the forest she had to blink several times before she could make out the pattern of the moss. She could hardly believe her eyes. The ground was completely covered with brown mushrooms, growing in clumps of hundreds, maybe thousands at a time.

  She filled her two bags, taking less than an hour. Whiskas caught two wood mice while she was busy.

  ‘Who’s going to clean all of those?’ her grandmother said, looking horrified at the thought.

  Annika laughed and tipped the first bag onto the table.

  ‘It’s not so bad,’ she said, but as usual it took longer to clean the mushrooms than it did to pick them.

  They ate fried bread and two mountains of mushrooms for lunch.

  ‘I’m out of bread and butter now,’ her grandmother said once the washing-up was done.

  ‘I’ll cycle in and get some,’ Annika said.

  The old woman smiled. ‘That’s kind of you.’

  Annika brushed her hair and fetched her bag.

  ‘Right, now you stay with Grandma,’ she said to the cat.

  Whiskas ignored her and bounded off ahead of her towards the barrier by the road.

  ‘No,’ Annika said, picking him up and carrying him back to the cottage. ‘I’m going to be riding on the road, and you could get run over. You have to stay here.’

  The cat wriggled free and ran off into the forest. Annika sighed.

  ‘Can you shut him in when he comes back?’ she said to her grandmother. ‘I don’t want him running around on the road.’

  She strolled off towards her bike. The sun was shining low in the sky, clear and sharp. She saw the chrome of the bicycle in the distance, twinkling as it stood beside the barrier.

  Only when she got closer did she realize something was wrong. She took hold of the handlebar and leaned the bike away from her to get a better look. Both tyres had been cut to shreds, as had the saddle. She stared at it, unable to work out what had happened.

  ‘That’s just the start, you fucking whore.’

  She gasped and looked up. Sven was standing in the ditch a couple of metres away. She knew what was coming.

  ‘I’ve trashed the whole of your fucking flat,’ he said. ‘And I’ve cut up all your slut clothes.’

  He staggered, with a snort. Annika could see he was drunk. Slowly she went round the barrier without taking her eyes off him.

  ‘You’re angry, Sven,’ she said. ‘You’re drunk. You’re not yourself. Think about what you’re saying.’

  He started to cry, flailing with his arms.

  ‘You’re a SLUT and now you’re going to DIE!’

  She dropped her bag and ran. Her vision narrowed, everything went white. She raced as fast as she could, a branch hit her face, cutting her cheek, she fell, stood up again; sound, where was all the sound? Oh God, run, run. Feet thudding against soil; shit, shit, where is he? Oh God, help me!

  She ran without seeing anything, in through the trees, over the road, into the ditch, vanishing into the undergrowth. She stumbled over a tree-root and fell headfirst to the ground. Ants crawled onto her face. She shut her eyes and waited to die, but it didn’t happen. Instead came sound, the wind in the trees, her own breathing, silence.

  He isn’t following me, she thought. Then: I’ve got to find someone else. I’ve got to get help.

  She got to her feet, soundless and hesitant. She brushed off the dirt and ants, listening intently. Where was he?

  Not here, not yet. She looked around and realized she wasn’t far from Old Gustav.

  Crouching slightly, she set off, running cautiously towards Lillsjötorp. Mushrooms squashed beneath her feet. Tree-trunks flew past, brown and unyielding, scratching her hands. She jumped a stream by the abandoned sawmill.

  There it was, the red cottage through the trees, Old Gustav’s house. She straightened up and ran as fast as she could towards it.

  ‘Gustav!’ she screamed. ‘Gustav, are you
home?’

  She rushed onto the veranda and tugged at the door. Locked. She looked around, over to the woodshed where the old man spent most of his time. There was someone there, but it wasn’t Gustav.

  ‘I knew you’d come here, you whore!’

  Sven rushed towards her, holding something in his hand.

  She leaped over the railing of the veranda, landing in Gustav’s rose-bed, among the thorns and the heady scent of the flowers.

  ‘Annika, I just want to talk to you! Stop!’

  She stumbled back into the forest again, across the stream, round the marsh, but never escaping the sound of panting behind her. Her feet pounded the moss, she flew over rocks and fallen branches, tunnel vision, breathlessness, the world around her reduced to dancing fragments.

  I’m running, she thought, I’m not dead. I’m running, I’m alive, it isn’t over yet. I’ve still got a chance. Running isn’t so bad, running is the solution. I’m good at running.

  She tried to think of it as a tough training session, forcing her adrenalin into line, concentrating on breathing. Breathe, breathe! Her vision returned, the cacophony in her head faded, thoughts began to form.

  He can run faster than me, she thought. But he’s drunk and I know this forest better than him. He can run better than me on firm ground. I have to stick to the woods.

  And she turned north, away from the road. Up there were two lakes, Gorgsjön and Holmsjön, and if she ran round them she’d be able to head east, onto the Sörmland Trail, which would lead her into town behind the ironworks.

  Her legs were starting to feel numb. She’d only just eaten half a kilo of mushrooms. She forced her legs to work faster, steeling herself against the pain. She could no longer hear any panting behind her and took a quick glance over her shoulder. Trees and green, sky and rocks.

  He can take one of the forest trails and cut me off, she suddenly thought, and stopped instantly.

  Her pulse was racing, hard and fast. She listened to the sounds of the forest. Nothing, just the wind.

  Where were the forest trails?

  Something rustled behind her and she looked back, feeling panic rising again.

  Oh God, where’s the trail? There’s a trail here, where is it?

  She tried to breathe deeply, forcing herself to think. What did the trail look like?