Fire, page 20
Why can’t I ever keep my mouth shut? Linnéa thinks.
She mustn’t even look at Vanessa. She is terrified that Vanessa will understand that Linnéa read that thought and perhaps think that she was listening in on purpose.
The doorbell rings
‘Back soon,’ Linnéa says as she gets up.
There are only a few people who are likely to turn up without warning at Linnéa’s front door, and she doesn’t want to meet any of them.
And especially not the woman who stands outside on the landing. Her hair is a bleached blonde and she has a small, glittering stone in her pierced nostril.
Diana from social services.
‘Hello, Linnéa,’ she says.
Her face carries that concerned look. It terrifies Linnéa.
It’s something about Dad, she thinks. Whatever else would make Diana call on a Sunday afternoon?
‘May I come in?’
‘Of course,’ Linnéa replies and steps back from the door.
Diana walks straight in, doesn’t even take her trainers off. It is unlike her. Linnéa follows, stops to pick a jacket up from the floor and hang it on a hook.
Usually, she tidies up for hours before Diana’s visits, airs the flat to get rid of the smoke, polishes every spot of toothpaste from the bathroom mirror, exterminates every trace of dust balls and carries on until the entire flat is a monument to Linnéa’s capacity for clean living, good taste and neatness. And now it’s like a bomb has hit it.
Vanessa looks up when they enter the living room.
‘So you have a visitor,’ Diana says.
‘Diana, this is Vanessa. A friend from school.’
Diana holds out her hand and says hello.
‘Linnéa and I must talk in private,’ she announces.
‘Yes, of course,’ Vanessa says. ‘I was on my way home anyway.’ She glances quickly at Linnéa. ‘See you.’
‘Sure, see you,’ Linnéa says. The super-sharp electric whisk is back, churning her heart to mush.
Diana settles down on the sofa. Scans the flat. Linnéa takes the smoking cigarette from the ashtray and puts it out.
‘She didn’t look very happy,’ Diana says.
‘Her boyfriend left her a couple of weeks ago,’ Linnéa replies.
‘And you’ve had a little party here together?’ Diana continues, as she slowly examines the room.
Linnéa feels even more ill at ease, if that’s at all possible. What is this meeting supposed to be about?
‘She might have, for all I know,’ Linnéa says. ‘Not me. I don’t do “partying” any more.’
Diana’s nose-jewel glitters when she turns her head to look straight at Linnéa.
‘Would you trouble yourself to explain why you’ve opted out of our last three meetings?’
It takes a moment before Linnéa even understands the meaning of what she has said. It feels like being in one of those stage performances in nightmares, when you’re the only one who doesn’t know the lines.
‘But … you cancelled the visits,’ Linnéa says.
Diana bends her neck a little sideways. Looks even more concerned. Linnéa senses an approaching panic attack. Unlike all the other soc-ladies, Diana has always stood up for Linnéa. It is thanks to her that Linnéa was allowed to live in a flat on her own instead of being bundled off to another foster home.
But the flat arrived in a package together with iron-clad rules about immaculate conduct. A single mistake could be enough for the whole arrangement to collapse.
‘Our latest meeting was due last Friday,’ Diana says.
‘But they phoned from the social. Someone said you were off ill. First, it was food poisoning. And then flu. I was waiting to hear how you were.’
Linnéa realises all of it sounds like worthless excuses.
‘Please, Linnéa. No barefaced lies.’
‘No, I’m not lying …’
‘I have not been ill at all, so why should someone phone and tell you so? On the other hand, I’ve left several messages on your voicemail and sent out notes which you have not responded to.’
Linnéa mustn’t lose control now. The mere thought makes her feel even more panicky. She tries to sound calm and sensible. Adult. Responsible.
‘I have not received any messages. Or any notes. Diana, please, you must believe me.’
‘Is it this Vanessa who made you throw parties?’
‘What parties?’
‘Your neighbours have complained. What they say, in short, is that there has been non-stop mayhem. Even during weekday nights, and lasting well into the early hours.’
‘But I’ve hardly got any neighbours!’ Linnéa exclaims.
‘So, you are not denying the parties?’
‘Of course I am!’
Diana sighs.
Linnéa is suddenly aware of how heavily she is breathing. Diana must listen to her, must believe her. She always has in the past.
‘You insist that you are completely innocent?’ Diana asks.
‘Yes, I do.’
Diana’s mouth tightens into a thin, straight line. Wrong answer.
‘In other words, I am lying to you?’
‘No, of course not. But maybe there’s someone who hasn’t told you the truth …’
‘I see. You suggest there has been some sort of conspiracy?’
The nightmare is becoming worse and worse. Linnéa attempts to read Diana’s mind; it isn’t possible, her own panic overwhelms her, she can’t concentrate.
‘If you will not tell me the truth, I cannot help you,’ Diana says and gets up.
Linnéa also gets up and follows Diana into the hall.
‘This is a misunderstanding,’ Linnéa says. ‘Please give me a chance to prove it.’
Diana stops at the door and turns to her.
‘It’s always somebody else’s fault, isn’t that so? I like you, Linnéa. But I will not help you by letting you get away with this. You will have to learn to take responsibility for your own actions. You have reached a watershed. You will have to choose. See to it that you make the right choice.’
After Diana has left, Linnéa stands in the hall for a long while. She wants to scream out loud, throw things at the walls, break something, tear something to pieces. Everything that she must not do.
29
Bahar parks her roller-case on the platform and gives Minoo a long, warm hug.
‘Dokhtare azizam,’ she says. ‘Take care, now. And we’ll meet again very soon, I hope.’
‘I hope so, too,’ Minoo replies and really means it.
She doesn’t want Bahar to leave. It’s true that the atmosphere has been tense and weird during her visit, but at least Mum and Dad have behaved in a civilised way to each other.
Bahar turns to her sister and hugs her for even longer, whispers something in her ear. When they let each other go, both have tears in their eyes. They clasp each other’s hands one last time and then Bahar climbs on board the train.
The doors shut with a shushing sound, the wheels start turning. Minoo and her mum stand and watch until the train has vanished from sight.
The silence between them is paralysing. It follows them into the car and stays with them all the way as they drive from the station.
Mum parks a short distance from the school and switches the engine off. She faces Minoo and visibly pulls herself together. As if she is finally ready to speak the truth.
But that glued-on smile comes back on her face instead.
How can she believe that I’m tricked by that smile of hers? Minoo thinks. She who’s always on about how one mustn’t suppress one’s emotions?
‘There now, have a nice day, Minoo.’
Suddenly, Minoo isn’t prepared to put up with this charade for a second longer.
‘Are you getting divorced?’ she asks.
Mum looks shocked. It makes Minoo even more furious. Did she imagine that this conversation could be avoided for ever?
‘What is going on between you?’ she asks when her mum doesn’t answer.
‘This is something for your father and me—’
‘And Bahar.’
Mum goes rigid.
‘Has she spoken to you?’
‘No, she hasn’t, but it’s so obvious that she knows. And that Dad knows that she knows. Why should Bahar have a better grip on what happens in our family than I have?’
Minoo feels tears welling up. But she is not going to let herself go. She needs to demonstrate that she is strong enough to cope with the truth.
‘I didn’t want to burden you with all this,’ Mum says.
‘Don’t you realise that this is a burden? You refuse to let me know anything about what the real issues are. I am simply meant to accept that you two fight all the time. I do live in the same house as you. In case you hadn’t noticed.’
Mum’s hand clutches the steering wheel so hard her knuckles go white.
‘My dearest child …’ she says and her voice breaks. She is silent for a moment and then tries again. ‘I understand you, of course. I truly do. And I’ll tell you what there is to know. You are quite right to say that it affects you, too. Affects you very much. But I had to try sorting it all out in my own mind and that is why I spoke to Bahar. I can promise you one thing. The problems are entirely between your dad and me, it is not your fault—’
Minoo interrupts her.
‘Of course it isn’t! Do you think I’m a five-year-old, or what? I can’t go on with things being like this. Fix your problems, go into therapy, whatever! Or just get a divorce!’
‘Minoo …’
But Minoo throws the car door open and sets out to walk to school. She swallows her tears, swallows the hurt, the guilt and the anger. Swallows and swallows until the whole mess has become a hard little lump in her chest.
When she reaches the schoolyard, her first thought is that she must have missed something. Is it some kind of theme day?
Pupils in bright yellow polo shirts are clustered at the main entrance. Some of them are talking excitedly. Others are handing out flyers and stickers. Somebody has tied yellow helium balloons along the stair railings. More balloons are floating about, tied to the top bar of the solitary football goal and to the branches of the dead trees.
It doesn’t dawn on Minoo what it is all about until she recognises Rickard among the yellow-shirted crowd.
‘Minoo!’ Linnéa shouts.
She is just coming through the gate.
And she is the complete opposite of the army of baby chickens at the school entrance. Black hair, back-combed and held by a large bow made from a ribbon of black lace. Short black dress, torn net stockings and black ankle boots. Whole lakes of black make-up around her eyes.
‘Yay, Positive Engelsfors,’ Linnéa says disgustedly as they walk towards the entrance. ‘Their reproduction rate must be something else.’
Minoo tries to avoid the collective gaze of the yellow hordes as she and Linnéa come closer to the stairs. She is still feeling raw after the exchange in the car. Defenceless. Without any filters between herself and the rest of the world.
‘Hello and welcome to the first day of the rest of your lives!’ a rather good-looking guy says as he tries to push a flyer into Minoo’s hand.
‘No, thanks,’ she says.
He beams at her.
‘Why such a gloomy face? Have you had lemons for breakfast?’
‘This is a bad day, that’s all.’
‘Only you yourself can change that!’
‘Give over, Mehmet. And do your bit by shutting up,’ Linnéa says.
‘Bad attitude, guys!’ someone shouts at them as they enter the school.
Minoo and Linnéa look at each other.
‘The first day of the rest of our lives?’ Linnéa says. ‘Seriously?’
‘Sounds like a threat,’ Minoo says.
Linnéa laughs and Minoo smiles. The jagged lump in her chest softens a little.
‘Where are these people going?’ Linnéa asks.
Minoo looks around and notices for the first time that around her and Linnéa people are drifting towards the assembly hall.
Except for that blue-haired girl. She is walking towards them.
‘Linnéa!’ she calls.
Her white foundation doesn’t manage to hide the dark rings under her eyes. In fact, it enhances them. It might actually be the idea. She is wearing a long black T-shirt. On the chest, the words ‘THE GOOD DIE YOUNG’ are written in red, blood-spattered letters. The print looks home-made.
‘Hi, Olivia,’ Linnéa says. She suddenly sounds weary.
‘Oh, hi,’ says Olivia without looking at Minoo. ‘The first lesson today is cancelled – there’s some kind of event in the assembly hall.’
Minoo exchanges a glance with Linnéa. Could it have something to do with Adriana?
‘They say everybody has got to be there, like, it’s compulsory, but they probably won’t check,’ Olivia continues. ‘Wanna leave?’
‘Can’t,’ Linnéa says.
Olivia lifts her vigorously pencilled-in eyebrows.
‘Diana is after me,’ Linnéa says. ‘From now on, I’ve got to be a good girl every single second.’
Olivia stares crossly at Minoo, as if she blames her for her bad influence making Linnéa refuse to skive off school. Then she walks away without saying another word.
Minoo and Linnéa go with the flow. The assembly hall is almost full and the only free seats are in the front rows. They sneak into the fourth row, just behind Vanessa and her friends.
When they settle down, Vanessa turns round.
‘Do you know what this is in aid of?
‘No,’ Minoo says.
Vanessa looks at Linnéa.
‘How did things work out yesterday?’ she asks. ‘I tried to get hold of you—’
‘I can’t bear talking about it,’ Linnéa interrupts without looking up.
‘Fine by me.’ Vanessa sounds fed up and turns away from them.
Minoo glances at Linnéa, who is absently fiddling with one of her cuticles.
Minoo wonders what has happened. She doesn’t dare ask. When Linnéa is in a mood, silence is the safest policy.
The yellow polo shirts march in and fill the half-empty front rows. There are more of them than just the group Minoo saw at the entrance. At least half of Engelsfors FC has changed their red-and-white colours for yellow. Minoo searches the lines and notices Kevin among them, but thankfully not Gustaf.
Applause starts up in the front rows when Tommy Ekberg steps out on the stage. For once, he is wearing a shirt that doesn’t cause migraine straight away. He looks confused, as if uncertain whether to take the applause as ironic or genuinely encouraging. When he steps up to the lectern, the clapping stops abruptly. He clears his throat and leans towards the microphone. The spotlights make his bald head shine.
‘Hello everyone. I don’t know if the rumour has got around already … But, I regret that I have to confirm the fact that our principal, Adriana Lopez, has left us …’
A murmur fills the hall and Tommy Ekberg seems to suddenly realise his unhappy choice of words because he adds, speaking more loudly: ‘No, no! What I meant to say was that she has left her post. For personal reasons. I am acting principal until … yes, well, simply until further notice.’
He strokes the back of his hand across his temple as if to wipe away drops of sweat. At least he doesn’t seem to take pleasure in his new power.
‘But I believe that, as with everything else that happens in one’s life, it is important to see this change, not as negative, but instead as the beginning of a new and exciting stage. We must be forward-thinking. Together! And that is why we are all gathered here today. All of us at Engelsfors senior school have joined in a unique collaborative project with a unique organisation. Our school will offer a positive way forward. And this new spirit of ours will inspire everything we teach, from social sciences, to sports, to mathematics.’
He takes a deep breath.
‘However, in maths we must surely still use negative numbers,’ he adds, with a spasmodic wink.
Minoo wishes she had an I-am-embarrassed pillow to hide behind.
But the front rows laugh enthusiastically. Tommy looks more cheerful.
‘And now, it is time for me to hand over to a pro! Ladies and gentlemen! I have the honour to present the lady who fired the shot that started the new future for Engelsfors – Helena Malmgren!’
30
Vanessa has come across Elias’s mother a couple of times in the past, at end-of-term events and at Melvin’s christening. She is the kind of person you remember, the kind whose face becomes etched into your memory.
But now, as she walks out on the stage wearing a yellow tunic over her jeans, her charisma seems to have been turned up several notches. It is somehow impossible not to look at her.
The yellow shirts start to applaud and shout happily. Helena stops at the centre of the stage. Smiles. Her acolytes fall silent, as if on an agreed signal.
A giggly exchange of whispers can be heard from one of the back rows. Rickard stands and looks in that direction. The chatter ends abruptly and Rickard sits down again.
‘Hi,’ Helena says and looks out over the crowd, now dead silent.
Her smile broadens.
‘Listen, everyone! I said “hi”!’
A fragmented ‘hi’ from here and there.
‘And again! You can do better than that,’ Helena says. ‘Hi!’
She spreads her arms towards the crowd and it responds strongly, in unison.
‘HI!’
Vanessa discovers that she has joined the shouting.
‘That’s the sound!’ Helena says. ‘But now we’ll kick-start the energy in this hall. Stand up, everyone!’
Vanessa glances wearily at Evelina and Michelle who are sitting to her left. They get up, like everybody else. The folding seats rattle.
‘Once again, now!’ Helena calls out. ‘Hi!’
‘HI!’ responds the hall.
‘Hi!’
‘HI!’
Up on the stage, Helena begins to clap her hands in a steady beat. The yellow rows follow her and soon the entire Engelsfors senior school claps in the same rhythm.
Vanessa, too. But not very hard.
