inertia prevented him from entering the room. A passive moment, nothing that needed to be thought, done or felt.
A pause before everything would become clear.
He had an intense urge to close the door again, wishing he hadn’t seen that the room was illuminated by a candle fluttering in the gust of air from the door he had just opened, sending its light flickering across the wall.
A hand on his shoulder cut off all possibility of escape and brought him back to what the future held. He turned his head and looked into Dr Sahlstedt’s sad face. The unwelcome touch of the doctor’s hand forced him forward and the next instant he saw her.
The room clean and tidy. Only the bed with Anna, the white sheets tucked in. The probes and tubes gone and all the machines rolled out to patients who still needed them.
Dr Sahlstedt went over to her.
‘She had an embolism around four o’clock.’
Around four o’clock.
When he had been lying with his lips against Linda’s skin.
‘There was nothing we could do.’
He had lain there naked with all the desire he had saved up for Anna and himself given away to another woman.
He went over and sank down on the edge of the bed but couldn’t bring himself to touch her. His hands were incontrovertible proof.
‘Shall I leave you alone for a moment?’
He didn’t answer, but he heard Dr Sahlstedt’s steps cross the floor and the door shut.
Her hands crossed on her breast. The claw-like left hand trying to clutch the other. On her throat a white compress over the hole left by the respirator tube.
* * *
For a single evening he had left her alone, and then she seized her chance. She must have understood. Somehow she must have known that he was with another woman, and this was her punishment. For two years and five months she had lain here biding her time, waiting for the right moment when her revenge would hit him hardest. She had left him, once and for all, and she had chosen the moment with care.
He would never be forgiven. Her punishment was to never forgive him. The rest of his life he would have to live with the knowledge that she never ever forgave him for what he did.
He stood up and looked at the body in the bed. So much time he had spent winning her love. And all he had in return was her betrayal.
He could swear that he saw a smile on her lips. She lay there thinking that she had won, that she got her revenge. As if all he had done for her was not enough to absolve the guilt.
‘I don’t need you. Do you hear that, you whore? I’ve met a real woman, a woman who loves me for who I am and not like you . . . like you . . . who can only feel love as a game, as something to amuse oneself with as long as there’s nothing more interesting going on.’
The sudden rage he felt surged through him and he spat out the words. He had to get her to react, make her understand that she had no more power over him, that she had not succeeded.
The door opened behind him and he turned around. Dr Sahlstedt came back, this time accompanied by the Monster Psychotherapist. They stopped abruptly inside the doorway and looked at him expectantly.
‘How are you doing?’
It was the woman with the piercing eyes who was speaking to him. She had on the same red jumper and stupid plastic necklace as the day before. The three neon pens in her breast pocket left him completely unmoved.
He smiled at her.
‘Let me tell you something. That necklace you’re wearing. You know, it’s probably the ugliest fucking necklace I’ve ever seen.’
Dr Sahlstedt stared at him. Yvonne Palmgren wasn’t so easily startled. She took a couple of steps to the foot of the bed.
‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
He smiled again.
‘Are you?’
He turned to the bed table and blew out the candle.
‘She does have a brother somewhere in Australia, but I don’t know how much grief he’s going to feel. So far, at least, he hasn’t made an appearance. I don’t know of anyone else who will care.’
Dr Sahlstedt
A pause before everything would become clear.
He had an intense urge to close the door again, wishing he hadn’t seen that the room was illuminated by a candle fluttering in the gust of air from the door he had just opened, sending its light flickering across the wall.
A hand on his shoulder cut off all possibility of escape and brought him back to what the future held. He turned his head and looked into Dr Sahlstedt’s sad face. The unwelcome touch of the doctor’s hand forced him forward and the next instant he saw her.
The room clean and tidy. Only the bed with Anna, the white sheets tucked in. The probes and tubes gone and all the machines rolled out to patients who still needed them.
Dr Sahlstedt went over to her.
‘She had an embolism around four o’clock.’
Around four o’clock.
When he had been lying with his lips against Linda’s skin.
‘There was nothing we could do.’
He had lain there naked with all the desire he had saved up for Anna and himself given away to another woman.
He went over and sank down on the edge of the bed but couldn’t bring himself to touch her. His hands were incontrovertible proof.
‘Shall I leave you alone for a moment?’
He didn’t answer, but he heard Dr Sahlstedt’s steps cross the floor and the door shut.
Her hands crossed on her breast. The claw-like left hand trying to clutch the other. On her throat a white compress over the hole left by the respirator tube.
* * *
For a single evening he had left her alone, and then she seized her chance. She must have understood. Somehow she must have known that he was with another woman, and this was her punishment. For two years and five months she had lain here biding her time, waiting for the right moment when her revenge would hit him hardest. She had left him, once and for all, and she had chosen the moment with care.
He would never be forgiven. Her punishment was to never forgive him. The rest of his life he would have to live with the knowledge that she never ever forgave him for what he did.
He stood up and looked at the body in the bed. So much time he had spent winning her love. And all he had in return was her betrayal.
He could swear that he saw a smile on her lips. She lay there thinking that she had won, that she got her revenge. As if all he had done for her was not enough to absolve the guilt.
‘I don’t need you. Do you hear that, you whore? I’ve met a real woman, a woman who loves me for who I am and not like you . . . like you . . . who can only feel love as a game, as something to amuse oneself with as long as there’s nothing more interesting going on.’
The sudden rage he felt surged through him and he spat out the words. He had to get her to react, make her understand that she had no more power over him, that she had not succeeded.
The door opened behind him and he turned around. Dr Sahlstedt came back, this time accompanied by the Monster Psychotherapist. They stopped abruptly inside the doorway and looked at him expectantly.
‘How are you doing?’
It was the woman with the piercing eyes who was speaking to him. She had on the same red jumper and stupid plastic necklace as the day before. The three neon pens in her breast pocket left him completely unmoved.
He smiled at her.
‘Let me tell you something. That necklace you’re wearing. You know, it’s probably the ugliest fucking necklace I’ve ever seen.’
Dr Sahlstedt stared at him. Yvonne Palmgren wasn’t so easily startled. She took a couple of steps to the foot of the bed.
‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
He smiled again.
‘Are you?’
He turned to the bed table and blew out the candle.
‘She does have a brother somewhere in Australia, but I don’t know how much grief he’s going to feel. So far, at least, he hasn’t made an appearance. I don’t know of anyone else who will care.’
Dr Sahlstedt
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