Shadow

20

Axel, Axel, forgive me, forgive me. Let me pour out a thousand pardons over a thousand pages before I try to convince you that I deserve your forgiveness. With complete confidence I appeal to your magnanimity and beg you to give up the aversion you feel for me. I can’t change the place from which I came, only the place to which I am on my way. There I will be able to carry your benevolence like a smooth stone in my hand, a consolation when memory plagues me. How could it happen? you must have wondered. I beg you to read my words without judging. To admit a mistake, after all, is only to admit that one is wiser today than yesterday. All I want to accomplish is a farewell that allows us to part as friends, as you so sensibly said back then, when I was in no condition to listen.

A thousand and another thousand times I beg you to forget what happened outside the publisher’s, because the person you saw was me and yet it wasn’t. Since my teens I’ve suffered from a number of problems, the doctors say that the explanation lies in my experiences in the camp during my childhood. As long as I take my medication I’m the Halina you met in Västerås, the Halina to whom you gave such a beautiful memory. Our experience enriched me. It’s so easy to believe that everything is whole when the heart is joyful. Unfortunately it made me careless about taking my medication. And I ended up taking it out on you, to my great dismay. It hurts so much to be rejected, when a feeling of worthlessness already fills every part of me.

Axel, none of it was your fault. I would like so much to say farewell with these lines and tell you that everything is fine. You’re a wonderful man and writer, and I wish you all good fortune with all my heart.

Halina

Axel read the letter four times. The relief he felt made him euphoric. Since the incident, he had gone around in a daze, not knowing what was up or down, and with each day his feeling of helplessness had spread. Each time he left the room he was afraid of seeing Gerda with yet another letter; when he heard the telephone ring he feared that it was Halina. He peered out of the windows when he thought he heard unfamiliar sounds. But Halina had not got in touch again. The letter was a liberation. He had already worked out that she suffered from some sort of mental disturbance. He hadn’t been able to forget what he’d seen glinting in her eyes, and during sleepless nights he had wondered about her personality change.

Three weeks had passed, and the whole time he’d had the feeling of trying to balance on a slack rope.

Christmas came and went with its usual frenzy. The problem that had been lifted from his shoulders gave way to other concerns, and he had actually written a little, nothing very good but at least he’d managed to get something down. On Christmas Eve they had rung Jan-Erik, a brief conversation considering the cost of long distance calls to the States, but it had been worth every krona. Alice blossomed after hearing her son’s voice, and for once the Christmas holiday was quite enjoyable. On Christmas Day his parents came to visit, but his sister refused to participate, as usual. He asked about her sometimes. He knew that she lived in Farsta and was on a disability pension because of all the heavy lifting she had done in the nursing home. She had no children, and he had no idea if there was a man in her life. His parents didn’t volunteer much information, even though he knew they were in close contact with her. Once a long time ago he had asked to come along, but his sister had let him know that he was not welcome.

Twelfth Night passed and the regular routine returned before everything was ripped up again. On the ninth of January the snow came down heavily as a storm moved in over Stockholm. He was standing in the library, listening to the house resisting as the wind picked up and came in through all the cracks, causing sounds he had never heard before. As soon as he heard Gerda’s footsteps he suspected the worst. She handed him a small envelope, and without a word turned and left. There was something about her expression. He knew at once who it was from, and now he had confirmation of what he’d suspected – Gerda had known all along. He went straight into his office and ripped open the envelope so that the little H was torn off in the middle.

Thank you for your message. I promise to be there. Finally, my love!

Your Halina

He opened the cupboard and put the letter in the nearest cardboard box. Then he went to the kitchen.

‘Gerda, could I see you for a moment, please?’

He didn’t wait for an answer, just turned and went back to his office. At the door he stopped to let her pass. She entered the room, and the procedure from the previous occasion was repeated. Gerda cowering just inside the door and Axel enthroned behind his desk. Gentry and servant. Axel Ragnerfeldt and his father and mother. He didn’t know how he should behave to break the class barrier. He needed her services and she needed his money; they shared the same house. Why in God’s name couldn’t they behave as equals? He had attempted to use the familiar form of address with her at first, invited her in as a member of the family, but he’d soon been forced to realise that his behaviour was unwelcome. With almost fifty years of experience in her profession she wanted respect for her abilities, and that involved certain conditions. She had clearly demonstrated that she did not intend to become part of the family.

‘What I tell you now will remain between the two of us, and I don’t want you to discuss it with Alice because there’s no reason to upset her. Recently I’ve been contacted on several occasions by a woman, but I want nothing to do with her. She is a complete stranger and I’ve never even met her. Presumably one of my readers. You’ve probably noticed a number of strange letters arriving?’

‘I don’t know if I have.’

‘Well, in any case, I would like you to know about it. I’m rather worried that the woman in question is not in full possession of her senses.’

He wished that she would say something, ask a question. Show that she appreciated his trust and shared his concern.

But Gerda said nothing. Not a word passed her lips, and when her silence continued he realised that she had no intention of saying anything.

‘That will be all. Thank you.’

Gerda curtseyed and turned to go. At the same instant the front doorbell rang. Their eyes met and for a second he felt that they were united in some sort of conspiracy. Then the moment passed, and she was gone. Axel followed her but stopped halfway, filled with misgivings. The doorbell was rarely used; no one came to the house unannounced.

No one except Torgny Wennberg.

He heard Gerda’s voice trying to be heard over the storm.

‘I’m sorry but I can’t let you in. Mr Ragnerfeldt is busy and has asked not to be disturbed.’

‘Oh really! You mean that randy old goat Ragnerfeldt? Get out of the way. I have to talk to him.’

His voice was enough to reveal the alcohol in his bloodstream. Axel was afraid that Alice might hear him so he hurried out into the hall. Torgny was white, covered with snow. Gerda was holding onto the door handle with both hands, and the snow was whirling through the gap in the doorway. Torgny grabbed hold of the door and forced his way in. With great difficulty he managed to close the door behind him.

‘Well, look here, if it isn’t the gentleman himself, down here on earth like the rest of us.’

He bowed and threw out his arms flamboyantly. Axel shook his finger at him.

‘You need to calm down. There are people sick in bed in this house.’

Torgny squinted histrionically.

‘Is that your dick or your little finger? I can’t see any difference from here.’

‘It’s all right, Gerda. Thank you for now, I’ll take care of this. We’re just going to step outside and have a little chat.’

He hastily pulled on some shoes and a coat as Gerda left the hall.

‘You’re scared that Alice will hear, eh? That dried-up old cunt. Doesn’t she let you get any, or is she out somewhere else getting some cock? She probably gets plenty out here in this posh part sucking off the neighbours.’

‘Shut up. Let’s go outside.’

‘Aren’t you getting any grease on your prick anymore, Ragnerfeldt?’

Axel reached out his hand and pressed down the door handle behind Torgny’s back. With a crash the door flew open as it was caught by the wind, and the hall was filled with even more snow. Axel shoved him outside and pulled the door closed. They stood on the steps in the storm, huddling as best they could against the lashing snowflakes. The feeling that his life had become absurd came over Axel once again. What had happened recently was beyond his usual experience. Here he was standing with Torgny Wennberg in a blizzard outside his house, realising that they would have to have a discussion to put an end to all this misery, but he also knew that they couldn’t stay there. The wind was so strong they had to hold on to something. The only good thing about the storm was that it had finally shut Torgny up; he hadn’t said a word since they’d come outside.

‘Come on, let’s go over to the woodshed.’

He started walking and Torgny followed him. With one hand gripping his coat collar and the other shielding his eyes, Axel trudged towards the little shed. The snow had settled in a drift in front of the door, and Axel pushed it aside with his foot while undoing the lock. He let Torgny inside along with a flurry of snow and closed the door behind them. They stamped a few times, brushed off the worst of the snow, but the raw cold in the shed cut through their clothing and shoes. Torgny’s beard was white and his face blazing red, his breath billowing like smoke from his mouth. Axel rubbed his hands. Neither of them said a word. The hostile tone had lost its way somewhere out in the storm; now they were two freezing men with a common foe. Of course, the feeling of ‘we’ was never greater than when the powers of nature were threatening. The cold had sobered up Torgny and he suddenly looked embarrassed.

What Axel wanted could take many forms. More than anything he wanted to put an end to the entire episode, but not if it meant that he’d have to admit what he’d done in Västerås. The memory was now associated with so much denial he was no longer sure it had really happened.

Torgny shivered and sank down on a pile of wood that was stacked against the wall.

‘Couldn’t you at least have let me come into the house? Do I have to sit here and be humiliated in a shed?’

The wind whistled through the cracks in the wall, rising and falling in a desolate wail, echoing their mood. Torgny looked around, grabbed hold of a log and absentmindedly weighed it in his hand. He was so cold he was shivering, but was feigning nonchalance with bravura.

‘That would have been more proper, considering the circumstances, don’t you think? But what the hell. You win, brother, I give up. Are you finally satisfied? Or is there something else you want to steal from me?’

Axel stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and pressed his arms to his body.

‘You understand, don’t you, that I couldn’t let you in. Not while you were ranting like that. Yes, I admit that I didn’t want Alice to hear the way you were carrying on.’

‘So she doesn’t know yet? When were you planning to announce the happy news?’

Axel said nothing. Torgny dropped the log to the floor and folded his arms. With his head cocked he stared at Axel as if evaluating an incomprehensible art object.

‘I never would have believed it of you, Axel, that you were capable of acting like an ordinary human. I thought you were happy out here in the suburbs, with your elegant house and your old lady, your perfect kids and maid and all that. She really must have turned your head around.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘All the success, your reputation, you’ve got everything. I never would have thought you’d give up all that just because your bollocks twitched a bit.’

‘Why don’t you come out and say what you mean before we both freeze to death?’

Torgny snorted a humourless laugh and picked up another log.

‘So, when are you going to tell the family?’

Axel felt that his limit had been reached.

‘Tell them what? Say what? it is you want, because I’m going back inside.’

‘You’re going to have hell to pay, you know that? When she doesn’t take her medication it’s like she’s possessed by the Devil. Good luck is all I can say, I’m glad to be rid of that bit.’

Axel could no longer feel his feet. The more Torgny kept talking, the more he realised the conversation was going to be lengthy. He sized up the situation and decided.

‘I presume it’s that Halina or whatever her name is we’re talking about? You make it sound as though we were planning some sort of future together. I don’t know what you two are up to, or what she may have told you, but I’m completely sure I don’t have the slightest thing to do with any of this.’

What he said was not, strictly speaking, a lie, and the truth gave him courage. When he saw the confusion appear on Torgny’s face, he grew even more confident.

‘I find this situation incredibly unpleasant, and I wish you would explain to me once and for all why I’m standing in my woodshed about to freeze to death.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘You heard me.’

‘You mean you haven’t proposed to Halina?’

‘No, I certainly have not.’

Torgny was silent for a moment.

‘But you have a relationship?’

‘Good Lord, Torgny. No, we do not. If you promise to keep your voice to a normal level, we can go inside and talk some more.’

Torgny was lost in thought. Axel assumed that he was doing his best to re-examine the situation. When he spoke again he did so softly and deliberately.

‘If you’re lying to me, I swear I’m going to kill you the day I find out the truth.’

Axel swallowed. But his words would always carry more weight than those of a woman with mental health problems. No matter what sort of claims she tried to make.

‘What more do you want me to say? Come on, let’s go inside.’

‘No, I’m not going inside.’

Torgny closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his beard.

‘Christ, she said that you two had it off back in Västerås while I was asleep on the sofa.’

Axel said nothing.

‘Then she’s sick again, running around somewhere. She packed up her things and took off. She said you were going to meet each other somewhere. She’s been going on about you ever since we were at that Book Day event in Västerås, so I believed her. I should have known there was something wrong. The other day she imagined that she’d got some sort of message in the newspaper. She didn’t want to say what it was, but she was convinced it was for her. I tried to make sense of it but I couldn’t find anything.’

He shook his head slowly.

‘And she has the boy with her too.’

‘What boy?’

‘She has a son a few years old. He’s not mine or anything, but I’ve grown quite fond of him. She doesn’t treat him very well when she’s ill.’

Axel no longer had any feeling in his hands.

‘We have to go in before one of us catches pneumonia.’

‘Damn it, Axel, I think I should apologise for what I said in there. Can we go inside and I’ll explain. Then there won’t be any more trouble about this whole thing.’

Axel’s immediate instinct was to turn down the offer, but he realised it might solve all his problems. If Alice had heard what Torgny said, nothing Axel could say would help. On the other hand, she would surely listen to Torgny. And Gerda would be given proof of his innocence.

‘Actually I’d be grateful if you would.’

Gerda and Alice were sitting on the sofa in the living room. Gerda perched on the very edge after being persuaded to sit down. It was Axel who insisted that she be included. Axel sat in the armchair with a blanket draped over his lap, and Torgny stood before them and made his little speech. Deeply humiliated, he apologised for his behaviour, begging them to forget what they’d heard in his unforgivable outburst in the hall. Alice’s expression was inscrutable. Axel glanced at her occasionally but couldn’t work out how much she’d caught of the insults. Torgny stumbled on, fumbling unhappily for words that would make amends for overstepping the mark.

‘It was stupid of me. Now I see that I got everything back to front. I was stupid enough to believe what she said. Unfortunately she has problems with her nerves. She’s a wonderful woman, but the past haunts her sometimes, and she has been known to imagine things. I didn’t think it was true this time, but I’m ashamed to say I did come to believe her. I realise that I accused Axel with no justification whatsoever, and I sincerely beg his forgiveness.’

Torgny took a deep breath, and Axel could not help being impressed by his recapitulation. He knew how hard this was for him, to be forced to denigrate himself. A vein in his temple pulsated, revealing his inner turmoil.

Only now did Axel understand how strong Torgny’s love must be, since he was prepared to undergo this humiliation and still defend her. The depth he had never suspected in Torgny was suddenly exposed, the need for love from which all creativity issues.

Alice, who so far had been fidgeting restlessly, stood up.

‘If I’ve understood this correctly, right now a mentally ill woman is running around who is in love with Axel and thinks that they’re a couple. Is that right?’

‘She isn’t seriously ill, and I have no idea why she said this about Axel. Maybe it was simply to hurt me.’

‘Either way, I think we should call the police. I have absolutely no desire to sit here waiting for some madwoman to show up. Who knows what she’s capable of doing?’

Axel put a hand on Alice’s arm.

‘Now, now, calm down.’

‘There’s no need to call the police. She’ll probably be at home by the time I get back, and if not I promise to find her. You don’t have to be the least bit afraid. There’s a greater risk that she might injure herself.’

Alice sat back down.

‘But why Axel, in particular?’

Torgny shrugged.

‘Perhaps because we met him in Västerås, I don’t know.’

Alice turned to Axel.

‘So you have met her?’

‘Yes, we talked a bit during dinner, that’s all.’

Axel looked at Gerda. He realised at once he’d made a mistake. For the first time during the conversation she looked up and stared straight at him. He lowered his eyes, but the damage was done. From her expression he was clearly able to read what she was thinking, and it had nothing to do with what he’d said. He had given himself away with his anxious glance.

‘As I said, I simply want to apologise. I should probably go straight home and see whether she’s turned up.’

Gerda jumped up from the sofa and preceded Torgny out to the hall. Axel stood up to follow them, but Alice stopped him.

‘If I see any sign of that woman I’m going to call the police. What does she look like?’

‘Quite ordinary-looking, dark brown hair, average height. It’ll all work out, Alice, she obviously just needs to take her medication. When she takes it she’s apparently as normal as anyone else.’

Alice snorted.

‘As anyone else? As if that’s supposed to be reassuring.’

Axel said goodbye to Torgny and for safety’s sake locked the door. The blizzard seemed to have abated, but the wind was still blowing hard. Through the hall window he saw Torgny struggling through the snow. Alice disappeared upstairs, and he wondered whether he should follow her, but he decided not to. He could hear sounds from the kitchen, and after a brief pause he went in and sat down at the kitchen table. Gerda stood with her back to him, busy with something on the worktop. Her hands moved efficiently after many years of practice.

‘I have a feeling you don’t really believe what I said.’

Gerda spun round as if she hadn’t heard him come in.

‘Gosh, you gave me a fright.’

Axel sighed and gave her a little smile.

‘Can’t we start talking to each other as friends, once and for all, after all these years?’

Gerda didn’t reply; uncharacteristically she turned her back and went on with her chores. She pulled out a drawer and grabbed a whisk. She cracked two eggs on the edge of a bowl and began expertly whisking them.

‘We’re equals, you and I, Gerda. I don’t see why we can’t just treat each other that way. I’m good at writing and you’re good at what you do, so why do we have to make it so difficult?’

Gerda didn’t answer, but he could hear the motion of the whisk slow down slightly. Once again he felt the similarity to the conversations he’d had with his parents, as if his words were no longer comprehensible but took on a different meaning in their ears than they’d had in his mouth.

‘Gerda, please, won’t you at least talk to me?’

The whisk stopped abruptly. Axel looked at her back.

‘We’re not equals.’

She spoke so softly he had to strain to hear.

‘Yes, Gerda, we are.’

He saw her shoulders rise and fall with her breathing.

‘I know what I have to do, and I do it the best I can. That’s that.’

‘There, you see? That’s the way it is for me too. I just do what I do the best I can.’

In the silence that followed, everything lay open. For eighteen years they had shared this life. For the first time they were having a real conversation. He couldn’t quite grasp why it felt so important, but it did.

‘We’re not equals.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

She still had her back turned away from him.

‘Because I’m content and you’re not. You’re always chasing after what you imagine you could become.’

Gerda went back to whisking, marking the end of their talk. Axel sat speechless, contemplating her words. And he realised that he’d received the most serious insult of his life.

A week later and they all resumed their respective roles in the house. Everything returned to normal. Gerda took care of the housekeeping. Annika did her schoolwork. Axel struggled on with his novel, to no avail. What Alice was doing he had no idea, but she mostly stayed in the library, dressed in her customary dressing gown. They didn’t hear a peep from Torgny. He’d promised to ring as soon as he knew something, but apparently Halina was still missing. Then, on the seventh day, another letter appeared, and it turned out to be the beginning of a daily routine. Each morning a new envelope landed in the letter-box, and Gerda delivered them to his office without comment. Alice was not informed. On a few occasions she asked whether there had been any word from Torgny, and Axel was able to say truthfully that there had not. He put the letters unopened in his cupboard. If anything untoward were to happen, it was a good idea to save the letters as proof of her madness. And as with anything that goes on long enough, the whole thing soon became a habit; the letters were received with the same matter-of-factness as the morning paper.

February turned to March, and the world went its way.

Israel attacked Palestinian guerrillas in Lebanon, and in Mjölby 14 people died in a train crash. The king appealed to the media to respect his private life, and Iraqi forces put down the Kurds’ fight for freedom. U.S. Secretary of State Kissinger tried to mediate in the Middle East, but Egypt refused to go along with any demands as long as Israel occupied Arab land. Researchers feared that we were heading for a new ice age, Ingemar Stenmark won the World Cup, and it was claimed that the CIA had compiled a hit list of foreign heads of state, with Fidel Castro at the top.

Nothing much new under the sun.

It was April 1975.