Like other mummies.’
Eden felt the colour rising in her cheeks.
‘Like other mummies? Would we even be having this discussion if I was a man?’
‘Too bloody right we would.’
How many times had she seen Mikael really angry? Not very many. Very few, in fact. And their relationship had even survived the move from Britain to Sweden, and the birth of twins.
But he was angry now. Furious. Almost more furious than the time when . . . Eden didn’t want to go there. She had sinned once. A serious transgression. If Mikael hadn’t been a
priest, she was sure he would have left her.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. But there’s some really major stuff going on at work right now, which means I find it bloody hard to tell myself I have to go home
early just because a child is crying.’
‘Not
a
child, Eden.
Your
child.’
‘Okay, but at the end of the day, from a wider perspective, it’s a very minor matter. The girls have to learn that they’re not the most important thing in the world for
everyone.’
She heard Mikael take a deep breath.
‘I don’t think they want everyone’s attention. Yours would be enough.’
She wanted to protest, tell him that the world didn’t work that way, but she was too tired to argue and too hungry to waste any more time on bickering.
In silence she slid the plate of food into the microwave and waited for it to heat up.
‘And how was your day?’ she asked her husband.
‘Good. I had my first meeting with a group preparing for confirmation; they were like all the rest, I suppose. Not very interested on the surface, but deep down they’re very
confused.’
A confirmation group. Eden liked hearing about that kind of thing. Mikael’s confirmation group formed a nice counterbalance to her terrorists. He carried on talking as she ate. She
didn’t tell him anything about how she had spent her day. She had noticed that Mikael was following the trial on the news, but fortunately he hadn’t asked her any questions. Mikael was
a priest; he wouldn’t understand why someone like Zakaria Khelifi had to be deported.
Eden sat at the table with her plate in front of her, chewing and swallowing. Everything had gone smoothly. Zakaria Khelifi had been taken into custody, and in just over a week he would be on
his way home to Algeria, escorted by the Swedish police.
Everything was as it should be. Justice had been done.
The house was silent. Diana was asleep, and Alex Recht was alone in his office. The intensity of his working day had made it impossible to sleep; he felt wide awake.
Diana’s lovely smile shone out at him from a photograph on his desk.
The children had accepted Diana right away. His daughter had wept when he finally managed to come out with the fact that he had met someone.
‘I’m really, really happy for you,’ she had said.
Alex got a lump in his throat when he remembered her words. And he still felt like crying when he thought about Lena, the mother of his children, the woman with whom he had thought he would
spend the rest of his life. But we don’t always get what we want. Things don’t always turn out the way we expect. He knew that now, and he had to fight to stop himself from being
destroyed by the fear of losing everything all over again. Lena was still with him. In a photograph with the children. Taken during the last summer of her life.
If you just glanced at the picture, you couldn’t see that anything was wrong. You didn’t notice Lena’s tired eyes, or how much weight she had lost. And you didn’t see the
shadow of fear on the face of both his son and daughter. His daughter was smiling as usual, but Alex knew what she looked like when she was happy, and what she looked like when she wasn’t. In
the photograph, she looked positively devastated.
And his son. With his hair standing on end as if he was a teenager, and an expression so angry that it made Alex shudder. They had never been able to communicate, not without falling out
Eden felt the colour rising in her cheeks.
‘Like other mummies? Would we even be having this discussion if I was a man?’
‘Too bloody right we would.’
How many times had she seen Mikael really angry? Not very many. Very few, in fact. And their relationship had even survived the move from Britain to Sweden, and the birth of twins.
But he was angry now. Furious. Almost more furious than the time when . . . Eden didn’t want to go there. She had sinned once. A serious transgression. If Mikael hadn’t been a
priest, she was sure he would have left her.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. But there’s some really major stuff going on at work right now, which means I find it bloody hard to tell myself I have to go home
early just because a child is crying.’
‘Not
a
child, Eden.
Your
child.’
‘Okay, but at the end of the day, from a wider perspective, it’s a very minor matter. The girls have to learn that they’re not the most important thing in the world for
everyone.’
She heard Mikael take a deep breath.
‘I don’t think they want everyone’s attention. Yours would be enough.’
She wanted to protest, tell him that the world didn’t work that way, but she was too tired to argue and too hungry to waste any more time on bickering.
In silence she slid the plate of food into the microwave and waited for it to heat up.
‘And how was your day?’ she asked her husband.
‘Good. I had my first meeting with a group preparing for confirmation; they were like all the rest, I suppose. Not very interested on the surface, but deep down they’re very
confused.’
A confirmation group. Eden liked hearing about that kind of thing. Mikael’s confirmation group formed a nice counterbalance to her terrorists. He carried on talking as she ate. She
didn’t tell him anything about how she had spent her day. She had noticed that Mikael was following the trial on the news, but fortunately he hadn’t asked her any questions. Mikael was
a priest; he wouldn’t understand why someone like Zakaria Khelifi had to be deported.
Eden sat at the table with her plate in front of her, chewing and swallowing. Everything had gone smoothly. Zakaria Khelifi had been taken into custody, and in just over a week he would be on
his way home to Algeria, escorted by the Swedish police.
Everything was as it should be. Justice had been done.
The house was silent. Diana was asleep, and Alex Recht was alone in his office. The intensity of his working day had made it impossible to sleep; he felt wide awake.
Diana’s lovely smile shone out at him from a photograph on his desk.
The children had accepted Diana right away. His daughter had wept when he finally managed to come out with the fact that he had met someone.
‘I’m really, really happy for you,’ she had said.
Alex got a lump in his throat when he remembered her words. And he still felt like crying when he thought about Lena, the mother of his children, the woman with whom he had thought he would
spend the rest of his life. But we don’t always get what we want. Things don’t always turn out the way we expect. He knew that now, and he had to fight to stop himself from being
destroyed by the fear of losing everything all over again. Lena was still with him. In a photograph with the children. Taken during the last summer of her life.
If you just glanced at the picture, you couldn’t see that anything was wrong. You didn’t notice Lena’s tired eyes, or how much weight she had lost. And you didn’t see the
shadow of fear on the face of both his son and daughter. His daughter was smiling as usual, but Alex knew what she looked like when she was happy, and what she looked like when she wasn’t. In
the photograph, she looked positively devastated.
And his son. With his hair standing on end as if he was a teenager, and an expression so angry that it made Alex shudder. They had never been able to communicate, not without falling out
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