actually quite selfish. I realised afterwards how grateful I am that I reacted the way I did and didnât hesitate to go back down.â
The woman nodded.
âYou saved her life.â
He almost interrupted her.
âYes, I know, but itâs not just that. Itâs being aware of how you would react in a crisis situation, because you have no idea before youâre in it â thatâs something I really understood after the accident. What I mean is that Iâm incredibly thankful that I reacted the way I did.â
He smiled a little, almost embarrassed, and looked down at his lap.
âNo doubt all of us dream about being that hero when it really counts.â
Monika felt the room closing in on her.
And any second now it would be her turn to speak.
6
S he couldnât move. She was sitting on a chair and she was thin, but for some reason she couldnât move. A nauseating taste in her mouth. Something reminded her of the kitchen at home but she was surrounded by water with no horizon. There was the sound of footsteps coming closer, but she couldnât tell from where. A single urge, to run, to escape the shame; but there was something wrong with her legs so she couldnât move.
She opened her eyes. The dream was gone but not the feeling it left behind. Thin, sticky threads of her consciousness held on to it and tried in vain to put it into context.
The pillow behind her back had slipped to one side. With great effort she managed to heave herself out of bed and onto her feet. Saba raised her head to look at her but lay down again and went back to sleep.
Why had she suddenly been dreaming so much? The nights were filled with dangers, and it was hard enough to sleep sitting up without having to worry about what her mind was going to do when she relaxed her grip.
It must be the fault of that little person. The one who had been coming over lately and had such a hard time keeping her mouth shut. Maj-Britt hadnât asked to know, but Ellinor had told her anyway. Withoutbeing asked she had let the words flow out of her mouth, and every one of them had penetrated into Maj-Brittâs reluctant ears. Vanja was one of the few women in Sweden who had been sentenced to life in prison. Fifteen or sixteen years ago she had suffocated her children in their sleep, slit her husbandâs throat, and then set fire to the house where they lived in the hope of killing herself in the blaze. At least that was what she claimed afterwards, having survived with serious burns. Ellinor didnât know much more than that; the little she knew she had read in a Sunday supplement. A report on the most closely guarded women in Sweden.
But what she remembered and recounted was more than Maj-Britt ever wanted to know. And as if that werenât enough, the little person refused to stop plaguing her, trying to weasel out of her how she knew Vanja and whether she knew any more details. Naturally she hadnât replied, but it was distressing that the girl couldnât keep her mouth shut and just clean, which was the only reason she was in the flat in the first place. But she just wouldnât shut up. Such a constant stream that you might almost think her speech organs had to be kept busy for the rest of her body to function. One day she had even brought along a potted plant, a dreadful little purple thing that didnât flourish â maybe it didnât like the smell of bleach. Or else it was the subzero temperature on the balcony at night that it didnât appreciate. Ellinor insisted that she was going to complain at the shop and ask for a new one, but thankfully it didnât appear in Maj-Brittâs flat.
   Â
âIs there anything youâd like me to buy for next time, or should I just follow the usual list?â
Maj-Britt was sitting in the easy chair watching TV. One of those reality shows that were on all the time these days; this one was about a group of scantily clad
The woman nodded.
âYou saved her life.â
He almost interrupted her.
âYes, I know, but itâs not just that. Itâs being aware of how you would react in a crisis situation, because you have no idea before youâre in it â thatâs something I really understood after the accident. What I mean is that Iâm incredibly thankful that I reacted the way I did.â
He smiled a little, almost embarrassed, and looked down at his lap.
âNo doubt all of us dream about being that hero when it really counts.â
Monika felt the room closing in on her.
And any second now it would be her turn to speak.
6
S he couldnât move. She was sitting on a chair and she was thin, but for some reason she couldnât move. A nauseating taste in her mouth. Something reminded her of the kitchen at home but she was surrounded by water with no horizon. There was the sound of footsteps coming closer, but she couldnât tell from where. A single urge, to run, to escape the shame; but there was something wrong with her legs so she couldnât move.
She opened her eyes. The dream was gone but not the feeling it left behind. Thin, sticky threads of her consciousness held on to it and tried in vain to put it into context.
The pillow behind her back had slipped to one side. With great effort she managed to heave herself out of bed and onto her feet. Saba raised her head to look at her but lay down again and went back to sleep.
Why had she suddenly been dreaming so much? The nights were filled with dangers, and it was hard enough to sleep sitting up without having to worry about what her mind was going to do when she relaxed her grip.
It must be the fault of that little person. The one who had been coming over lately and had such a hard time keeping her mouth shut. Maj-Britt hadnât asked to know, but Ellinor had told her anyway. Withoutbeing asked she had let the words flow out of her mouth, and every one of them had penetrated into Maj-Brittâs reluctant ears. Vanja was one of the few women in Sweden who had been sentenced to life in prison. Fifteen or sixteen years ago she had suffocated her children in their sleep, slit her husbandâs throat, and then set fire to the house where they lived in the hope of killing herself in the blaze. At least that was what she claimed afterwards, having survived with serious burns. Ellinor didnât know much more than that; the little she knew she had read in a Sunday supplement. A report on the most closely guarded women in Sweden.
But what she remembered and recounted was more than Maj-Britt ever wanted to know. And as if that werenât enough, the little person refused to stop plaguing her, trying to weasel out of her how she knew Vanja and whether she knew any more details. Naturally she hadnât replied, but it was distressing that the girl couldnât keep her mouth shut and just clean, which was the only reason she was in the flat in the first place. But she just wouldnât shut up. Such a constant stream that you might almost think her speech organs had to be kept busy for the rest of her body to function. One day she had even brought along a potted plant, a dreadful little purple thing that didnât flourish â maybe it didnât like the smell of bleach. Or else it was the subzero temperature on the balcony at night that it didnât appreciate. Ellinor insisted that she was going to complain at the shop and ask for a new one, but thankfully it didnât appear in Maj-Brittâs flat.
   Â
âIs there anything youâd like me to buy for next time, or should I just follow the usual list?â
Maj-Britt was sitting in the easy chair watching TV. One of those reality shows that were on all the time these days; this one was about a group of scantily clad
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