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 didn’t 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 weren’t 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 hadn’t replied, but it was distressing that the girl couldn’t keep her mouth shut and just clean, which was the only reason she was in the flat in the first place. But she just wouldn’t 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 didn’t flourish – maybe it didn’t like the smell of bleach. Or else it was the subzero temperature on the balcony at night that it didn’t appreciate. Ellinor insisted that she was going to complain at the shop and ask for a new one, but thankfully it didn’t appear in Maj-Britt’s flat.
‘Is there anything you’d like me to buy for next time, or should I just follow the usual list?’
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 young people who had to win the right to keep their room at a hotel by procuring as quickly as possible a roommate of the opposite sex.
‘Earplugs would be nice. Preferably the yellow ones made of foam rubber you can get at the chemist’s, the kind that workers use in noisy jobs. They swell up and block the entire ear canal.’
Ellinor jotted it down on the list. Maj-Britt glanced at her and thought she saw a little smile under her fringe, just above her plunging neckline where her breasts were about to pop out of her jumper.
This person was going to drive Maj-Britt crazy. She couldn’t figure out what exactly was wrong with her, since she didn’t let herself be provoked. Never before had she felt such a wholehearted desire to get rid of someone, but all of a sudden none of her usual old tricks was working.
‘Whatever happened to that nice Shajiba? Why doesn’t she come by anymore?’
‘She doesn’t want to. She and I traded work schedules because she didn’t dare come here anymore.’
Oh, really. Shajiba might not have been so bad after all. Right now she looked like an absolute dream.
‘You’ll have to tell her that I really appreciated her work.’
Ellinor stuffed the shopping list in her pocket.
‘Then it was a shame that you called her “nigger whore” the last time she was here. I don’t think she took it as a sign of your appreciation.’
Maj-Britt went back to the TV.
‘It’s not until you have something to compare things to that you can see clearly.’
She glanced in Ellinor’s direction, and now she was smiling again; Maj-Britt could have sworn that it was a little smile she saw. There was quite clearly something wrong with this person. Maybe she was even mentally handicapped.
She could imagine what the gossip was down there at the home care office. How hated she must be as a User. That’s what they were called: not patients or clients, but Users. Users of home care. Users who required the help of little, repulsive people because they couldn’t manage without it.
Let them say what they liked. She enjoyed playing the role of The Big Fat Ogre that nobody wanted on their work schedule. She didn’t care. It wasn’t her fault that things had turned out like this.
It was Göran’s.
On the TV, one of the female participants had just lied to a gullible girlfriend and started to take off her shirt in order to tempt a potential roommate.
But what she remembered and recounted was more than Maj-Britt ever wanted to know. And as if that weren’t 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 hadn’t replied, but it was distressing that the girl couldn’t keep her mouth shut and just clean, which was the only reason she was in the flat in the first place. But she just wouldn’t 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 didn’t flourish – maybe it didn’t like the smell of bleach. Or else it was the subzero temperature on the balcony at night that it didn’t appreciate. Ellinor insisted that she was going to complain at the shop and ask for a new one, but thankfully it didn’t appear in Maj-Britt’s flat.
‘Is there anything you’d like me to buy for next time, or should I just follow the usual list?’
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 young people who had to win the right to keep their room at a hotel by procuring as quickly as possible a roommate of the opposite sex.
‘Earplugs would be nice. Preferably the yellow ones made of foam rubber you can get at the chemist’s, the kind that workers use in noisy jobs. They swell up and block the entire ear canal.’
Ellinor jotted it down on the list. Maj-Britt glanced at her and thought she saw a little smile under her fringe, just above her plunging neckline where her breasts were about to pop out of her jumper.
This person was going to drive Maj-Britt crazy. She couldn’t figure out what exactly was wrong with her, since she didn’t let herself be provoked. Never before had she felt such a wholehearted desire to get rid of someone, but all of a sudden none of her usual old tricks was working.
‘Whatever happened to that nice Shajiba? Why doesn’t she come by anymore?’
‘She doesn’t want to. She and I traded work schedules because she didn’t dare come here anymore.’
Oh, really. Shajiba might not have been so bad after all. Right now she looked like an absolute dream.
‘You’ll have to tell her that I really appreciated her work.’
Ellinor stuffed the shopping list in her pocket.
‘Then it was a shame that you called her “nigger whore” the last time she was here. I don’t think she took it as a sign of your appreciation.’
Maj-Britt went back to the TV.
‘It’s not until you have something to compare things to that you can see clearly.’
She glanced in Ellinor’s direction, and now she was smiling again; Maj-Britt could have sworn that it was a little smile she saw. There was quite clearly something wrong with this person. Maybe she was even mentally handicapped.
She could imagine what the gossip was down there at the home care office. How hated she must be as a User. That’s what they were called: not patients or clients, but Users. Users of home care. Users who required the help of little, repulsive people because they couldn’t manage without it.
Let them say what they liked. She enjoyed playing the role of The Big Fat Ogre that nobody wanted on their work schedule. She didn’t care. It wasn’t her fault that things had turned out like this.
It was Göran’s.
On the TV, one of the female participants had just lied to a gullible girlfriend and started to take off her shirt in order to tempt a potential roommate.
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