Part 22 (1/2)

It hadn't occurred to her to do anything special on Thursday. She laughed. 'You mean...what am I going to wear when I'm serving the food? Fishnet stockings, maybe?'

Josef turned up the corners of his mouth, turned them down again. 'No, I thought...maybe you'd prefer not to be here.'

'Don't you want me to be here?'

He didn't say anything. Which answered the question. She felt a sudden surge of fury: at his b.l.o.o.d.y secrecy, his nail biting, at the fact that he didn't give a d.a.m.n how she was feeling, and why was she showing such exaggerated consideration just because he'd been involved in an accident almost four months ago, for f.u.c.k's sake, and she said, 'Well, I was thinking of putting the heater on in the garage soon anyway, so I can do that on Thursday. I can sit out there and have a lovely time by the fire all on my own while you two...do whatever the f.u.c.k you're going to do.'

She got up from the sofa, picked up the book on top of the pile on the coffee table-Leibniz' Pre-established Harmony-and hurled it on his knee when he tried to get to his feet.

'Sit down. Read a f.u.c.king book. I can go and see Gabriella on Thursday. What time am I allowed to come back?'

Josef looked tormented. He clasped his hands and held them out in front of him, pleading.

'Anna...please. Don't be like that. I...' He closed his mouth abruptly. Then answered her last question as if she had meant it seriously.

'It would be best if...if you came home on Thursday night.'

'So I don't need to stay over? Thanks very much.'

Josef sighed. 'Please, Anna, if you could just...'

'Thursday night. Right. Fine. That's sorted then.'

She left him and went off to bed.

Wednesday pa.s.sed in mutual silence. Anna started sketching out a new piece, a small island with a single, huge tree on it. From one of the tree's branches dangled a woman, hanging from a rope. But her body was drawn so that roots were emerging from her feet, working their way down into the ground beneath the tree, and her skin was turning into bark.

She didn't bother transferring it to a piece of wood. She realised n.o.body would buy it, because it didn't have the black humour of the skeleton sheep. It was the kind of picture that might make the neighbours look away if they met her by chance by the mailboxes: And she always seemed so nice.

She rang Gabriella who of course said fantastic brilliant really looking forward to seeing you on Thursday evening kiss kiss.

Josef came home and they avoided an argument, kept out of each other's way. He went down to the jetty and messed around with the boat. When she heard the engine start up her heart missed a beat. She ran to the kitchen window with a feeling that he's leaving me... he's disappearing...

But the boat was still moored by the jetty, and Josef was standing on board revving the engine. When he had finished she quickly moved back so that he wouldn't see her watching. After all, she didn't care about him.

In the evening they watched some stupid film with Jim Carrey in it, where he and another guy ran around being idiots. In a couple of places she noted, 'I could have laughed here', but didn't.

When the film was over there was nothing to add, so they went to bed. Anna could feel Josef's anger coming from his side of the bed like an electric cloud, but she took no notice. She'd tried. Enough was enough.

Instead she lay awake with her hands resting on her stomach. She could feel sleepy, fumbling movements from inside, and she pressed her hands down gently in response.

She had almost fallen asleep when Josef got out of bed and crept into the kitchen. The light went on, the fridge was opened. After a while she could hear the crunch as he ate a piece of crispbread. She drew up her legs, pressed her hands between her thighs. She wasn't just angry. She was afraid too.

She wanted to go to Josef, sit beside him and talk, talk, talk until dawn. Sort things out, find some transparency. But she didn't dare. Didn't want to see his expression when she appeared in the doorway. His face might close down, rejecting her. Pus.h.i.+ng her away yet again.

She would rather lie here and embrace the only thing she was sure of.

She fell asleep before Josef came back.

When she woke up on Thursday morning Josef had already gone, taking an early bus so that she could have the car. There was a note on the kitchen table.

Darling Anna.

It's two o'clock in the morning and I'm going to bed in a minute to see if I can get some sleep.

I know I've been strange and difficult to be with lately, but from tomorrow everything will be better. Much better. I promise.

Can you come back around 11 or 12 tonight? Please. It's important.

And remember I love you. Always and forever.

Your Josef Later Anna would wish she had followed her instinct and stayed at home. Grabbed Josef's head, threatened him with divorce and forced him to tell her what he was up to. But she didn't have the strength. She wanted to see Gabriella, talk to somebody outside the situation about how things were. She was wandering around in a porridge of pregnancy, darkness and slush. She needed some distance. So with a chorus of warning bells ringing in her ears she got in the car just after one o'clock and left Josef to his fate. She ended up in a convoy of trucks from Kapellskar that dragged her along with them all the way to Stockholm.

Gabriella's one-room apartment was a time machine. Twenty-seven square metres in Midsommarkransen, cluttered with finished and half-finished canvases, photographs, flyers about exhibitions, pictures downloaded and printed from the internet, clothes. Anna caught herself thinking For G.o.d's sake, grow up.

They were both thirty-one, and Gabriella was still in exactly the same place Anna had been eight years earlier. A sub-let apartment, no long-term relations.h.i.+p, no job. She probably read Nemi.

Maybe I'm just jealous?

Gabriella had made crepes, which they ate in the tiny kitchen with a view of the carpark while Gabriella talked about her latest application to the University College of Art and Design, samples of her work, ha.s.sle with some Hungarian she'd met at a private view, how she'd started pinching stuff from shops as a protest. Anna sang the first line of 'Shoplifters of the World Unite' and Gabriella joined in for a few bars. She put down her cutlery and rested her chin on her hands.

'And how are things with you two?'

Anna shrugged. 'Fine.'

When Gabriella didn't say anything, she added, 'I'm not really in the mood for work, but that could be to do with the baby. Do you remember that series I started...'

They went back to talking about art. Anna didn't feel like talking about her life. She knew what Gabriella would say. You can't let your life be ruled by his nightmares. Set yourself free, for G.o.d's sake. Easy to say when you've never been faithful to the same person for longer than a year. Easy to say when you're not pregnant and you live in a one-room apartment in Midsommarkransen. Easy to say when you've never loved, expecting it to last forever. So they talked about art.

In the evening they went into the city and headed for Pelikan, their regular haunt from the old days. Perhaps that was a mistake; there they sat, the same people in the same place as before. It became painfully obvious that they weren't the same people anymore. At least, Anna wasn't.

They reminisced about school, talked about what had become of old friends. When the conversation flagged they both started looking elsewhere: Gabriella flirted with a guy with dreadlocks, Anna eyed up the clock above the bar. When it finally reached nine-thirty, she said, 'Sorry. There's something I have to do at home. I think I'd better make a move.'

Gabriella finished off her third beer. 'No surprise there.'

Anna got up with a mixture of relief and a guilty conscience. It hadn't turned out the way she expected at all; she hadn't said a word about her real problems. It felt like a betrayal of their friends.h.i.+p.

f.u.c.k it all. As long as she got home.

They kissed and hugged and said they must get together again soon and it was all lies and as Anna hurried out of the bar she saw the dreadlock guy heading over to take her place and be much better company.

She almost ran the five blocks to the car. She would be home too early, but now she'd made the decision it felt more as if she would be home too late, whatever that might mean.

He wants to die.

She sc.r.a.ped the car in front with her b.u.mper as she jolted out of her tiny parking s.p.a.ce and headed across the city towards Roslagstull. Sweat trickled down her back from the running and her growing anxiety.

Right now Josef was sitting in their house with a man who wanted to die. She could see a possible connection, and hoped to G.o.d she was wrong.

When she turned into their drive her head was spinning after an hour listening to the din of the Toyota doing 140. The silence was intense when she switched off the engine and got out of the car. The outside light shone with a welcoming glow, and everything looked just the way it always did. She walked towards the house, thinking that if everything was OK she would...withdraw, somehow. Go and sit in the garage, perhaps.