Åsa Larsson - The Blood Spilt

A middle-aged woman on her own was dunking her bread in a bowl of soup. She gave Rebecka a quick smile then stuffed the piece of bread into her mouth quickly, before it fell apart. A black Labrador with the white stripes of age on his muzzle was sleeping at her feet. Over the chair beside her was an indescribably scruffy Barbie-pink padded coat. Her hair was cut very short in a style which could most charitably be described as practical.

“Anything I can help you with?” asked the earring behind the counter.

Rebecka turned toward him and had just about managed to say yes when the swing door from the kitchen flew open and a woman in her twenties hurtled out with three plates. Her long hair was dyed in stripes-blond, an unnatural pink and black. She had an eyebrow piercing and two sparkling stones in her nose.

What a pretty girl, thought Rebecka.

“Yes?” said the girl to Rebecka, a challenge in her voice.

She didn’t wait for an answer, but put the plates down in front of the three men. Rebecka had been about to ask if they served food, but she could see that they did.

“It says ‘rooms’ on the sign,” she heard herself asking instead, “how much are they?”

The earring looked at her in confusion.

“Mimmi,” he said, “she’s asking about rooms.”

The woman with the striped hair turned to Rebecka, wiped her hands on her apron and pushed a strand of sweat-soaked hair off her face.

“We’ve got cottages,” she said. “Sort of chalets. Two hundred and seventy kronor a night.”

What am I doing? thought Rebecka.

And the next minute she thought:

I want to stay here. Just me.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll be in shortly having a meal with a man. If he asks about rooms, tell him you’ve only got space for me.”

Mimmi frowned.

“Why should I do that?” she asked. “It’s bloody awful business for us.”

“Not at all. If you say you’ve got room for him as well, I’ll change my mind and we’ll both go and stay at the Winter Palace in town. So one overnight guest or none.”

“Having trouble fighting him off, are you?” grinned the earring.

Rebecka shrugged. They could think what they liked. And what could she say?

Mimmi shrugged back.

“Okay then,” she said. “But you’re both eating, are you? Or shall we say there’s only enough food for you?”

Torsten was reading the menu. Rebecka was sitting opposite, looking at him. His rounded cheeks, pink with pleasure. His reading glasses balanced as far down his nose as possible without actually stopping him from breathing. Hair tousled, standing on end. Mimmi was leaning over his shoulder and pointing as she read it out. Like a teacher and pupil.

He loves this, thought Rebecka.

The men with their powerful arms, their sheath knives hanging from their belts. Who had mumbled a reply when Torsten swept in wearing his gray suit and greeted them cheerfully. Pretty Mimmi with her big boobs and her loud voice. About as far as you can get from the accommodating girls at the Sturecompagniet nightclub. Little anecdotes were already taking shape in his head.

“You can either have the dish of the day,” said Mimmi, pointing to a blackboard on the wall where it said “Marinated elk steak with mushroom and vegetable risotto. Or you can have something out of the freezer. You can have anything that’s listed there with potatoes or rice or pasta, whichever you want.”

She pointed to the menu where a number of dishes were listed under the heading “From the freezer”: lasagne, meatballs, blood pudding, Piteå potato cakes filled with mince, smoked reindeer fillet in a cream sauce and stew.

“Maybe I should try the blood pudding,” he said excitedly to Rebecka.

The door opened and the tall lad who’d arrived on the moped came in. He stopped just inside the door. His massive body was encased in a beautifully ironed striped cotton shirt buttoned right up to the neck. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look at the other customers. He kept his head twisted to one side so that his big chin was pointing out through the long narrow window. As if it were signposting an escape route.

“Nalle!” exclaimed Mimmi, abandoning Torsten to his deliberations. “Don’t you look smart!”

The big lad gave her a shy smile and a quick glance.

“Come over here and let me have a proper look at you!” called the woman with the dog, pushing her soup bowl to one side.

Rebecka suddenly noticed how alike Mimmi and the woman with the dog were. They must be mother and daughter.

The dog at the woman’s feet raised its head and gave two tired wags with its tail. Then it put its head down and went back to sleep.

The boy went over to the woman with the dog. She clapped her hands.

“Don’t you look wonderful!” she said. “Happy birthday! What a smart shirt!”

Nalle smiled at her flattery and raised his chin toward the ceiling in an almost comical pose that made Rebecka think of Rudolph Valentino.

“New,” he said.

“Well yes, we can see it’s new,” said Mimmi.

“Going dancing, Nalle?” called one of the men. “Mimmi, can you do us five takeaways from the freezer? Whatever you like.”

Nalle pointed at his trousers.

“Too,” he said.

He lifted up his arms and held them straight out from his body so that everybody could see his trousers properly. They were a pair of gray chinos held up with a military belt.

“Are they new as well? Very smart!” the two admiring women assured him.

“Here,” said Mimmi, pulling out the chair opposite the woman with the dog. “Your dad hasn’t arrived yet, but you can sit here with Lisa and wait.”

“Cake,” said Nalle, and sat down.

“Of course you can have some cake. Did you think I’d forgotten? But after your meal.”

Mimmi’s hand shot out and gave his hair a quick caress. Then she disappeared into the kitchen.

Rebecka leaned across the table to Torsten.

“I was thinking of staying the night here,” said Rebecka. “You know I grew up by this river, just a few miles upstream, and it’s made me feel a bit nostalgic. But I’ll drive you into town and pick you up in the morning.”

“No problem,” said Torsten, the roses of adventure on his cheeks in full bloom. “I can stay here as well.”

“The beds won’t exactly be the height of luxury, I shouldn’t think,” said Rebecka.

Mimmi came out with five aluminum packages under her arm.

“We were thinking of staying here tonight,” Torsten said to her. “Do you have any rooms free?”

“Sorry,” replied Mimmi. “One cottage left. Ninety centimeter bed.”

“That’s okay,” Rebecka said to Torsten. “I’ll give you a lift.”

He smiled at her. Beneath the smile and the well-paid successful partner was a fat little boy she didn’t want to play with, trying to look as if he didn’t mind. It gave her a pang.

When Rebecka got back from town it was almost completely dark. The forest was silhouetted against the blue black sky. She parked the car in front of the bar and locked it. There were several other cars parked there. The voices of burly men could be heard from inside, the sound of forks being pushed forcefully through meat and clattering on the plate underneath, the television providing a constant background noise, familiar advertising jingles. Nalle’s moped was still standing there. She hoped he’d had a good birthday.

The cottage she was sleeping in was on the opposite side of the road on the edge of the forest. A small lamp above the door lit up the number five.

I’m at peace, she thought.

She went up to the cottage door, but suddenly turned and walked a few meters into the forest. The fir trees stood in silence, gazing up toward the stars which were just beginning to appear. Their long blue green velvet coats moved tentatively over the moss.