Karin Alvtegen - Shadow

Halina

Axel read the letter four times. The relief he felt made him euphoric. Since the incident, he had gone around in a daze, not knowing what was up or down, and with each day his feeling of helplessness had spread. Each time he left the room he was afraid of seeing Gerda with yet another letter; when he heard the telephone ring he feared that it was Halina. He peered out of the windows when he thought he heard unfamiliar sounds. But Halina had not got in touch again. The letter was a liberation. He had already worked out that she suffered from some sort of mental disturbance. He hadn’t been able to forget what he’d seen glinting in her eyes, and during sleepless nights he had wondered about her personality change.

Three weeks had passed, and the whole time he’d had the feeling of trying to balance on a slack rope.

Christmas came and went with its usual frenzy. The problem that had been lifted from his shoulders gave way to other concerns, and he had actually written a little, nothing very good but at least he’d managed to get something down. On Christmas Eve they had rung Jan-Erik, a brief conversation considering the cost of long distance calls to the States, but it had been worth every krona. Alice blossomed after hearing her son’s voice, and for once the Christmas holiday was quite enjoyable. On Christmas Day his parents came to visit, but his sister refused to participate, as usual. He asked about her sometimes. He knew that she lived in Farsta and was on a disability pension because of all the heavy lifting she had done in the nursing home. She had no children, and he had no idea if there was a man in her life. His parents didn’t volunteer much information, even though he knew they were in close contact with her. Once a long time ago he had asked to come along, but his sister had let him know that he was not welcome.

Twelfth Night passed and the regular routine returned before everything was ripped up again. On the ninth of January the snow came down heavily as a storm moved in over Stockholm. He was standing in the library, listening to the house resisting as the wind picked up and came in through all the cracks, causing sounds he had never heard before. As soon as he heard Gerda’s footsteps he suspected the worst. She handed him a small envelope, and without a word turned and left. There was something about her expression. He knew at once who it was from, and now he had confirmation of what he’d suspected – Gerda had known all along. He went straight into his office and ripped open the envelope so that the little H was torn off in the middle.

Thank you for your message. I promise to be there. Finally, my love!

Your Halina

He opened the cupboard and put the letter in the nearest cardboard box. Then he went to the kitchen.

‘Gerda, could I see you for a moment, please?’

He didn’t wait for an answer, just turned and went back to his office. At the door he stopped to let her pass. She entered the room, and the procedure from the previous occasion was repeated. Gerda cowering just inside the door and Axel enthroned behind his desk. Gentry and servant. Axel Ragnerfeldt and his father and mother. He didn’t know how he should behave to break the class barrier. He needed her services and she needed his money; they shared the same house. Why in God’s name couldn’t they behave as equals? He had attempted to use the familiar form of address with her at first, invited her in as a member of the family, but he’d soon been forced to realise that his behaviour was unwelcome. With almost fifty years of experience in her profession she wanted respect for her abilities, and that involved certain conditions. She had clearly demonstrated that she did not intend to become part of the family.

‘What I tell you now will remain between the two of us, and I don’t want you to discuss it with Alice because there’s no reason to upset her. Recently I’ve been contacted on several occasions by a woman, but I want nothing to do with her. She is a complete stranger and I’ve never even met her. Presumably one of my readers. You’ve probably noticed a number of strange letters arriving?’

‘I don’t know if I have.’

‘Well, in any case, I would like you to know about it. I’m rather worried that the woman in question is not in full possession of her senses.’

He wished that she would say something, ask a question. Show that she appreciated his trust and shared his concern.

But Gerda said nothing. Not a word passed her lips, and when her silence continued he realised that she had no intention of saying anything.

‘That will be all. Thank you.’

Gerda curtseyed and turned to go. At the same instant the front doorbell rang. Their eyes met and for a second he felt that they were united in some sort of conspiracy. Then the moment passed, and she was gone. Axel followed her but stopped halfway, filled with misgivings. The doorbell was rarely used; no one came to the house unannounced.

No one except Torgny Wennberg.

He heard Gerda’s voice trying to be heard over the storm.

‘I’m sorry but I can’t let you in. Mr Ragnerfeldt is busy and has asked not to be disturbed.’

‘Oh really! You mean that randy old goat Ragnerfeldt? Get out of the way. I have to talk to him.’

His voice was enough to reveal the alcohol in his bloodstream. Axel was afraid that Alice might hear him so he hurried out into the hall. Torgny was white, covered with snow. Gerda was holding onto the door handle with both hands, and the snow was whirling through the gap in the doorway. Torgny grabbed hold of the door and forced his way in. With great difficulty he managed to close the door behind him.

‘Well, look here, if it isn’t the gentleman himself, down here on earth like the rest of us.’

He bowed and threw out his arms flamboyantly. Axel shook his finger at him.

‘You need to calm down. There are people sick in bed in this house.’

Torgny squinted histrionically.

‘Is that your dick or your little finger? I can’t see any difference from here.’

‘It’s all right, Gerda. Thank you for now, I’ll take care of this. We’re just going to step outside and have a little chat.’

He hastily pulled on some shoes and a coat as Gerda left the hall.

‘You’re scared that Alice will hear, eh? That dried-up old cunt. Doesn’t she let you get any, or is she out somewhere else getting some cock? She probably gets plenty out here in this posh part sucking off the neighbours.’

‘Shut up. Let’s go outside.’

‘Aren’t you getting any grease on your prick anymore, Ragnerfeldt?’

Axel reached out his hand and pressed down the door handle behind Torgny’s back. With a crash the door flew open as it was caught by the wind, and the hall was filled with even more snow. Axel shoved him outside and pulled the door closed. They stood on the steps in the storm, huddling as best they could against the lashing snowflakes. The feeling that his life had become absurd came over Axel once again. What had happened recently was beyond his usual experience. Here he was standing with Torgny Wennberg in a blizzard outside his house, realising that they would have to have a discussion to put an end to all this misery, but he also knew that they couldn’t stay there. The wind was so strong they had to hold on to something. The only good thing about the storm was that it had finally shut Torgny up; he hadn’t said a word since they’d come outside.

‘Come on, let’s go over to the woodshed.’

He started walking and Torgny followed him. With one hand gripping his coat collar and the other shielding his eyes, Axel trudged towards the little shed. The snow had settled in a drift in front of the door, and Axel pushed it aside with his foot while undoing the lock. He let Torgny inside along with a flurry of snow and closed the door behind them. They stamped a few times, brushed off the worst of the snow, but the raw cold in the shed cut through their clothing and shoes. Torgny’s beard was white and his face blazing red, his breath billowing like smoke from his mouth. Axel rubbed his hands. Neither of them said a word. The hostile tone had lost its way somewhere out in the storm; now they were two freezing men with a common foe. Of course, the feeling of ‘we’ was never greater than when the powers of nature were threatening. The cold had sobered up Torgny and he suddenly looked embarrassed.