Karin Alvtegen - Shadow

Again the phone rang. Without looking at the display she picked it up.

‘Yes, hello?’

The line was silent but she could sense that someone was there.

‘Who’s this?’

‘I’m looking for Jan-Erik.’ A woman’s voice.

‘He’s not home at the moment. Who shall I tell him called?’

Silence again, but not very long.

‘Just say hello from Lena in Göteborg. Ask him to ring me.’

Louise was still holding the receiver to her ear when she heard the woman hang up. Lena in Göteborg. Looking for Jan-Erik. Surnames superfluous. Phone numbers already exchanged.

Wasn’t Göteborg where he was a few days ago? That time when he missed Ellen’s play? She grabbed the phone and pressed the buttons to check the calls from the past few days. Seven times the same number in Göteborg showed up. Seven times Lena had called. Including half an hour ago, when she’d hung up.

She leaned back and wondered about her reaction. She didn’t feel anger, or despair. All she felt was a sense of relief that she had finally found an explanation.

It wasn’t contempt.

He simply loved someone else.

Louise got up, and armed with her new knowledge went to the bathroom. She had a shower, put on her make-up, got dressed. Something had happened to her mood. Suddenly the air felt easier to breathe and her steps were not as heavy. It was as if the knowledge of Jan-Erik’s lover had restored her dignity. She had risen from her position as underdog, strengthened by the fact that she now had a real accusation to use as a weapon. She surprised herself. She felt no disappointment or bitterness. It was no more important than that. Something unusual had happened that had roused her from her drab grey stagnation, and it was worth being rejected in favour of Lena in Göteborg.

She put on her coat and went outside. She decided to keep the boutique closed for another day, she couldn’t stand being there any more. The solitary hours spent behind the counter, waiting for a banal conversation with one of the few customers who ever found their way to her shop.

She breathed in the clear air, letting it fill her lungs, and tried to persuade herself that it was there all around her, the courage that she still lacked.

She headed towards the canal. When she reached the pathway she heard her mobile. She let it ring and kept walking, but then her voicemail beeped. It might be Ellen. She pulled out the phone and, seeing that the call was from home, played the message. It was Jan-Erik.

‘Hi, it’s me. I’m back home. I went to the shop but you weren’t there. Where are you? It didn’t go so well at the clinic. They actually found something this time, and it’s apparently quite serious. She’s back home now but will be having an operation the day after tomorrow. Call me when you get this. Bye.’

She deleted the message. Alice ill? Seriously ill? The news shook her. All those years Alice had pestered them with her imaginary pains, but finally she was right. With a pang of guilt Louise stuffed the mobile in her pocket, turned round and headed towards Alice’s flat.

She had intended to use her own key but changed her mind as her hand reached the lock. If Alice was in bed she didn’t want to surprise her. Their relationship had never allowed such intimacies. Instead she rang the doorbell.

Alice came to the door quickly and opened it.

‘Oh, Louise, how nice. Come in.’

Louise didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t the image of the woman who stood before her. Brisk and sober and wearing a flowered apron, Alice stepped to one side to let her in.

‘Aren’t you at the shop today?’

Louise hung up her coat.

‘I’m taking the day off. Jan-Erik rang and told me about the doctor’s exam.’

‘Yes, apparently things didn’t look so good. Come in. But you shouldn’t have closed the shop for that.’

Louise stopped short. The Alice she saw before her was different. Louise had gone there ready to hear her usual complaint that no one ever believed in her illnesses. She’d imagined Alice triumphantly ensconced in bed, intent on feeling sorry for herself and apportioning blame.

Alice vanished into the kitchen after motioning Louise towards the living room.

‘Would you like some coffee?’

‘No thanks.’

Louise let her gaze sweep over the mess. Almost everything in the room had been moved from its place, and every flat surface was covered with books, papers, magazines and knick-knacks.

Alice appeared in the doorway from the kitchen with a cardboard box in her hands.

‘I’ve started cleaning up a bit. You should have a look around and see if there’s anything you’d like. I thought I’d have someone come over and take away the rest.’

Alice picked up a little glass horse. ‘I know Ellen was fascinated by this when she was little. She might like to have it as a little keepsake.’

Louise watched her, amazed at her energy and the sparkle in her eye.

Alice caught sight of one of the paintings on the wall.

‘I think Jan-Erik would want this one. I remember he said he liked it. It was in the living room out in Nacka, and if nothing else I think it might be worth a few kronor.’

‘But, Alice, don’t you think you’re jumping the gun a little?’

Alice put down the box and looked around as if she hadn’t heard a thing.

‘What did the doctor say?’

‘Well, God knows, they use so many big words that nobody can understand what they really mean. But she looked worried and wanted to go in and investigate the day after tomorrow. And what about this!’

Alice went over to the bookshelf and took down a book.

‘Well, here it is! It was one of the first books I ever read. Imagine, I haven’t seen it for years. I thought I’d lost it. You have to give this to Ellen.’

Louise was surprised that Jan-Erik had left Alice by herself. Not even he could have helped noticing her agitation.

‘So you’re going to have the operation the day after tomorrow?’

‘Yes.’

Alice went over to the sideboard and pulled out the top drawer.

‘Imagine how many things one collects over a lifetime, and only a fraction have been of any use.’

She continued chattering in her cheerful tone. Louise sat down on the sofa, unsure what to do. How should one behave with people in shock?

Alice began taking out silverware and piling it on top of the sideboard.

‘If you polish them up, they look really nice. I inherited them from Mother and Father.’

Louise looked at the back of Alice’s head. During a conversation long ago she had once mentioned losing contact with her parents early on; she never said why. She never mentioned them again other than on that one occasion, and then it was Ellen who had asked about them.

Louise’s own mood suddenly gave her the courage to ask.

‘Didn’t you ever miss your parents?’

‘No, parents are very overrated.’

A statement as if quoted from a psychology book. Even with her back turned it was clear that Alice had no intention of delving any more deeply into the topic. She inspected a tablespoon with extra care.

It occurred to Louise how little she knew about Alice’s life, how little she knew her at all. She had lost a child in a car accident, a fifteen-year-old daughter. Not until now did Louise fully realise what that actually meant. As if Ellen right now would have only three years to live. The thought was impossible to grasp.

Alice’s hand kept inspecting the silverware in the drawer. Once that hand had written books; Alice had been a writer just like Axel. She had written some novels back in the fifties that Louise had never bothered to read. And neither had Jan-Erik, as far as she knew. She wondered why she had stopped writing.