Camilla Lackberg - The Gilded Cage

Eventually he said:

‘I don’t know how guys usually treat you, what things are like where you come from, but I think you’re great. You’re different, genuine. Obviously you can leave if you want to, but I’d really like it if you stayed for a while. I thought I’d go and get us some juice and croissants from the 7-Eleven, then do a bit of sunbathing and order a pizza.’

‘OK.’ My answer came without me having time to think about it.

A wasp flew past my face. I waved it away, although I’d never been frightened of wasps. There were far worse things to be frightened of.

‘“OK”? Seriously, what kind of guys do you normally hook up with?’

‘Back home the guys are … I don’t know. They usually want you to have sex and then leave, pretty much. They have their own stuff to be getting on with the next day.’

I didn’t mention the way they looked at you. The things they said. The shame I had to carry, even though it belonged to someone else. Giving my body to someone who wanted it counted as nothing compared to all the rest of it.

Viktor shaded his eyes with his hand.

‘How long have you lived in Stockholm?’

‘One month.’

‘Welcome.’

‘Thanks.’

Around seven o’clock people started to show up in the flat. Most of them were a few years older than me, and I felt a bit out of place at first. Viktor disappeared in the crowd and I ended up by the table in the garden with Axel. I sipped a drink and smoked while he told stories that made me roar with laughter, about his Interrail trip with Viktor the previous summer. Two girls came out, and introduced themselves as Julia and Sara. Julia had long brown hair, green eyes, and was wearing a beautiful, dark-blue dress. Sara had a denim skirt, white vest and her blonde hair was pulled into a loose knot.

‘I’m so fucking stressed about the autumn,’ Julia said, leaning forward. ‘I want to give up, or at least take a year’s sabbatical, but Dad won’t let me. He loses it whenever I try to raise the subject. God, I hate Lund.’

‘You poor thing,’ Sara said, blowing smoke-rings.

‘I wish I’d had the grades to get into the School of Economics instead. But what the hell – let’s forget all that and have some fun tonight.’

Julia straightened up and looked at me as if she’d only just noticed I was there.

‘What do you do?’

I cleared my throat. Blew out some smoke. I had no inclination to discuss my plans for the future with someone I’d known all of five minutes.

‘I’m not doing much at the moment.’

‘That sounds good. You want to be a student?’

I had applied to various colleges in Stockholm, so I nodded. And thought about my bank account, which was starting to look alarmingly empty.

‘I’m thinking about it. But it’s a while before they let you know,’ I said.

‘How do you know Axel?’

This from the other girl, Sara, nodding in his direction.

‘I met Viktor, if you know him, at Buddha Bar yesterday.’

‘Did you sleep here?’

I nodded.

They finished their cigarettes in silence before getting to their feet.

‘Julia used to go out with Viktor,’ Axel said once they had gone.

‘Used to?’

‘Until about three months ago, something like that. This is the first time they’ve met since she got home from Lund.’

Julia and Sara came along to Buddha Bar. They stuck close to Viktor and kept glaring sullenly at me. The more alcohol I got inside me, the more irritated I became.

Viktor took a break from his decks and came over to me and Axel. I put my arms round him as I met Julia’s narrowed eyes. He kissed me and I bit his bottom lip gently. When it was time for him to go back to the DJ’s booth he asked if I wanted to go with him. He led me through the crowd with his arm round my waist. It took a while because people kept stopping him to talk. We got there in the end. Viktor put his headphones on, adjusted some controls and started to sway in time to the music.

I did the same. Then I took one of his hands, slipped it under my dress and put it between my legs. I wasn’t wearing any underpants.

‘Do you want to come back to mine tonight?’ he asked.

‘Yes. If you’d like me to?’

He gave me an intense look that made any spoken answer unnecessary.

‘What are we going to do?’ I teased.

Viktor laughed and changed track.

It was a wonderful feeling. I was free. Free to do whatever I wanted. To be whoever I wanted. Without the past messing up everything around me, inside me. Without all the people who had been pulling me down. I was slowly turning myself into someone else, little by little.

I looked out across the dancing throng, shut my eyes and thought about what life was like in Fjällbacka. All the curious glances that followed me wherever I went, the mixture of fascination and sympathy, sticky, heavy, suffocating. No one knew here. No one stared here. My place was here. In Stockholm.

‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ I yelled.

‘OK. I finish in ten minutes. Shall we meet up by the door?’

I nodded and made my way to the lavatory. I stood in the queue, smiling to myself about the fact that Viktor belonged to me, no one else. The music from the dance-floor thudded in the distance, making the mirror on the wall vibrate.

I looked at my reflection. My hair was blonder than usual, and I felt tanned and fresh. I thought I looked older than I had only a few weeks ago. By the basins a girl aimed a pink can of hairspray at her head. The sweet scent caught in my nose, a refreshing contrast to the smell of sweat, drink and smoky clothes.

The door opened behind me and the music got briefly louder.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned round. I caught sight of Julia before the drink came flying at me. An ice-cube hit me on the forehead, fell to the floor and bounced away. My eyes stung and I blinked hard with surprise and pain.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ I shouted, stepping back.

‘You little slut,’ Julia said before turning on her heel and stalking out.

Some other girls laughed. I wiped myself with a paper towel. I felt the humiliation like insects crawling inside me. I felt like my old self again. The one who shrank away and hid in the shadows. The one who cowered under the weight of far too many secrets.

Then I straightened up and looked at myself in the mirror. Never again.

One week later I got a letter. I had been accepted to do an MBA at the Stockholm School of Economics. I got a copy of the letter, found out what Julia’s address was, bought an envelope, and put the copy of the letter inside with a Polaroid photograph Viktor had taken, of me on all fours and Viktor behind me, his face contorted with pleasure. When I dropped the envelope in Julia’s family’s letterbox I had only one thought in my head. I was never going to let anyone humiliate me again.

One month later I registered at the School of Economics under my middle name, Faye, after the author of my mum’s favourite book. Matilda no longer existed.

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