Shadows of Sören

Chapter 11

Eric had been only three then. The scene had been a similar one. Eric had been sitting at the kitchen table, scribbling on a pad of paper with some extra thick crayons Gunhild had bought him. Gunhild had been standing by the stove preparing dinner. The mechanical milker had broken down a couple of times that week and Per was still out trying to get the machine to operate again. Gunhild prayed that he wouldn´t be in a terrible mood when he came home. But her payers had not been answered.

The first thing he did when he came in was to get a beer from the fridge. He leaned back against the kitchen counter so he was facing her. Then he poked her in the side not too gently and gave a short nod in the direction of Eric.

“What´s he doing here at my table in my kitchen? I told you I don´t want him around here.”

Gunhild didn´t answer. Sometimes he let her be when she just stayed quiet and didn´t react. But not that time.

Per poked her in the side again, this time a little harder.

“I said, what is that little bastard doing here in my kitchen? And look at me when I´m talking to you.” He gripped her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him.

Gunhild turned her head away and quietly said, “He lives here Per. Where else shall I keep him?”

Per gave a malicious laugh and said, “Do you think I care? How about the barn, that would be a good place for him.”

“Per, he´s only a little boy and he´s not bothering you,” Gunhild said again in a docile voice.

Per poked her in the side again, this time even harder.

“What did you say? What? He´s not bothering me? He bothers me all the time. He bothers me because he´s here. How dare you contradict me, you stupid bitch.”

“Sorry”, Gunhild answered submissively. She had lost any form of self-respect long ago.

But sorry didn´t do it for Per. “Sorry? That´s it? That´s all you´ve got so say about lumbering me with that freak of nature? Sorry?” Per was almost shouting now.

Eric was distracted from his drawing and looked at them with uncomprehending but watchful eyes.

“Mama?” he asked warily.

Gunhild quickly turned to him and said soothingly, “It´s alright, angel boy, everything is alright. Daddy is just a little upset. But it will be alright.” And the moment she said it, she knew it was a mistake. She should have just grabbed Eric and gotten him out of Per´s sight. But sometimes she didn´t know anymore what was right and what was wrong.

Per exploded, grabbed her arm, swung her around and screamed in her face, “What did you say? Daddy? I´m not that little freak´s Daddy, I would never produce something like that. You fucked another man. That freak is no son of mine.”

“Per please”, she begged, „You know that´s not true, calm down.”

“You think you can tell me what to do, you slut? Nobody tells me what to do, especially not unfaithful slutty wives. I think you need to be taught a lesson.” And in the same instant he slapped her across the face. Eric started crying loudly.

Per strode over to him and dragged him out of his chair by his little arm. Eric wailed in terror and pain.

Gunhild was immediately by his side and tried to loosen Per´s grip on Eric´s arm. “Per”, she cried, “Please let him go, you´re hurting him.”

Per took Eric´s arms in one hand and with the other gave her a hard shove, so that Gunhild flew backward and landed on her back.

He spat out at her „I’m taking him where he belongs. From now on the bastard can stay in the stables with the other animals, where he belongs. And then we will have some order in this house again.” He began dragging Eric towards the door.

By that time Eric was screaming like a banshee and choking on his tears.

Gunhild struggled to her feet, lunged at Per and held him back by the back of his shirt.

“Please Per, please,” she cried, “he´s only a little boy. He doesn´t understand. He´s sick, he has a weak heart, you might kill him. He might have a heart attack.”

Per turned and tried to shake her off, “Well that would be the best thing for all of us, wouldn´t it? In fact you´ve just given me an idea. I´ll just scare the little bastard so much that he´ll drop dead on the spot.” And he continued to drag little Eric, who was howling at the top of his voice, by the arm towards the door.

Gunhild held on to his shirt and tried to drag him back. Per let go of Eric, turned, grabbed her by the front of her blouse and brutally shoved her backwards against the wall, one hand held tightly around her neck, while he prepared to deal a blow to her face with the other.

Eric was on the floor and curled into a fetal position, quietly whimpering. At that moment they heard a knock on the front door and shortly after they heard a voice calling out, “Hello? Anyone home?”

It was Frederik Hellström. Thank God, Gunhild thought. Frederik Hellström was also a drunk and a gambler, but he was no wife and child abuser. He would not approve if he happened to walk in on a scene of domestic violence. And for reasons that Gunhild couldn´t fathom, Per wanted Frederik´s approval.

Per let go of Gunhild and hissed, “Get yourself and that freak out of here. I don´t want him to see you like this, you pathetic bitch.”

Gunhild lost no time in following his orders. She grabbed Eric from the floor, carried him into her bedroom and locked the door. Then she sat on her bed and cradled Eric in her arms for a long time. And she knew clear as crystal that she had to go and leave Per as soon as possible. Right away. He harboured an irrational, vicious hate against Eric and he would never leave him alone. Maybe he would really kill him one day. She had to protect Eric and she could only do that if she left. Gunhild had packed a suitcase and then with Eric in tow had crept past the living room, where Per had been entertaining Frederik Hellström. And then she had driven herself and Eric right out of there and into a new life. And she had never looked back.

Chapter 12

Nadja Cederbrink had just returned from taking her son Tim to school that morning. Usually he cycled to school but that day they were going on an excursion and he had more stuff than usual to carry. She had just opened the door, when the phone rang. Nadja caught it on the third ring, “Hej, Nadja here.” “Guess who?” an unwelcome familiar voice said.

Nadja closed her eyes. No, she thought, it couldn´t be, he couldn´t have found out her number, it was a new one and unregistered.

“Did you think getting a new number would help?” the voice said again, “All I have to do is ask your parents, you stupid bitch. I´m good at making up stories.”

Of course, Nadja thought, her parents, she had forgotten to tell them not to hand out her number to anyone. Damn. But why did they think she had an unregistered number if they then went and handed it out to everyone who asked for it? But they were old and she couldn´t blame them.

“What do you want?” she asked stiffly.

“I want to see Tim.”

Nadja laughed hoarsely, “Forget it. Never, ever, ever.”

“Oh is that so? Never, ever? That long, huh? Well in that case I shall just have to give your husband a ring, won´t I? I have his number, too, you know. And I know where he works. Might pay him a visit. I have all the time in the world. Don´t think you´d like that though.”

Nadja froze. What to do? What to do? She couldn´t let him talk to Jan. Everything would brake apart. Her whole life, her marriage. Damn that man. She hated him with all her heart. Really hated him.

“Hello? You still there? I want an answer, I´m not going away until I get one. I want to see Tim and soon.” His voice was louder and aggressive now.

She thought quickly, “Alright, alright. You win. You can see him, but of course I will have to prepare him for such a meeting. You understand that, don´t you? He´s twelve now, not a baby. He needs to know certain things before he meets you and it will take time, you understand don´t you?”

“Yes,” he said calmer now, “I understand. Fine, but not too long, I´m not a patient man, you know. I´ll be in touch again, soon. Hejdo”. He hung up.

Nadja sat there for a while longer, holding the receiver in her hand. This had to stop. The man was ruining her whole life. She was constantly afraid that he was going to show up on her doorstep or contact Jan and tell him everything. She couldn´t even sleep anymore at night without taking pills. And now he wanted to see Tim.

You will never see my son, I will kill you first, she thought.

Chapter 13

Sören was standing at his office window, admiring the view of the Kalmar castle against the frosty morning sun. It was the middle of September now and days were noticeably getting cooler. He loved the castle, had always loved it. Its history stretched back over 800 years. During the 12th century a defense tower was erected to protect against pirates and other sea-faring enemies. A harbour was constructed and in the course of time a castle grew around the original tower. Nowadays the castle hosted various events, like concerts, dinners and banquets and fairs. And of course it was always possible to just simply visit and wander the rooms of the exhibition.

Kalmar had the makings of a big city, it was a bustling centre of commerce, and yet retained its old worldly charm and small town intimacy. An intimacy Sören had wanted to escape from when he was younger.

Kalmar was, as ever, surrounded by water. Few cities could boast of a natural beach so close to the city centre. It was unique and it was beautiful to him.

Lately he had been spending a lot of time gazing out of windows, lost in daydreaming. Surely that was a bad sign, but for what? Middle age or discontentment or the opposite? He really couldn´t say. He supposed he could rule out middle-age, since he wasn´t even in his mid thirties yet and he didn´t feel the least bit discontent.

He had gotten rid of Anna as soon as possible.

They had talked through her business plan and when she had asked him out to lunch, he had graciously declined and she had understood that she had only been one-night stand for him. He hoped she wasn´t desperate or clingy, because he had had his fare share of bad experiences with hysterical, love- sick women. One had once put an axe through the windshield of his brand new Aston Martin. Women really knew how to hurt you and that had really hurt.

An axe for God´s sake. That had been in London.

He had sold the car when he moved back to Öland. There was just no way you could be respected and liked by Ölanders and drive yourself around in an Aston Martin. People just wouldn´t have it, unless you were King Gustav, who was regularly spotted in the summer driving his Ferrari or one of his other sports cars around the island. It was also acceptable if you were a Stockholmare, meaning someone from Stockholm, who had a summer house on the island, but spent most of the year in Stockholm. But for him as someone who lived there permanently, it was just not on. People would think he was an idiot for spending that much money on a car and they would probably be right.

God, he hoped Clarice was still there when he got home and Per Nielson had miraculously died of a heart attack.

Chapter 14

Clarice was having an unusually long day at the university. Normally she was only there to deliver her lectures followed by a bit of a question and answer session with the students and some more detailed follow up discussions in her office. She preferred doing all her paper work and research at home. She really didn´t like being around so many people all the time, it made her nervous and restless.

And she hated long, boring meetings spiked with unnecessary detailed discussions about issues that didn´t really concern her. But she had noticed that Swedish people loved boring, prolonged meetings and discussing every point on the agenda to death.

Due to her little scene with Sören that morning she had missed breakfast and since she hated canteen food she had skipped lunch too, thinking she would be going home soon and would cook something there. This was a relic from her past. She had grown up learning to cherish good food. Which was why she was always happy to join Sören at any given meal he invited her to share with him, because Nanna was an excellent cook.

And she also enjoyed his company, but would rather hack of her right hand before admitting this to anyone but herself. Clarice was a very accomplished cook too but since she lived alone and never invited anyone home, her cooking skills had remained as yet undetected by anyone who knew her. That was fine with her.

So she had been packing up and just about to leave when the department secretary had informed her about the meeting with the other faculty members.

“Shit” she had thought, rather uncharacteristically, since she rarely cursed, “Now I´m going to have to get something from the canteen.”

She had bought herself a prawn sandwich, which the woman in the canteen had to prepare freshly for her, since the lunch time crowd had already been and gone and prawn sandwiches were very popular. Preparing the sandwich took an unduly long time, but Clarice was used to this by now. Swiftness of service was not a common thing anywhere outside of Stockholm. When she had first moved to Kalmar she had paid a visit to McDonalds. All she had wanted was a cappuccino to go, since she never ate fast food. The place had been packed but the staff behind the counter had carried on serving people at their usual calm and unhurried pace and Clarice had waited in line a good thirty minutes before she was served. What had fascinated her most was that not a single person in the seemingly endless queue complained. Everyone had just stood patiently and quietly in line until it was their time to be served. Clarice had visited many countries where the slowness of the staff would have resulted in a riot. But this was Sweden and slow service was a way of life.

Clarice was eventually presented with a prawn sandwich and prepared for a long afternoon locked up in the faculty meeting room. As expected every point on the seemingly endless agenda was magnified from every angle and her mind began to wander. Usually she was always caught up in her work, pondering mathematical theories while giving the impression of being an avid listener. Today her mind kept going back to Rettinge and her little home there. She loved the gård and she loved Vickleby, it was the most beautiful place she had ever lived in. Well, maybe not ever, but for a long time anyway. And she had lived in quite a lot of places in the past few years, never staying long. As soon as people got too close or inquisitive she had packed up and left. She hadn´t even always been employed in her line of work, which meant academic work. Once she had worked at a Vineyard in the south of Germany, picking grapes and generally helping with the busy time of autumn harvesting. She knew about wine, another relic from her past.

Sören was not inquisitive and neither were any of the other people on the gård. Swedish people were in general not inquisitive. They liked to keep to themselves.

And that suited her very well.

Sören had instinctively known when to stop asking questions. And Tilda, Magnus and Alma were too wrapped up in their own life to be bothered about Clarice.

She thought about Tilda and her little son. She had grown very fond of the little chap. He was adorable with his shock of brown hair and those glasses. He looked like the little professor. She liked children because they took everything in their stride and always lived in the present with no concept of tomorrow. And they soaked up information like a sponge.

She knew that Tilda was a little weary of her and didn´t quite know what to make of Clarice and of course she had this huge minority complex, because she was just a cleaning lady.

Clarice didn´t give a toss about anyone´s line of work as long as they were good people and didn´t intrude on her life. She actually liked and admired Tilda.

Sören had filled her in on the sorry details of Tilda´s life and considering what she had gone through, she was holding up really well and doing a great job on the kid.

At least Clarice had had a happy and privileged childhood, regardless of what had happened later. She wished that horrid old man, Tilda´s father would just go up in smoke. He was a real pest; if not for him life on Rettinge would be perfect.

Chapter 15

When Sören returned from work in the evening he was really tired, almost exhausted.

The unusually persistent economic crisis had taken its toll on everyone and he couldn´t exclude himself from the general feeling of insecurity and apprehension every employer and employee was going through. His clients were nervous and unwilling to part with large chunks of money right now and uneasy about bigger investments. It took a lot of diplomatic smooth talking on his part to hold everything together. He turned right into Rettinge, passed Tilda´s and Clarice´s houses and his heart stopped. Her car was not there. She was not home and she was always home by this time. She never went anywhere, so where the hell was she? He got out of the car , walked over to her house and knocked. Nothing happened. He looked through the window, but since she had brought no personal items with her, the look of the place didn´t really give him any clue, whether she still lived there or not. Had she packed up and booked a one way ticket to Brazil never to be seen again, as he had always feared she might? Strangely enough he felt a little scared. He knew nothing about her, he wouldn´t know how to find her, if she had left. Should he ask Tilda if she had seen Clarice leave with a suitcase and risk looking like a fool?

Maybe she was just working late, but surely lectures where during the day? Students needed time to party in the evening, right? There were no lectures in the evening? Maybe she had had an accident, perhaps he should he call the police? But he had just come from Kalmar. There was only one route you could take over from Kalmar to Rettinge and he would have noticed her car on the road. At least that flip chart which she used to write her strange string theories on was still there. It was covered with a lot of numbers and letters and mathematical signs, which was all mumble jumble to him, but obviously meant something to her. She had once attempted to explain just the basics of what she constantly occupied herself with to him and he had pretended to understand. Except that he hadn´t, not a single word. His mind had shut down after Clarice had lectured him that force meaning earth gravity equals mass times 9.5 or 9.8 per second, ergo ma equals mg or something. He couldn´t remember and he would never ask again, unless he had the masochistic urge of wanting to feel really, really stupid.

Jesus, he needed a shower and he needed to eat and he needed a drink and then he would decide what to do about Clarice, if she hadn´t shown up by then.

Chapter 16

After dinner she had still not come home. He should ring the university. What faculty dealt with theoretical physics? What if she wasn´t there? Oh hell, this was ridiculous; he was a grown man, a successful man. And he was pacing around his own house, looking out of the window every few minutes, waiting for her to appear, like a love-sick teenager, or a jealous psychopath. Was she with a man? Did she have a boyfriend?

Someone from the university maybe?

Okay, he had to stop this right now or he really would turn into one of those creeps who hijacked young women and kept them prisoner in their basement for endless periods of time.

If she didn´t come back, she didn´t come back. He would survive; he had a life to live. He had lived without her before, hadn´t he? And he hadn´t been unhappy, so what had changed?

Everything, he knew that now.

There - he heard a car.

He looked outside. Yes it was her.

He felt immensely relieved. He would go over there right now and ask her what the hell she thought she was doing coming home at this late hour.

He walked over and knocked on her door. She had only just come in herself, so she opened at once.

“Hi”, she said.

“Where have you been?” Sören demanded to know.

“Excuse me?”

“Where have you been, why did you come home so late. I didn´t know where you were, you could have called, you know.”

Clarice was nonplussed. Was this really normal behavior for a landlord? She looked behind her, just to make sure that Sören was really talking to her and not some other person standing behind her. But of course there was no one there.

“Er, I wasn´t aware that I needed to justify my whereabouts to you or keep you informed about my timetable,” she said snootily.

Sören bristled at that, “Oh to hell with that. And don´t use that snooty tone of voice on me, it doesn´t suit you. You never go anywhere, you never have anyone here, you always come home the same time every day and then all of sudden you come home late, so where were you?”

“You know Sören, there was always something I wanted to ask you.”

“What?”

“Are you nuts?”

Now he was really annoyed.

“You think I´m nuts because I worry about you? Why did you come home so late? Were you with a man, is that it? You can tell me you know and then...well then I´ll know.”

Clarice was starting to feel a little more than irritated herself now, “Well, call me King sensitive of the year, but you didn´t seem that worried about me this morning did you? After you spent the night with Stick Insect. You told me in not so many words to stay away from the house and from you.”

“I never said that.”

“Well, I must have misinterpreted your words then. So when you said “don´t walk around here like you’re the lady of the manor and don´t talk to me anymore”, you really meant “I care and worry about you?” That´s quite a complex code you´ve got going there, Sören, do you always say exactly the opposite of what you feel?”

“I was angry with you, I admit that. But I never told you not to talk to me anymore and why am I standing here defending myself? You were out of order then, I know it and you know it and now I want to know where you have been tonight.”

“None of your business,” Clarice answered curtly.

He was stunned, “Excuse me? What? None of my business? You have been sticking your nose into my business all the time ever since you moved in. You walk in and out of my house at your pleasure and you know, that´s fine, I actually like that, because I like you. You have gotten heaps of information out of me about my life, my interests, my past relationships, and my business. Anything you wanted to know I have told you and what have I gotten from you? Nothing, zero, zilch. And I haven´t been intrusive. I accepted that there is something, some unprocessed trauma in your past that makes it impossible for you to share personal details with anyone and you will run away from anyone or anything that forces you into confronting that trauma. But there is a limit to my patience and now I want to know where you have been and I am not leaving before you tell me.”

Clarice was speechless. Speechless because everything he had said was true. He understood her a lot better than she thought he did.

The door of Tilda´s house opened.

“Um, I´m sorry to interrupt, but Oscar just woke up. You´ve been kind of loud, you know shouting at each other and everything. Could you turn it down a bit, maybe?”

They both turned to stare at her. Neither had been aware of shouting.

Tilda bit her lip and said “Um, okay then, goodnight.” She went back inside.

There was a brief silence, and then Clarice said very quietly, “I was at the university.”

“In the evening?”

“I had a meeting. A very long meeting. I have to attend meetings now and again, you know. I am part of the faculty. And you Swedish people like long, boring, democratic discussions.”

“Yes, I know. Alright, that´s alright then. I just wanted to know. I really was worried, you know and I do care about you a lot. I think you should know that. Please don´t pack your bags and run away, I want you to stay. You will stay, won´t you?”

“Yes.”

“Good, that´s good.”

“Good night Sören.”

“Good night.”

He turned to leave, but then changed his mind, bent down and gave her a gentle, lingering kiss on the cheek.

Clarice felt a shiver run down her back.

“See you tomorrow then.”

He left; she closed the door and leaned against it. Yikes, this was getting too close for comfort. Why couldn´t he be an old, fat, ugly lord of the manor? Why did he have to be so understanding and insightful and so good looking?

“What to do, what to do?”

Nothing, that was the answer, she would do nothing and just let things take its stride.

Like Oscar.