Fire, page 40
She starts pulling pages out of her notebook and hands them around. But she grasps the true significance of this for the first time when she sees her own hand take a piece of paper. She’ll have to tell Ida everything about herself. Her habits and routines, all the little secrets that add up to a person’s private life.
56
Anna-Karin vaguely remembers that there’s an old saying about how you learn to know your enemy by walking in his shoes.
So far, it has been surprisingly satisfying to be in Ida’s shoes. To be in her body, generally.
Anna-Karin takes a few tentative running steps as she walks along the road through the posh residential district. And it feels as if she’s flying. Her body is light and strong, ready to keep running for ages.
After a few blocks she sees Ida’s home and walks the last bit up to the gate. She listens to her own breathing. Even that seems unfamiliar.
How many times has she wondered about what’s going on inside that house? If there are any dark secrets hidden behind these green walls, secrets which might help to explain the mystery that is Ida Holmström?
Anna-Karin stops by the front door. She has forgotten which of the keys on the ring she should use. While trying them out, she runs through what she remembers of the things on Ida’s list. Her father’s name is Anders, her mother is Carina and the little kids are Rasmus and Lotta. Ida’s room is nearest the top of the stairs. Her toothbrush is red. She always uses a special range of skincare products, which Anna-Karin can’t pronounce the name of, and she always sleeps with a bra on to avoid droopy breasts when she is older.
Anna-Karin finds the door key at last and steps inside the hall. She hears voices and the clatter of cutlery from somewhere inside the house.
A woman’s voice calls out.
‘Ida?’
When Anna-Karin bends to pull her boots off, there is nothing in the way. As she straightens up, she marvels again at how different Ida’s body feels. So much more … obedient.
Her own body, on the other hand, is more like an appendage to her head. A shapeless bulk that is essential to her when she needs to move from point A to point B. An object that is best kept hidden under layers of clothing.
‘Ida?’ the woman calls again.
‘Yes?’ Anna-Karin replies hesitantly.
It still feels so odd to hear Ida’s voice like this. It sounds deeper than usual.
‘We’ve already eaten. Are you coming?’
Anna-Karin takes a deep breath and walks to the kitchen.
Everything in there is white. Just nudging something might leave dirty fingerprints, she thinks. The overall look is cool and expensive. And the family seated at the kitchen table project the same image.
Anna-Karin has seen Ida’s parents before and always thought them somehow too perfect. As if they have just been unpacked from their box. The kids are miniature copies of Ida. Anna-Karin shudders a little as her mind speeds through a montage of classic clips from her nastiest childhood memories. She wonders if Lotta and Rasmus are like their big sister in other ways, too.
Ida’s father looks up and it strikes her how like Erik Forslund he is. A blonde, middle-aged Erik Forslund. She shudders again.
‘Why are you looking at us like that?’ Anders says.
‘Your eyes will pop out of your head,’ Rasmus says and then he and Lotta start to laugh in that exaggerated way kids sometimes do, as if they have to laugh just for the sake of laughing.
‘Rasmus,’ Ida’s mother says in an admonishing tone.
‘But her eyes looked just as if they would,’ Rasmus says sulkily. ‘And there are dogs that can have their eyes falling out, honestly.’
Anna-Karin settles down on the free chair at the table. Ida’s mother pushes a large bowl of salad towards her.
‘The fish is keeping warm on the cooker,’ she adds.
Anna-Karin serves herself salad, then goes to pick up the last piece of steamed fish from the pan.
As soon as she starts eating she realises how hungry Ida’s body is. The food is incredibly good, too. When was Anna-Karin last offered home-cooking?
‘How are you?’ Ida’s mother asks.
Anna-Karin swallows a mouthful of fish, looks up and tries out a reply.
‘Fine?’
But that isn’t the right thing to say. She sees that from the wrinkles that appear on Carina Holmström’s normally ever-so-smooth forehead.
‘Right, children. You may leave the table now,’ she says without taking her eyes off Anna-Karin.
Rasmus and Lotta bounce happily off their chairs and charge out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
‘Darling, why haven’t you told us about what’s happened?’ Ida’s mother asks.
Anna-Karin looks at the two concerned parental faces.
If only they were horrible. It would make it so very much easier to understand Ida. So endlessly much easier to forgive her.
‘You see, we’ve heard about Erik and that girl,’ Anders says. ‘Terrible.’
‘Yes, it is. How can she go around spreading these tales?’ Carina says. ‘Of course, she must be mentally unstable.’
‘That is no excuse at all,’ the father says and glances at his wife. ‘That kind of person isn’t helped by being indulged all the time.’
‘No, of course. That’s true,’ Carina says. ‘You must be utterly distraught, Ida.’
They both look at Anna-Karin, waiting for an answer.
‘Umm,’ is all she can think of.
‘The thing is, Erik is such a kind young man,’ Carina says. ‘Robin is different, of course. It isn’t hard to see why the boy might be a bit difficult – his mother has her own problems to cope with. But Erik! How could anyone even think of it?’
‘Erik is a born leader, just like Ida,’ Anders says. ‘Some people will always be envious of leaders, that’s par for the course.’
Anna-Karin realises there might be an explanation about why Ida is who she is, after all. She can’t keep quiet any longer.
‘Erik is not kind,’ she says. ‘Actually, neither am I, not all the time.’
‘What do you mean?’ Carina asks.
‘Come on, one can’t go through life being kind,’ Anders says at the same time. ‘Cows are kind, all the way to the slaughterhouse.’
Anna-Karin feels a mad impulse to moo into his face, but the doorbell rings.
‘I’ll open the door!’ Lotta shouts and comes running downstairs.
‘Who can that be?’ Ida’s mother says and cranes her neck to try and catch a glimpse of the visitor through the window.
‘It’s Erik!’ Lotta yells.
‘Talk of the devil,’ Anders says.
Anna-Karin stands up but forgets about Ida’s muscular legs, pushes too hard and almost falls over backwards.
‘I don’t want to see him,’ she says.
She hears Erik chatting with Lotta in the hall and he sounds convincingly nice. A mother’s dream suitor for her daughter, which makes the whole thing even more terrifying.
Jump. Or we’ll throw you in.
Anna-Karin hurries off towards a doorway that doesn’t open into the hall.
‘Ida! What are you doing?’ Carina calls after her.
Anna-Karin finds herself in the living room. Desperate, she looks around. She hears Erik’s voice from the kitchen, asking for Ida. She doesn’t give herself time to find out what Ida’s parents tell him. She pushes the French windows open, hurries out on to an expanse of decking, closes the doors quietly again and runs across the damp planks in her stockinged feet. Then, down some steps and into the garden.
The ground is wet and cold. Her feet soon become soaked but she hardly notices. She is aiming for the playhouse and runs as fast as she can. Now and then, she glances quickly over her shoulder at the towering bulk of the villa behind her. The living-room light is on and through a window she sees Erik come into the room.
Anna-Karin slips around the corner of the playhouse and presses herself against the wall.
Ida would never hide like this. Anna-Karin, on the other hand, can’t face meeting Erik. He’s always frightened her and now she knows he’s a killer.
If he follows me I’ll climb the fence and run for it, she promises herself. She hears the French windows opening and tenses her whole body, ready for flight.
‘Ida!’ Erik shouts so loud it sends an echo around the garden. ‘Come here!’
She feels sure she’ll hear his footsteps on the decking any moment now. Nothing happens. After a while the doors are pulled close again.
Anna-Karin waits. She crosses her arms over her chest as the cold, raw wind burrows through Ida’s thin cardigan. She wishes she could escape into the fox’s mind but that bond has been cut.
Finally, the front door of the house opens and she hears Erik’s footsteps fade away as he walks along the street.
At last it seems safe to go inside.
Her socks are wet, freezing rags by now and she leaves foot-shaped marks on the white-limed living-room floor. She rips her socks off.
Anders Holmström’s bellowing voice shouts from the kitchen.
‘Ida! Come here at once and explain what you think you’re doing!’
Anna-Karin doesn’t answer him. She runs upstairs, two steps at a time, and slams the door to Ida’s room after her. To her huge relief she sees that there’s a key in the lock.
‘Ida!’ Carina calls and Anna-Karin hears her come upstairs.
The angry knock on the door makes her back away. Carina speaks from just outside.
‘Erik told us you’re friendly with that girl. And that she’s a junkie! Your dad and I don’t want you to keep that kind of company. Are you listening? Open the door!’
The door handle rattles.
‘We will not tolerate you going around with criminals,’ Carina says.
‘You don’t know Erik! You’ve no idea who he really is!’
Another pull at the door handle. Much harder this time.
‘Have it your own way, then,’ Carina snarls. ‘You’ll have to stay here all evening.’
‘Suits me!’ Anna-Karin screeches. Ida’s voice nearly hurts her ears.
‘What’s your problem? Have you started taking drugs, too? Do you?’
‘Of course I don’t!’
‘You’re too old for this kind of nonsense. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.’
As Carina Holmström walks away, she manages to make the sound of her footsteps spell out her anger.
If only she knew who her darling Erik truly is, Anna-Karin thinks.
But Ida’s mother would never believe the truth if she heard it.
She would simply refuse.
Linnéa drinks some of the tepid tea and observes herself sitting on the other side of the table.
She has wondered so many times about how Vanessa sees her. And now she is literally inside Vanessa’s head and able to look at herself through Vanessa’s eyes.
But, of course, it doesn’t make her any wiser. She is not Vanessa. That is just a trick with smoke and mirrors. Just as it isn’t actually herself she is looking at, but Minoo.
‘Another sandwich, Nessa?’ Jannike Dahl says, ready to hand her the bread basket.
‘No, thank you,’ Linnéa says.
‘It’s been so nice,’ Minoo says. ‘Really lovely tea as well.’
Her polite smile looks totally wrong in Linnéa’s face, but Vanessa’s mother hasn’t a clue, of course.
Linnéa drinks another mouthful and tries to ignore the dog who is sitting on the floor at her feet. Frasse is snuffling loudly and has angled his head so he can keep his eye on her.
Jannike doesn’t seem to have sensed anything out of the ordinary about her daughter. The dog has, though. And Melvin as well. When Jannike asked ‘Vanessa’ to read him a bedtime story, the kid brother had yelled protestingly at the top of his voice.
‘It’s very kind of you to let me sleep over here tonight,’ Minoo says.
‘Goes without saying,’ Jannike says. ‘I’m really glad to meet Nessa’s friends. And I’ve heard so much about you, Linnéa.’
Linnéa scrutinises her teacup. Tries not to show how happy this makes her.
‘That’s nice,’ Minoo says. ‘Only good things, I hope.’
When she is chatting with Vanessa’s mother, Minoo has this knack of making all her smarmy politeness sound quite natural. She must be used to grown-ups taking her seriously, even liking her.
‘I hope it’s okay with you to share a bed tonight,’ Jannike says.
Linnéa and Minoo exchange a quick glance.
‘Haven’t we got a spare mattress?’ Linnéa asks.
‘Nicke took it with him when he moved out. There’s the sofa, of course, but Melvin usually gets up really early. I think it’ll be easier for you to get a good night’s sleep if you can shut the door.’
‘That’s great, no problem at all,’ Minoo says and gets up. ‘Excuse me a moment.’
Linnéa tries not to think about her body being taken to the toilet by Minoo. Another thing she doesn’t want to think about is being left alone for the first time with this woman she has to pretend is her mother.
‘Nessa,’ Jannike says quietly when Minoo is out of earshot. ‘Nicke phoned me this morning.’
‘Did he?’ Linnéa says and tries to sound neutral.
‘He said he met you last night in Linnéa’s place. He also said something about a party that had got out of hand. And now you turn up here with Linnéa in tow and tell me there was a break-in. I don’t know what to think. Were you there, in the middle of the night? On a school night?’
Linnéa’s immediate instinct is to be defensive. Let Jannike think what she likes. But what would Vanessa do?
‘When I heard what had happened last night, I went round to see her,’ she says and carries on, trying to feel her way. ‘It was stupid of me. I should’ve told you first. But I was so terribly worried about Linnéa. And Nicke has got everything totally wrong.’
Jannike looks concerned but doesn’t comment.
‘There really had been a break-in,’ Linnéa says. ‘It’s the truth.’
She stops and looks uncertainly at Jannike.
‘I trust you,’ Vanessa’s mother says. ‘I don’t think you’d lie about something so serious. But if anything like that happens again, please tell me. Don’t just sneak away.’
Linnéa nods. It is all she can do.
‘I’m glad that you care about your friends, though,’ Jannike continues. ‘And Linnéa seems a very nice person. So polite. Tries a little too hard, perhaps, but a real sweetie.’
Minoo comes back into the kitchen. Jannike puts her arm around Linnéa’s shoulders, kisses her forehead and leaves.
For a moment, Linnéa can’t draw breath.
Vanessa’s body responded to the intimate touch, it felt so natural and calming. But to Linnéa, it was a reminder of what she has never experienced. And never will, ever.
Minoo has borrowed an old T-shirt from Vanessa’s wardrobe and scrubbed all the make-up from Linnéa’s face. Now, she is patting it dry with a towel that smells strongly of some alien washing powder.
She is jittery, every nerve in her body is vibrating. Even her fingertips are prickling. And she feels so restless she’d like to crawl out of her skin, this skin which after all isn’t hers.
All this will drive me off my head, she thinks as she examines Linnéa’s naked face in the mirror. I will probably go quite mad.
Everything is so confusing.
Minoo has never believed that body and soul can be separated, not completely anyway. Now, she knows for certain. Linnéa’s feelings for Vanessa are part of her whole body. When she sees Vanessa, who isn’t even the real Vanessa but Linnéa herself, Linnéa’s body responds with deep-rooted longing. It is so powerful that Minoo almost feels that she is the one in love with Vanessa.
Her head spins and she has to look away from the mirror.
Who is she actually seeing there and whose mind is producing these thoughts? Shouldn’t she be able to access Linnéa’s memories and emotions, now that she is thinking with Linnéa’s brain? Or does her awareness of being Minoo in fact come from her own brain, but somehow projected into Linnéa’s body?
Whichever brain Minoo is using to think with, by now it’s about to burst into flames.
‘How goes it?’ Linnéa asks when Minoo comes back to Vanessa’s room.
‘I don’t know. I feel so odd. Dizzy. And my fingers are kind of prickly. I hope the ritual hasn’t had any side effects.’
Linnéa watches her. And then bursts into laughter. Vanessa’s laughter.
‘You’re dying for a fag,’ she says. ‘Or, rather, I am.’
Linnéa lies awake in the dark while Minoo snores lightly next to her.
She had fallen asleep as soon as they had come back from having a cigarette outside. Linnéa had wanted a fag, too, but decided to spare Vanessa’s lungs. Somehow, it was perfectly obvious that the need she felt was purely in the mind.
She had had to show her how to go about smoking. Minoo was disgusted.
‘I just don’t get it,’ Minoo snorted. ‘I think it’s totally foul, but my body wants more of it all the same. Your body, that is.’
‘Just be glad I don’t do hard drugs any more,’ Linnéa said and laughed.
Minoo smiled and dragged clumsily on the cigarette.
‘It must be extra strange for you, this exchange thing,’ she said. ‘I mean, that you ended up inside Vanessa. The person you love.’
‘I try not to think about it,’ Linnéa said. ‘Everything seems deranged.’
It is totally deranged.
Here she is, sleeping in Vanessa’s bed, wrapped in Vanessa’s sheets. The bed is quite narrow and from close by she can feel the warmth of her own body.
Vanessa’s body responds to the closeness.
Linnéa doesn’t know what it means. Is it just being close that makes all the difference? Or is there some part of Vanessa that actually feels for her?
Whatever, it is as if Linnéa is aroused by herself, which is beyond deranged. So despite being very tired, she can’t sleep.
She carries on staring into the dark. Listening to the wind outside. She has almost dropped off to sleep when Vanessa’s mobile starts vibrating.
