‘Now we’re going to play charades!’ Oswald exclaimed once they had taken their seats.
Little waves of uneasiness spread through the room. Sofia tried to figure out if this was a joke they were expected to laugh at, and turned up the corners of her mouth, but then she realized Oswald was serious. His eyes were amused and sharp all at once.
He’d asked her to call all the unit heads to the office. Bosse’s whole gang. Mona for the library; Olof for personal advising; Anna for the annexes and Katarina for the garden. Yes, Anna and Katarina were to come too, whether or not they were in Penance. Plus Benjamin for the transport team and Ulf, who was responsible for the farm.
‘I hope you don’t find this degrading. After all, you didn’t protest when I was wrestling with that disgusting fatty the other day. So I thought maybe you were in the mood for a game.’
No one said anything. Being in his presence had started to feel like walking a tightrope. You had to react properly, avoid missteps, or else you would tumble into a pit of uncomfortable surprises.
‘I’m sure you know the rules. I’ve even made the cards myself.’
There was a pile of index cards in front of him, and he held up the top one. Bosse’s name was written on the back in marker.
A shrill laugh broke the silence. It was Ulf from the farm; he had misread the situation and thought Oswald was joking. Or maybe it just slipped out. Oswald stood up and clenched his fists until his knuckles went white. Ulf had already swallowed his laughter, but Oswald was heading for him.
Now he’s in for it, she thought. Yet she noticed that the urge to intervene was weaker than it had been last time. It was too dangerous, even idiotic, because it wouldn’t help. Instead she summoned that voice of reason from the back of her mind.
I’ll deal with this later. There’s nothing I can do right now.
But Oswald stopped before he reached Ulf.
‘I can assure you, Ulf, that this is no joke.’
‘No, sir, I understand. Forgive me.’
‘Good, because it’s very simple. You will each receive a card with your name on it. On the back is one word. You have to get the rest of the group to guess the word. Without speaking, of course. You may only use gestures and sounds, just like in charades. And I’ll time you!’ He held up a stopwatch. ‘When you’re done, you will fasten the card to your uniform with a safety pin so the whole staff can see it. The safety pins are over there on the table.’
He pointed at the table in the corner where she usually put his mail. He really had planned this carefully, arranged it behind her back. That needled her. Not so much the ridiculous game, but the fact that he’d excluded her from his plans. That she was one of those to be humiliated.
‘And there’s a prize, of course,’ he went on. ‘Whoever is fastest doesn’t have to wear their card. So hurry it up, we don’t have all day.’
He picked up the pile of cards and walked around placing them on each person’s lap, name up.
Bosse stepped up in front of the others and stood so the group was in front of him and Oswald, who was sitting at his desk, was behind him. He looked down at his card, embarrassed and clearly off balance.
‘The clock is ticking,’ Oswald said.
Bosse squatted down, shuffled forward, and flapped his arms.
‘Bird!’ someone shouted.
‘Rooster!’
‘Duck!’
Bosse shook his head frantically and clucked loudly.
Suddenly it came to her. The word Oswald often used to describe Bosse.
‘Chickenshit,’ she called.
Bosse nodded and shot her a grateful look as he stood up.
‘Come here and give me the card, Bosse.’
Bosse hurried over to obey.
‘Turn around.’
Oswald fastened the card on Bosse’s back so everyone could see the big, sprawling letters. CHICKENSHIT.
‘You may not take it off until I give you permission. Once you’ve shown some initiative. Maybe even a little leadership. Your turn, Ulf.’
Ulf was one of the hardest workers on the property. He always pitched in when help was needed; he was almost imposingly cheerful, laughed nervously at his own jokes, and always tried to please everyone. But now he looked terribly unhappy as he stood there gazing down at his card and scratching his head. He pointed at his leg.
‘Leg!’
‘Kick!’
He shook his head. Again he gestured down along his leg, then pointed to his teeth and his head.
‘Bone!’ Benjamin called.
Ulf nodded, patting his hands on his head again.
‘Idiot!’
‘Head!’
‘Skeleton!’
Ulf shook his head, at a loss. No one said anything for a moment; their ideas had run out. Ulf got down on his knees and banged his head against a chair.
‘Bonehead!’ Anna shrieked.
Ulf exhaled and picked up his card.
Most of them had gotten caught up in the game. The mood was jolly — after all, it was only a game and Oswald looked so cheerful as he watched them.
Now it was Anna’s turn. She giggled when she read her card. Oswald shot her a warning look, so she stiffened and thought for a moment. She tugged at her shirt, flapping its hem. She shook out her whole body. Went back to the shirt. She alternated between the two several times. It took ages for someone to catch on; in the meantime people called out everything from ‘hot’ to ‘seizures.’
‘Loose.’
Madeleine had finally figured it out.
‘Ooh, damn!’ Oswald said. ‘That took almost two minutes. That’s what happens when you have an excess of hormones and a shortage of brain cells.’
Anna’s cheeks flushed as she went to fetch a safety pin. She began to fasten the card at the bottom edge of her blazer.
‘Not there,’ said Oswald. ‘Right over your chest where everyone can read it. Either there, or I’ll put it on your back.’
She quickly moved the card up and Oswald nodded at Benjamin.
His eyes were locked on Sofia’s for a moment as he stood before them. Then he looked down at the card and smiled. He began to dart his head this way and that as if avoiding flying objects. Dodger, of course. Oswald’s great complaint about Benjamin was that he always shirked his duties. The answer was on the tip of Sofia’s tongue, but she waited for someone else to guess. She didn’t want to attack Benjamin. She was still having trouble getting to grips with this peculiar game.
But Oswald was on top form. He could hardly contain himself each time a new person fastened their card to their clothes.
Mona, who was next to last, stiffened when she read her card. Her eyes moved between the card and the group again and again. She couldn’t seem to start; her legs were shaking and all the colour had drained from her face.
‘We don’t have all day,’ Oswald said, drumming his fingers on the desk.
Mona couldn’t get a grip on herself. She stood perfectly still, her mouth open as if her jaw was locked. Her eyelids fluttered as if she might faint.
Oswald came over to her.
‘You stop this nonsense, or there will be consequences. We don’t have all day here.’
Mona turned away and stared down at the floor.
‘Come here, Anna!’ Oswald called. Anna quickly minced up to him.
‘Look at her,’ he said, pointing at Mona. ‘This is how she looks after three days on the ViaTerra program. She can’t even play a child’s game. How do you feel when you look at her?’
‘Angry,’ Anna responded. ‘Really angry, in fact.’
‘Go closer,’ Oswald said. ‘Look at that sour face. Do you know what it says on her card?’
‘Nope,’ said Anna.
‘It says “sourpuss”, of course. And she doesn’t want to admit it, that she walks around here poisoning ViaTerra with her negative energy.’
‘Ugh, nasty,’ said Anna.
‘That’s right. What do you want to do with her now?’
Anna tried to make eye contact, but Mona wouldn’t look at her. Anna grabbed her head and pulled it up. Mona’s gaze was still distant, like a little kid who doesn’t want to give in.
‘I actually feel like I want to smack her,’ Anna said.
‘Then do it!’ Oswald replied. ‘Why do you all make me do your dirty work? There’s no peer pressure here. Do whatever you want to her, Anna.’
Anna didn’t hesitate. Her hand flew up and cracked against Mona’s cheek. And again, even harder. Mona didn’t speak or move, but an angry red patch flared where Anna’s palm had struck her. A single tear trickled down her cheek.
‘Stop being such a pussy,’ said Anna.
‘That’s right,’ said Oswald. ‘You can both sit down again.’
Sofia watched them: Anna’s haughty expression and Mona’s awkward presence. She wondered why Oswald had chosen Anna in particular. She supposed he knew she would do anything for him.
‘Your turn, Sofia. I saved the best for last.’
When she looked at her own card, she burned with rage, because the word there was so unfair and unwarranted. Then again, it wouldn’t be hard. She stuck her hands out and pretended to straddle something. The group was well warmed up by now.
‘Witch!’
‘Five seconds. No label for you, Sofia. Congratulations, you won!’
Benjamin’s eyes found hers; she saw a gleam of amusement in them.
You stupid little Oswald clone, she thought. I’ll deal with you later.
They were allowed to take a break after the game.
‘Get back to work so you can get something done before dinner. We’ll discuss this later tonight,’ said Oswald.
*
The mood at dinner was subdued. No one on staff wanted to ask about the labels. But they certainly stared and whispered. Sofia found that she felt some schadenfreude over being spared a label. She tried to ignore the general mood and was spearing a few beans on her fork when her pager buzzed in her blazer pocket.
Same gang to my office again after dinner.
She knew he meant everyone with the labels. She quickly wrote all their names down on her notepad and walked around the dining room to let them know. Everyone was there but Mona, so she sent a message to her pager.
The chairs were as they’d left them in the office. She sneaked a look at the desk: no papers or cards. Just Oswald, who was reading something at his computer. He must have showered, because his hair was damp and the office smelled like soap and aftershave. He was wearing one of those white shirts that never seemed to wrinkle.
‘I told them to.’
‘Then you can sit beside me. After all, you won the contest.’ He pointed at a little stool in front of his chair. She sat down and felt immediately ridiculous, like a schoolgirl who had gotten the best grade on a test.
The others came up the stairs, panting. They collected themselves, then slipped in and sat down.
‘Is everyone here?’
Bosse looked around and nodded.
‘I just want to know what you learned from our little game today,’ said Oswald. No one dared to answer at first, but then Ulf raised his hand.
‘Well, if we don’t deal with situations around here then you have to do it. And that makes us more like training wheels instead of the engines in our own machinery. Sort of.’
Oswald considered this and nodded slowly.
‘Yes, maybe. But you’re not even training wheels. You’ve become completely destructive. You’re not even cogs or spokes — you’re a wrench in the works.’
The room filled with a dull murmur of agreement.
‘I hope you’ve learned something,’ he said. ‘Because next time we’ll play musical chairs and the losers will jump from Devil’s Rock — all except for the one who gets the last chair, of course. And after that we can play duck duck goose.’
He was dead serious. Sofia let her eyes rest on Benjamin’s face for a moment. He looked grim and tense.
That was when she noticed the empty chair behind him.
Mona’s chair.
‘Mona’s missing!’ she cried.
She stood up so quickly that her stool tipped backwards and thudded onto Oswald’s foot. But by the time he yelped she was already halfway out the door. There was only one thing on her mind. She had to find Mona, and fast.
‘We need to have a little talk about your future,’ he says solemnly.
I don’t get why he always has to be so bombastic. As if everything he does is a great sacrifice.
I don’t believe he actually likes me, but it’s become convenient to have me here. Less bitching from his wife.
And he had to think about the future — with Bugeye as his sole heir, it wasn’t looking so hot.
I know all of that.
And yet I force myself to give him a grateful look.
‘You have to have an identity,’ he says. ‘You know, a name and so on. Fredrik Johansson no longer exists. And he’s not going to rise again.’
You have no idea, I think.
He can tell that my thoughts have wandered for a moment, but his reading of me is all wrong. As usual.
‘Don’t worry, we can still call you Fredrik if you like. As a nickname.’
‘Can’t you just adopt me, so I can be a von Bärensten? That’s what I am, after all.’
‘It’s not that simple, Fredrik. You can’t adopt someone who doesn’t exist, as I’m sure you understand. You need a name, a birth certificate, all of that.’
‘I still really want to be named von Bärensten,’ I say.
‘I’m sure we can work that out.’
‘I have to thank you,’ I say. ‘For everything you’ve done for me.’
Jesus, it sounds so smarmy.
But he swallows it hook, line, and sinker.
‘You’re welcome, Fredrik. You’ve really come to be part of our little family.’
That’s the least a person could say. I’m Emilie’s confidant and Bugeye has been following me around like a shadow ever since we started our games.
‘A man is coming tomorrow to help with the paperwork,’ he says. ‘You’ll be there, but I’ll handle the talking.’
‘Does he know who I am?’
‘No, he doesn’t. And he’s not going to ask.’