ELLEN

10.10 P.M.

‘Oh, hi,’ Ellen said with surprise.

‘Hi, I heard you were here, so I came as soon as I could. Can I come in before it starts raining?’

It was Didrik from the neighbouring farm standing there grinning, with a little red bowtie around his neck. He held up a bottle of wine, and in his other hand was a basket. ‘I brought some charkisar with me, as they say in Stockholm. Everything’s from the farm.’

It was several years since they’d seen each other, but he sounded just as conceited now as then. Margareta had told her that he’d taken over his parents’ farm and did organic farming on the other side of the lake. Didrik’s mother had never liked Ellen, because she was a journalist and ‘broken’. And awful. But that seemed to excite Didrik. Mama’s little boy had just turned forty, and perhaps he’d finally cut the umbilical cord.

‘Is that for me?’ Ellen asked with sincere surprise as he handed over the basket.

‘Yes, or otherwise I thought maybe we could enjoy it together.’

Enjoy is the word, Ellen thought, smiling cautiously.

Didrik was actually friends with Ellen’s older brother, but he’d always been fond of Ellen and had made countless attempts to get together with her, everything from sending Do I have a chance? notes in primary school to serious dating suggestions with weekends in Paris and all that he now offered her. Ellen had really tried to be interested in him for a while many years ago, but there was something that never really clicked with Didrik. It was as if he came from a different generation, a little unworldly but still up to date.

Ellen’s mother had said once that they ought to be a couple, that it would be just as well. Ellen never fully understood what she’d meant by that: Margareta probably believed that she couldn’t get anyone better, even though Margareta also had a hard time with Didrik and his mother. Ellen thought perhaps it was because of something that had happened long ago, perhaps a family feud between the farms that was handed down.

‘Come in,’ she said. He never gave up, Didrik. She’d give him credit for that, anyway.

He kissed her first on one cheek, and then he lingered a little too long on the other. He smelt like a man: freshly showered, with a little too much aftershave.

‘Where is Dame Margareta?’

Ellen laughed. ‘The dame is sleeping.’ It sounded so silly. He could just as well have had little jester’s bells on his shoes. ‘Are you driving?’

‘Yes, but that isn’t a problem, as long as you don’t talk about it on TV. Estate owner drives drunk. You can picture the headlines.’

Ellen let him believe that it had some news value, didn’t want to crush his ego.

‘You don’t have any police on the island, do you? They’re the worst to rent property to, they have to report if they see anything. It gets to be a tricky situation for everyone concerned,’ he said, as if he was some kind of gangster.

‘Sure, if you participate in illegal activities.’

‘Well, we all do more or less, it’s impossible to get by otherwise. Who hasn’t done something they shouldn’t have?’

She didn’t want to dig deeper into that and so didn’t say anything.

‘You look great.’ He patted her carefully on her side.

‘Thanks.’

Ellen put the basket on the table and Didrik took out the contents. ‘I brought along red, white, and Champagne, I didn’t know what the lady would want.’

‘Red will be great,’ she said. ‘I’ve already opened a bottle.’ She gave him a drinking glass. ‘I’m not allowed to use the crystal, Mum doesn’t trust me.’

He nodded but looked a little frightened. ‘Uh, thirsty?’

Ellen had already knocked back the whole glass. She refilled and looked in wonder at the delicacies that Didrik was lining up on the table.

‘Did you bring a tablecloth with you?’ She couldn’t hold back the laughter.

‘Yes, I thought …’

‘No, sorry, this is really nice.’ She was genuinely trying to stop laughing, but it wasn’t possible.

She wasn’t really hungry, but forced down a piece of truffle salami, wild boar sausage, some creamy sheep cheese, which was actually pretty marvellous, and farm-grown radishes as well.

When they’d finished the first bottle, they opened one of the wines that Didrik had brought with him.

They talked about the farm, about his mother, who had finally moved out into the wing, and how he would start to live his life now. About Ellen’s brother and how they were in touch less and less often.

‘Shall we go into the library?’ She stood up, feeling the intoxication.

Didrik followed her like a faithful little dog.

They settled down on the Chesterfield sofa, but ended up a bit too close to each other. Ellen discreetly tried to inch away.

Didrik crossed his legs and looked around. ‘Well, here we are now, finally together in the library at Örelo.’

He truly sounded like a little old man.

‘Speaking of the library, I was at Culturum today. Not much has changed there since we were at school. It looked just the same as it did.’ She took a sip from her glass.

‘Just as quiet?’ He smiled.

Ellen emptied the glass and started to laugh. ‘Can I tell you a funny story?’

‘Please,’ said Didrik.

She heard how uninterested he sounded, but then, he had no idea how funny it was, and who didn’t appreciate a funny story? ‘Okay, a blonde came into a library and asked the woman behind the information counter.’ Ellen was already laughing so that tears were running down her face and was surprised by all the emotions that were whirling around inside her. If it wasn’t anxiety, then it was laughter, and she had no control over either of them.

‘Okay, do I get to hear the funny part, too?’

She continued but had a hard time getting the words out through all the laughter. ‘Okay, this is what the blonde says: “Can I order a hamburger with French fries?” The woman at the counter answers: “But dear, this is a library.” “Oh, sorry,” the blonde says, and leans forward and whispers: “Can I order a hamburger with French fries?”’

Now Didrik was laughing, too. ‘That was the absolute worst joke I’ve ever heard, but your feeling …’ He laughed so that he choked. ‘Do that again, whisper like that.’

They laughed loudly and brushed against each other.

Should she kiss him? It must be the wine, she thought, surprised at even having that thought. Maybe just once. But she didn’t want to hurt him or give him any false hopes. It would never be them. Never.

He refilled her glass.

She emptied it.

Although, he was a grown man who could take responsibility for himself. They could just have a little sex, right?

It was as if he could read her thoughts. He pushed her hair behind her ear and looked at her seriously. ‘How are you doing, really? Mama says you’ve had a tough summer, with your mental state and everything?’

Bang, and the bubble was burst. Didrik had just killed the desire that had been pulsing through Ellen’s body. How did he know that? The rumour must have spread quickly across the lake, and the circles on the water got bigger and bigger. Ellen had no desire whatsoever to comment on her mental health and add to the rumours in the village. Didn’t people have anything more sensible to worry about? She suddenly felt uncomfortable, and the quantity of wine she’d drunk made itself known.

The phone rang and frightened her. ‘I’d better answer,’ she said firmly, and saw her chance to get out of the situation. Staggered as she stood up to go to the hall. She had to stop drinking. After digging around in her bag for her mobile phone, she finally got it out. It felt as if she was dreaming. She stared at the display trying to confirm that it was really true. Jimmy.

‘Hi, it’s me,’ he said carefully when she answered. ‘Am I calling at a bad time?’

The southern Swedish accent that she hadn’t heard for so long made her completely weak in the knees. ‘Hi, no! Absolutely not,’ she said, sinking onto one of the chairs in the hall.

‘Who are you talking to?’ Didrik asked, showing up behind her.

‘It’s work, I’ll be back soon,’ Ellen answered. ‘Stay in the library for now.’ She waved him away and watched him as he staggered back. She could not for the life of her understand how she had been just about to sleep with him.

‘Who was that?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Just a friend. We’re watching a movie,’ she added for some strange reason.

‘Deep Throat or The Shining?’

She forced out a laboured laugh. For Ellen, it was like therapy. The movies closed out her emotions, made her think about something else, and kept the anxiety at bay. A horror film, a boxing session, or a porno film gave her breathing room. It was the sort of thing you kept to yourself, but Jimmy had exposed her habit the very first time he was at her place. ‘I’m saving them for you,’ she said, but regretted it immediately. She didn’t want to sound eager.

There was silence on the other end; she sensed a certain hesitation.

‘How is Bianca doing?’ she asked to smooth things over.

‘Are you drunk?’

‘No. Are you? Or are you just calling to check up on me?’

‘One might say that, perhaps. We received two complaints about you today.’

‘What?’

‘Someone in Stentuna and one in Östra Villastaden in Nyköping. You’ve apparently been sneaking around in their gardens and snooping. If it continues, they’re going to file a police report.’