couldn’t help thinking how different they were from the guys back home. Polished. Well-spoken. Axel got a drink, then disappeared. Viktor and I drank another toast. My beer was almost finished.
‘We’re warming up beforehand with a few friends tomorrow, if you fancy coming along?’
‘Maybe,’ I said, looking at him thoughtfully. ‘Why did you want me to come in with you?’
I drank the last of my beer demonstratively, hoping he’d order more. He did. One for me, one for him. Then he answered my question. His blue eyes glinted in the dim light.
‘Because you’re pretty. And you looked lonely. Are you regretting it?’
‘No, not at all.’
He fished a packet of Marlboros from his back pocket and offered me one. I had nothing against taking it, mine would last longer that way. There wasn’t much left from the fifteen thousand I’d got from the sale of the house once the mortgage and everything else had been paid off.
Our hands touched as he lit my cigarette. His hand was warm and tanned. I missed his touch the moment it was gone.
‘You’ve got sad eyes. Did you know that?’ he said, sucking hard on his cigarette.
‘What do you mean?’
‘There seems to be some sort of sadness in you. I find that attractive. I’m suspicious of people who go round thinking life’s a barrel of laughs the whole time. Life is fun. But not all the time. People who are always happy bore me. We’re not supposed to be happy all the time, because then the world would stop.’
One of the bouncers was staring pointedly at Viktor, and he shrugged and stubbed his cigarette out after a few quick puffs. I did the same. But I didn’t answer. I had a feeling he was making fun of me.
Suddenly my head started to spin from all the drink. I decided to get a souvenir, leaned forward, put my hand on the back of his head and pulled his face towards mine. A gesture that must have made me seem far more confident than I was. Our lips met. He tasted of beer and Marlboro, and he was a good kisser. Gentle but intense.
‘Shall we go back to mine?’ he asked.
Jack was sitting at the kitchen table in his dark-blue dressing-gown reading Dagens Industri. He didn’t even look up when Faye came into the kitchen, but she was used to that when he was feeling stressed. And considering all the responsibilities of his work and all the hours he spent in the office, he deserved to be left in peace in the morning at the weekend.
The four-hundred square-metre apartment, the result of knocking four smaller flats into one, felt claustrophobic when Jack needed to be left alone. Faye still didn’t know how to behave on days like that.
In the car on the way home from Lidingö, where Julienne had gone to play with a friend from preschool, she had been looking forward to spending the morning with Jack. Just the two of them. Curl up in bed, watch a television programme that they would both declare stupid and vulgar. Jack would tell her about his week. They’d go for a walk on Djurgården, hand in hand.
Talk, the way they used to.
She cleared away the remains of her and Julienne’s breakfast. The cornflakes had gone soggy in the soured milk. She hated the texture of wet cereal and the sour smell, and swallowed the instinct to gag as she wiped them off with a cloth.
There were breadcrumbs on the island unit, and a half-eaten sandwich was balancing on the edge, defying the laws of gravity. The only thing holding it up was the fact that it was lying face-down.
‘Can’t you at least try to clear up before you go out?’ Jack said without looking up from his newspaper. ‘Surely we shouldn’t need help with the housework at weekends as well?’
‘Sorry.’ Faye swallowed the lump in her throat as she wiped the counter with a cloth. ‘Julienne wanted to get going. She was making such a fuss.’
Jack murmured and went on reading. He was freshly showered after his run. He smelled good, Armani Code, the cologne he had used since before they met. Julienne had been disappointed not to see her dad, but he had gone out running before she woke up, and didn’t come back until Faye had left with her. It had been a difficult morning. None of the four breakfast options Faye had given Julienne had been acceptable, and getting her dressed had been a painful, sweaty marathon.
But at least the kitchen worktop was clean now. The aftermath of the war had been cleared away.
Faye put the dishcloth in the drainer and looked at Jack, sitting there at the kitchen table. Even though he was tall, fit, responsible, prosperous – all the classic attributes of a successful man – he remained a boy in many ways. She was the only person who saw him for what he was.
Faye would always love him, no matter what.
‘It’ll soon be time for a haircut, darling.’
She reached out one hand and managed to touch a few locks of his damp hair before he jerked his head away.
‘I haven’t got time. This expansion is complicated, I need to stay focused. I can’t keep running to have my hair cut every five minutes like you.’
Faye sat down on the chair next to him. Put her hands on her lap. Tried to remember when she had last had her hair cut.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘About what?’
‘Compare.’
Very slowly, he looked up at Faye from the newspaper. He shook his head and sighed. She regretted saying anything. Regretted she hadn’t carried on wiping crumbs from the worktop. Nonetheless, she took a deep breath.
‘Before, you used to like—’
Jack flinched and lowered the newspaper. His fringe, a few millimetres too long, fell across his face and he jerked his head irritably. Why couldn’t she let him be? Just carry on with the cleaning. Be thin and beautiful and supportive. He had been at work all week. If she knew him right, he’d soon shut himself away in the tower room and carry on working. For her and Julienne’s sake. So that they could have a good life. Because that was their goal. Not his. Theirs.
‘What good would talking about it do? You don’t know anything about business any more, do you? It’s a perishable product. You can’t rely on what you used to know.’
Faye fingered her wedding ring. Twisted it round, round.
If she hadn’t said anything, they could have had the morning she had been dreaming of. But she had thrown all that away with one stupid question. When she already knew better.
‘Do you even know the name of the current Swedish Business Minister?’ he said.
‘Mikael Damberg,’ she replied without thinking. Immediately and correctly.
She regretted it when she saw the look on Jack’s face. Why couldn’t she just keep quiet?
‘OK. A new law is about to come into force. Do you know what it is?’
She knew. But she shook
