Shame

an emergency measure until she managed to solve the problem in some other way. She had the account number in her wallet, and the bank was open. It was for Pernilla’s sake too, of course, she mustn’t forget that, so that she wouldn’t feel betrayed and deserted and utterly alone. Pernilla needed her. Until she had found an equally good replacement for Mattias, Monika was the only one Pernilla had. And Monika had vowed, on her honour and in good conscience, that she would strive to serve her fellow man with humanity and respect for life as a guiding principle, and now she had a life to save. It was her duty to do everything she could.

    The only thing was that in this case she couldn’t remember whose life it was that she actually had to save.

34
    M aj-Britt sat on a chair just inside the front door. It stood a bit ajar and through the crack she had watched some of her neighbours pass by in the morning hours, hurrying down the stairs and out into the world she had left behind so many years ago. She inhaled the air that streamed in from out there and did her best to try to get used to it.

    Ellinor had gone out and bought her a pair of outdoor shoes that were already on her feet, but Ellinor couldn’t find a jacket to fit her. It would have to be specially ordered, they said, and Maj-Britt couldn’t wait that long. What she had to do had to be done as soon as possible, before her courage failed her again.
    Ellinor had kept on trying to persuade her but had finally been forced to give up. She recognised the futility of trying to convince someone who had put all her desires behind her, to undergo a series of complicated operations simply to hold onto a life that had actually ended long ago.
    Maj-Britt hadn’t said a word about her plans. Ellinor was totally in the dark about the negotiations that had taken place with God. Or the fact that Maj-Britt was in the process of making up for her sins so that she could be forgiven. And then dare to die.
    Monika hadn’t wanted to understand. Maj-Britt was unsure of how she had reacted. But it didn’t make much difference. Whatever Monika decided to do, it would mean that Maj-Britt had performed a good deed. Either she would save Monika from hell by making her stop lying, or, if Monika chose to pay the money instead, it would be thanks to Maj-Britt that Save the Children would be able to help a great number of children to live a more tolerable life.
    A little restitution.
    Of course it wouldn’t be enough, but God had indicated that it would mitigate somewhat the devastating judgement that awaited her.
    But she was not forgiven.
    She had one more thing to do. Because it wasn’t only Monika who had lied.
    That’s why she was sitting by her front door and peeking out through the crack, trying to convince herself. So that she could approach with tiny ant steps the enormous thing she was about to do.
    Those letters she had written.
    In order for her to dare to leave this life, all the lies had to be taken back, and she needed to see Vanja with her own eyes to make sure, to be certain that she received her forgiveness. And then she would know. The question kept swirling round inside her: how had Vanja known about the tumour that was growing in her body when she didn’t even know about it herself?
    She had considered writing a letter in any case, despite the fact that Vanja had said that she did not intend to tell her anything either by letter or telephone. And if she was only half as stubborn as she had been as a girl, it would be fruitless even to try.
    Maj-Britt had to conquer herself. Then Monika Lundvall’s confession to the widow or a receipt for the money to Save the Children would be the only thing missing. When she had received proof she wouldn’t drag out her dying for as long as six months. She would see to it that things went far more quickly.

    It was Ellinor who had arranged everything. For the first time Maj-Britt had picked up her telephone and used the mobile number that Ellinor had left on her nightstand. And Ellinor had been enthusiastic. She borrowed a car large enough and rang to find out about visiting routines. She told Maj-Britt that the woman she had talked to sounded almost glad about her enquiry, replying that yes, of course, Vanja Tyrén was allowed to have visitors, even unguarded, and that she would book one of the visiting rooms.
    In the meantime Maj-Britt had been fully occupied trying to prepare herself. For two days she had tried to