Shame

entitled to write.
    As you guessed, I was surprised by your letter, to say the least. It took a while before I remembered who you were. As you said, some years have passed since we last saw each other. Both my family and I are doing fine. Göran is working as a department head in a big company that makes appliances and I work in the banking industry. We have two children who are both studying abroad now. I am quite content with my life and have only happy memories of my childhood. Mother and Father passed away many years ago, and I miss them terribly. That’s why we no longer drive up there very often, but prefer to take our holidays abroad. So I haven’t talked to anyone and know nothing about you or your fate. But I understand from your address that you wound up in trouble .
    Tonight Göran and I are going to the theatre, so I will have to close now.
    Best wishes, Maj-Britt Pettersson
    She read over what she had written. Exhausted from the effort, she decided that it would have to do. Now she just wanted to get it out of the flat and mailed so that she could put the whole thing behind her.
    It had irked her to write his name.

    The home help arrived at one o’clock today; a new one, someone she had never seen before. Another one of those young girls, but at least she was Swedish. The kind who went about dressed in suggestive sweaters with the bra straps showing. And then they were surprised that rape was on the increase. When young girls dressed like whores, what were the boys supposed to think?
    ‘Hi, my name is Ellinor.’
    Maj-Britt looked with distaste at her outstretched hand. Never in her life would she dream of shaking it.
    ‘I don’t suppose you’ve been informed of the routine in this household?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I hope at least you took along the correct shopping list when you went to the store.’
    ‘Yes, I think so.’
    The intruder kept smiling, and this irritated Maj-Britt even more. She took off a worn denim jacket decorated with small colourful plastic buttons with slogans printed on them; they gave the garment an even more slovenly appearance, if that were possible.
    ‘Shall I put the stuff in the fridge or do you want to do it yourself?’
    Maj-Britt scrutinised her from head to toe.
    ‘Just put the bags on the kitchen table.’
    She always put away the food herself, but she could no longer lift the heavy bags. She liked to know where all the food was stored. In case she was in a hurry.
    When she was left alone in the hall she took a look at the small plastic buttons. With her thumb and forefinger she gingerly pulled out the jacket and snorted as she examined them. DON’T KEEP SILENT! STOP THE TORTURE. FEMINIST – DAMN RIGHT! IF I AM ONLY FOR MYSELF – WHAT AM I ? A candle wrapped in barbed wire with the legend rights for all. A multitude of small self-righteous messages about this and that, as if she had taken on the responsibility of changing the world all by herself. Oh well, it would pass when she got a little older and understood the way things worked.
    She heard the little person go into the bathroom and fill a bucket with water.

    It took about half an hour for her to finish. Maj-Britt stood by the balcony door and waited for Saba to come in. Outside in the playground stood a father pushing his child on a swing. The child, who couldn’t be much more than a year old, whooped with laughter each time the swing changed direction and fell back towards the father’s outstretched arms. She had often seen them there. Sometimes the mother came along too, but she seemed to suffer from some kind of pain, because sometimes the man had to help her up after she had been sitting on the park bench. Saba stayed near the balcony and never paid any attention to the people she met outside. And Maj-Britt would send the home helps out to pick up the dog shit; she didn’t want any complaints from the neighbours about letting Saba out alone.
    She opened the balcony door to let Saba in. At the same moment a window opened on the second floor across from her, and the mother of the kid in the swing stuck her head out.
    ‘Mattias, there’s someone on the phone asking if you want a ride to the course you’re taking. Something about car-pooling.’
    That was all Maj-Britt heard, because now Saba was back inside and there was no reason to keep the door open. She pulled it shut. When she turned round, Ellinor was standing in the room.
    ‘I can take her out for a while if you like. I did