Shame

applause broke out, increased, and would not stop. The sound rose like a wall around Monika. The woman who led the course had sat down on an empty chair while he talked, but when the applause began to die down she stood up and turned to Mattias.
    ‘Thank you for an incredibly gripping and interesting story. I would just like to ask one question if that’s all right?’
    Mattias shrugged amiably and said, ‘Yeah, of course.’
    ‘Now, afterwards, can you sum up what you feel about the whole thing in a few words?’
    He only had to think for a couple of seconds.
    ‘Gratitude.’
    The woman nodded and was about to say something else, but Mattias spoke first.
    ‘Actually, not just because Pernilla recovered, even though that may sound strange.’
    He paused, formulating the right words to use to make it all comprehensible.
    ‘It’s a little hard to explain, but the other reason is actually quite selfish. I realised afterwards how grateful I am that I reacted the way I did and didn’t hesitate to go back down.’
    The woman nodded.
    ‘You saved her life.’
    He almost interrupted her.
    ‘Yes, I know, but it’s not just that. It’s being aware of how you would react in a crisis situation, because you have no idea before you’re in it – that’s something I really understood after the accident. What I mean is that I’m incredibly thankful that I reacted the way I did.’
    He smiled a little, almost embarrassed, and looked down at his lap.
    ‘No doubt all of us dream about being that hero when it really counts.’
    Monika felt the room closing in on her.
    And any second now it would be her turn to speak.

6
    S he couldn’t move. She was sitting on a chair and she was thin, but for some reason she couldn’t move. A nauseating taste in her mouth. Something reminded her of the kitchen at home but she was surrounded by water with no horizon. There was the sound of footsteps coming closer, but she couldn’t tell from where. A single urge, to run, to escape the shame; but there was something wrong with her legs so she couldn’t move.
    She opened her eyes. The dream was gone but not the feeling it left behind. Thin, sticky threads of her consciousness held on to it and tried in vain to put it into context.
    The pillow behind her back had slipped to one side. With great effort she managed to heave herself out of bed and onto her feet. Saba raised her head to look at her but lay down again and went back to sleep.
    Why had she suddenly been dreaming so much? The nights were filled with dangers, and it was hard enough to sleep sitting up without having to worry about what her mind was going to do when she relaxed her grip.
    It must be the fault of that little person. The one who had been coming over lately and had such a hard time keeping her mouth shut. Maj-Britt hadn’t asked to know, but Ellinor had told her anyway. Without being asked she had let the words flow out of her mouth, and every one of them had penetrated into Maj-Britt’s reluctant ears. Vanja was one of the few women in Sweden who had been sentenced to life in prison. Fifteen or sixteen years ago she had suffocated her children in their sleep, slit her husband’s throat, and then set fire to the house where they lived in the hope of killing herself in the blaze. At least that was what she claimed afterwards, having survived with serious burns. Ellinor didn’t know much more than that; the little she knew she had read in a Sunday supplement. A report on the most closely guarded women in Sweden.
    But what she remembered and recounted was more than Maj-Britt ever wanted to know. And as if that weren’t enough, the little person refused to stop plaguing her, trying to weasel out of her how she knew Vanja and whether she knew any more details. Naturally she hadn’t replied, but it was distressing that the girl couldn’t keep her mouth shut and just clean, which was the only reason she was in the flat in the first place. But she just wouldn’t shut up. Such a constant stream that you might almost think her speech organs had to be kept busy for the rest of her body to function. One day she had even brought along a potted plant, a dreadful little purple thing that didn’t flourish – maybe it didn’t like the smell of bleach. Or else it was the subzero temperature on the balcony at night that it didn’t appreciate. Ellinor insisted that she was going to complain at the shop and ask for a new one, but thankfully it didn’t appear in