Shame

in front of the heater. He had only a small hallway and one room with a dark-brown bookcase, an unmade bed and a desk with a chair. The sound of a TV in his parents’ part of the house revealed that you could hear every sound in the house.
    ‘I wasn’t sure if you would come.’
    He went over to the unmade bed and tossed the spread over it.
    ‘Would you like some tea?’
    ‘Yes, please.’
    He picked up a saucepan from the cooker, which stood on the low bookshelf.
    ‘Sit down if you like.’
    He disappeared into the hall, going to what she assumed was a bathroom, as she heard water running and the clink of china. She looked around to find somewhere to sit. It was either the chair with the wet jacket on it by the heater, or the unmade bed. She stood where she was. But after he had made tea and she held one of the mismatched cups in her hands and he asked whether she wouldn’t like to sit next to him, she complied. They drank their tea and he did most of the talking. He told her about his future plans. He wanted to move away and maybe apply to the music college in Stockholm or Gothenburg. He was tired of this provincial town. Hadn’t she, who sang so well, ever thought about doing something with her voice? She let herself be swept along by his dreams, amazed at all the possibilities he suddenly conjured up. Even though she was eighteen and an adult, the thought had never entered her mind that there were alternatives to those the Congregation regarded as acceptable. She had never realised that being an adult meant that she was a grown-up with the right to make her own decisions about her life. There was only one thing she knew for sure at that moment: she didn’t want to be anywhere else than where she was right now. In Göran’s room with an empty teacup in her hand. Everything else was unimportant.

    And after that evening everything was as it should be. Months went by and outwardly everything looked the same. But inside a change was stirring. A reckless curiosity was emerging which began to question all limitations.
    No God in the world could have anything against what she finally was able to experience. Not even her parents’ God.
    But for safety’s sake it was best that her parents didn’t find out a thing.

17
    S even days after the accident Åse called. The only time Monika had left her flat was when she drove her mother to the cemetery and then stopped by the book-shop to buy more books. She was almost up to the nineteenth century, and no detail of Swedish history had been too insignificant to memorise. Learning facts had never been a problem for Monika.
    ‘I’m sorry I haven’t called before now, but I haven’t really felt like doing anything. I just wanted to thank you for coming, Monika. I didn’t dare call Börje at home because he’s already had a minor heart attack and I didn’t know whether he could handle a phone call like that.’
    Åse’s voice sounded tired and flat. It was hard to believe it was the same person.
    ‘I was happy to do it.’
    There was a pause. Monika kept reading about the crop failures of 1771.
    ‘I drove out there yesterday.’
    ‘To the scene of the accident?’
    She turned a page.
    ‘No, to see her. Pernilla.’
    Monika stopped reading and sat up on the sofa.
    ‘You drove out there?’
    ‘I just had to, I never could have lived with myself otherwise. I had to look her in the eye and tell her how sorry I am.’
    Monika put down her book.
    ‘So how was she?’
    There was a long sigh.
    ‘It’s all so ghastly.’
    Monika wanted to know more. Get every detail out of Åse that might be useful.
    ‘But how was she?’
    ‘Well, what can I say? Sad. But composed, more or less. I think she’s been taking sedatives to get through the first few days. But that little girl …’
    Her voice broke.
    ‘She was crawling around on the floor and laughing and it was so … it’s so awful what I’ve done.’
    ‘It wasn’t your fault, Åse. When an elk appears like that you don’t have a chance.’
    ‘But I shouldn’t have been driving so fast. I knew that there weren’t any wildlife fences on that part of the road.’
    Monika hesitated. None of it was Åse’s fault. It had all been fate. Except that the wrong person was sitting in the passenger seat.
    There was a silence and Åse collected herself. She sniffled a few times but stopped crying.
    ‘Mattias’s parents were there for a couple of days, but they live in Spain so now they’ve gone back.