Shame

most difficult; after she had chosen a goal the rest was merely a matter of taking action. And she was good at that. Her task had pushed out the hopelessness inside her, and now she was filled with resolve. Everything had taken on meaning again.
    She didn’t hesitate when she went in the main door this time, just checked the doorknob’s shape with her hand and knew that it would soon feel like an old acquaintance. She continued past their door and halfway up to the fourth floor, pausing only briefly, with her ear against the door panel when she went by. Everything was quiet inside. She sat down on the stairs, folding her coat in half under her for protection from the cold stone. An hour passed. Every time she heard someone coming she stood up and pretended she was on her way up or down, whichever seemed the most natural. One time the same man came back who had left an hour earlier and they agreed with a smile that they had to stop seeing each other like this. Monika had just folded up her coat to sit down again when the door finally opened.
    She was completely out of sight and saw only the feet of the person who came out. Women’s shoes. The door was closed without anything being said, and the stranger’s feet headed for the stairs. Monika followed. The woman was in late middle age with her hair up and wearing a beige coat. When she reached the main door Monika had caught up, and she smiled when the woman held the door open for her. She thanked her and walked to her car.

    She had already saved the number on her mobile; copied from the Council’s home page.
    ‘I’m calling about Pernilla Andersson, whom you’ve been helping the past few days.’
    ‘Ah, yes, of course … yes, that’s right.’
    ‘She asked me to ring and thank you so much for the assistance and tell you that you don’t have to come anymore. She has friends who are taking over now.’
    The man in the crisis group was glad that they had been of use and asked her to tell Pernilla not to hesitate to call again if she needed any further support or help. Monika didn’t think it would be necessary, but thanked him politely for the offer.
    It was important that it be done correctly.
    Really important.

    She sat in her car for half an hour before she returned to their door. She stood there for a minute, breathing quietly, then scrupulously assumed her professional role, although leaving her top button undone. She was there as a friend, not as a doctor. It was as both Monika and Doctor Lundvall that she had to fulfil this task, but she needed her professional demeanour. Because what she was now about to do required more than her private persona.
    She knocked lightly on the door, not wanting to wake anyone who might be sleeping. When nothing happened and a long time had passed, she knocked a bit harder, and then she heard footsteps approaching.
    Just listen. Don’t try to comfort her, just listen and be there .
    She had attended several courses about how to deal with people suffering from grief.
    The door opened. Monika smiled.
    ‘Pernilla?’
    ‘Yes.’
    She didn’t look the way Monika had imagined. She was short and slim with short dark hair. She was dressed in grey jogging trousers and a knit jersey that was much too big.
    ‘My name is Monika, and I’m from the crisis group.’
    ‘Ah, I didn’t think anyone was coming today. They said they were short-staffed.’
    Monika smiled even more broadly.
    ‘We worked it out.’
    Pernilla left the door open and went into the flat. Monika took the first step over the threshold. She could feel it at once. Feel the relief. It was as if something was suddenly released, and for a second she was worried that it would make her weak again. Just to see Pernilla with her own eyes, form her own picture of her face and be allowed into her presence made everything easier to bear. She could accomplish something here. Make everything less unforgivable. But she had to proceed cautiously, couldn’t be in too much of a hurry; Pernilla had to be given the chance to understand that she could be trusted. That Monika was here to help her, and solve all her problems.
    She hung up her coat and left her boots by the door. There were several pairs of men’s shoes there. Gym shoes and Oxfords that were much too large to fit Pernilla’s tiny feet. Left behind, never again to be needed. She passed a bathroom door with a little red ceramic heart on it and continued into the flat. The kitchen was to the right, and at the