GÖTEBORG 1958

Something was wrong. She had let it go on for far too long. A year and a half had passed since Äke died, and Per-Erik had met her demands for action with excuses that kept getting vaguer and vaguer. Recently he had scarcely bothered to answer her at all, and the phone calls summoning her to the Hotel Eggers were now few and far between. She had begun to hate that place. The soft hotel sheets against her skin and the impersonal furniture now filled her with a nauseating revulsion. She wanted something else. She deserved something better. She deserved to move into his big villa, to be allowed to be the hostess at his parties, to be given respect, status, and mention in the society columns. Who did he think she was, anyway?

Agnes trembled with rage as she sat behind the steering wheel. Through the windscreen she saw Per-Erik's big white-brick villa, and behind the curtains she glimpsed a shadow moving through the rooms. His Volvo wasn't parked on the drive. It was Tuesday morning, so he was no doubt at work, and Elisabeth was at home alone, probably devoting herself to being the excellent little housewife she was. Hemming tablecloths or polishing the silver or doing some other boring task that Agnes would never stoop to do. Surely Elisabeth had no idea that her life was about to be smashed to bits.

Agnes felt not the slightest hesitation. The thought didn't even occur to her that Per-Erik's ever more evasive manner might be due to a fading enthusiasm for her. No, it must be Elisabeth's fault that he still hadn't come to her as a free man. She pretended to be so helpless, so pitiful and dependent, just to bind him to her. But Agnes saw through that act, even though Per-Erik did not. And if he wasn't man enough to confront his wife, Agnes had no such scruples. She got out of the car with determined steps, wrapped her fur coat tighter in the November chill and walked quickly up the path to the front door.

Elisabeth opened it after only two rings and broke into a smile that made Agnes writhe with contempt. She longed to wipe that smile off her face.

'Well, if it isn't Agnes! How lovely of you to come and visit.'

Agnes saw that Elisabeth meant what she said, while at the same time she had a slightly puzzled look. Of course Agnes had been a guest in their home before, but only at dinner parties and celebrations. She had never before dropped by unannounced.

'Come in,' said Elisabeth. 'You'll have to excuse the mess. If I'd known you were coming, I would have picked up.'

Agnes stepped into the hall and looked round for the mess that Elisabeth mentioned. All she could see was that everything was in its proper place, which confirmed her image of Elisabeth as the ultimate, pathetic homemaker.

'Have a seat and I'll fetch some coffee,' said Elisabeth politely, and before Agnes could stop her she was on her way to the kitchen.

Agnes hadn't intended to have a coffee klatsch with Per-Erik's wife. She had planned to get what she'd come for and leave as quickly as possible, but she reluctantly hung up her fur coat and sat down on the sofa in the living room. No sooner had she sat down than Elisabeth appeared with a tray holding cups and thick slices of sponge cake. She set the tray on the dark, highly polished coffee table. The coffee must have been already brewed, because she hadn't been gone more than a couple of minutes.

Elisabeth sat down in the easy chair next to the sofa.

'Please have some sponge cake. I baked it today.'

Agnes looked with distaste at the cake saturated with butter and sugar and said, 'I'll just have coffee, thank you.' She reached for one of the two porcelain cups on the tray She sipped the coffee, which was strong and good.

'Yes, I can see that you still watch your figure,' Elisabeth said with a laugh, taking a slice of sponge cake. 'I lost that battle after I had kids,' she said, nodding towards a photo of their three children, who were now all grown-up. Agnes pondered for a moment how they would take the news of their parents' divorce and their new stepmother, but felt assured that with a little effort she'd be able to win them over to her side. In time they would probably see how much more she had to offer Per-Erik than Elisabeth did.

She watched the cake vanish into Elisabeth's mouth, and her hostess reached for another slice. The unbridled craving for sweets reminded Agnes of her daughter, and she had to stop herself from leaning over and tearing the sponge cake out of Elisabeth's hand, the same way she used to do with the girl. Instead she smiled courteously and said, 'I realize that you must think it's a bit odd for me to show up like this unannounced, but unfortunately I have something unpleasant to tell you.'

'Something unpleasant? What on earth could that be?' said Elisabeth in a tone that should have alerted Agnes if she hadn't been so intent on what she was about to do.

'Well, it's like this, you see,' said Agnes, carefully setting down her coffee cup. 'Per-Erik and I have come to… well, we've developed a great fondness for each other. And we've felt this way for quite a long while.'

'And now you want to build a life together,' Elisabeth filled in. Agnes was relieved that the whole thing was going more smoothly than she thought. Then she looked at Elisabeth and realized that something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. Per-Erik's wife was regarding her with a sardonic smile, and her gaze had a coldness to it that Agnes had never seen in her before.

'I understand that this may come as a shock…' Agnes began, now unsure whether her carefully prepared speech would still hold.

'My dear Agnes, I've known about your little relationship since it started. We have an understanding, Per-Erik and I, and it works admirably for both of us. Surely you didn't think you were the first, did you? Or the last?' said Elisabeth in a nasty tone of voice that made Agnes want to raise her hand and give her a slap.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Agnes in desperation, feeling the floor giving way beneath her feet.

'Don't tell me you hadn't noticed that Per-Erik was beginning to lose interest. He doesn't ring you as often, you have a hard time getting hold of him, he seems distracted when you meet. Oh yes, I know my husband well enough after forty years of marriage to know how he would act in such a situation. And I also know that the new object of his desire is a thirty-year-old brunette who works as a secretary at his firm.'

'You're lying,' said Agnes, seeing Elisabeth's plump features as if in a fog.

'You can believe what you like. Just ask Per-Erik yourself. Now I think you should go.'

Elisabeth got up, went out to the hall, and demonstratively held up Agnes's shimmering grey fur coat. Still incapable of taking in what Elisabeth had said, Agnes mutely followed her hostess. In shock she then stood on the front steps and let the wind shove her gently from side to side, feeling the familiar rage rising up inside her. It was even stronger because she felt that she should have known better. She shouldn't have thought that she could trust a man. Now she was being punished by being betrayed once again.

As if wading through water, she headed for the car she had parked a bit down the street and then sat motionless in the driver's seat for a long time. Her thoughts scurried back and forth in her head like ants, digging deep tunnels of hatred and a desire for revenge. All the events of the past that she had long ago stuffed in the far reaches of her memory now came seeping out. Her knuckles holding the wheel turned white. She leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. Images of the horrible years in the stonecutter's house came to her, and she could smell the muck and sweat from the men who came home after a day's work. She remembered the pains that made her slip in and out of consciousness when the boys were born. The smell of smoke when the houses in Fjällbacka burned, the breeze on the ship to New York, the hum of the crowds and the sound of popping champagne corks, the moans of pleasure from the nameless men who had lain with her, Mary's weeping when she was abandoned on the dock, the sound of Äke's breathing as it slowly flagged and then stopped, Per-Erik's voice when he made her one promise after another. The promises he never intended to keep. All that and more flickered past behind her closed eyelids, and nothing she saw quelled her fury, which was rising to a crescendo. She had done everything to gain the life she deserved, recreate the luxury to which she was born. But life, or fate, had kept tripping her up. Everyone had been against her and done his best to take from her what was rightfully hers: first her father, then Anders, the American suitors, Äke and now Per-Erik. A long series of men whose common denominator was that in various ways they had all exploited and betrayed her. As twilight fell, all these actual and imagined offences coalesced into a single burning point in Agnes's brain. With an empty gaze she stared at Per-Erik's driveway, and slowly a great calm descended over her as she sat in the car. Once before in her life she had felt the same sense of calm, and she knew that it came from the certainty that now there was only one course of action left.