‘We have a chat with the social worker, and they will summarize the case. Sometimes the woman comes to see us before moving in. Often she’ll be accompanied by someone from social services. Otherwise she might arrive by cab or a friend might bring her here.’
‘Then what happens?’ asked Martin.
‘That depends. Sometimes it’s enough that the woman stays with us for a while until the situation calms down, and then the problems get resolved. Sometimes, if we think it’s too dangerous for the woman to remain in the area, we have to move her to another crisis facility. We might also offer legal help in arranging that her whereabouts are kept hidden within the system. Some of these women have spent years living in constant fear. They may exhibit many of the same symptoms as prisoners of war. For instance, they may be completely incapable of taking action. In that case, we step in and help them with the practical matters.’
‘And the psychological issues?’ Patrik stared at the drawing of the big, dark figure with fangs. ‘Are you able to help with those too?’
‘Not as much as we’d like. It’s a question of resources. But we do have a good relationship with several psychologists who donate their services. Our primary concern is to get help for the children.’
‘Recently there’s been a lot in the newspapers about women who have been given help to flee the country and are then charged with kidnapping their children. Are you familiar with any cases like that?’ Patrik studied Leila closely, but she gave no indication that the question made her uncomfortable.
‘As I said, we depend on maintaining a good working relationship with social services. We can’t afford to take that sort of action. We offer the help that’s permissible within the law. Of course there are women who take matters into their own hands and go underground. But that’s not something the Refuge promotes or is willing to help with.’
Patrik decided to drop the subject. She sounded convincing enough, and he sensed that he wasn’t going to get any further by pressuring her.
‘What about the few cases that give you extra trouble – are those the ones where you have to move the women to a different shelter?’ asked Martin.
Leila nodded. ‘It happens.’
‘What sort of problems are we talking about?’ Patrik felt his mobile vibrating in his pocket. Whoever was trying to reach him would just have to wait.
‘We’ve had cases where the men have found out where our shelter is located. For instance, by following our staff members. Each time we’ve learned something from the experience and improved our security measures. But you should never underestimate how obsessed these men can be.’
Patrik’s mobile continued to vibrate, and he placed his hand over his pocket to mute the sound.
‘Did Mats get specifically involved in any of these incidents?’
‘No. We make a point of insisting that none of our staff gets too involved in individual cases. We have a system in place so that the woman has a different contact person after a while.’
‘Wouldn’t that mean an even greater sense of insecurity for the women?’ Patrik’s mobile had started up again, and he was getting annoyed. How hard was it to understand that he couldn’t take the call at the moment?
‘Maybe so, but it’s important, because it allows us to keep our distance. Personal relationships and involvement would only increase the risk for the women. It’s for their own good that we work this way.’
‘How safe is the new address when they’re moved somewhere else?’ Martin changed tack after casting an enquiring glance at Patrik.
Leila sighed. ‘Unfortunately, we simply don’t have the resources in Sweden to provide the security that these women need. As I said, we usually move them to another crisis centre in a different city and keep their personal information as secret as possible. We also provide the women with an emergency signal device, in cooperation with the police.’
‘This device, how does it operate? We’ve not come across this in Tanumshede.’
‘They’re linked to the police emergency switchboard. If someone presses the button, the police are instantly notified. At the same time, the speaker on the telephone is activated, so the police can hear what’s happening in the flat.’
‘What about the legal issues? Custody of the children, and so on? Don’t the women have to appear in court?’ asked Patrik.
‘It can be handled by an ombuds-person. So that’s something we can resolve.’ Leila reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Her hair was cut in a neat page-boy style.
‘We’d like to take a closer look at the more problematic cases that you handled while Mats was working here,’ said Patrik.
‘Okay. But the cases aren’t sorted individually, and not everything is accessible. We send most of the paperwork to social services when the women move out, and we don’t keep documents beyond a year. I’ll get out what we have, and then you can go through everything and see what you can find.’ She held up an admonitory finger. ‘As I said, I don’t want anything to leave this office, so you’ll have to take notes.’ She stood up and went over to the file cabinets.
‘Here you are,’ said Leila, placing about twenty file folders in front of them. ‘I’m going out for lunch now, so you can sit here undisturbed. I’ll be back in an hour, if you have any questions.’
‘Thanks,’ said Patrik. He gave the stack of files a discouraged look. This was going to take time. And they didn’t even know what they were looking for.
Erica didn’t manage to stay very long at the library as both twins decided to take only a short nap, but at least she made a start. When she wrote about true crime cases she had to spend long hours doing meticulous research, which she found just as interesting as the actual writing process. And now she wanted to continue looking into the legends of Ghost Isle.
She had to force herself to put all thought of Gråskär aside, because as soon as she turned the pram on to the driveway in front of their house in Sälvik, the twins began crying loudly. They were hungry. She hurried inside and quickly prepared two bottles of formula, feeling guilty that she was so happy not to be breastfeeding them.
‘Now, now. Slow down a bit, sweetie,’ she said to Noel.
He was always the greedier of the two. Sometimes he’d take such big gulps that he’d end up nearly choking. Anton, on the other hand, was slower, and it took him twice as long to drink a whole bottle. Erica felt like Super-Mamma as she sat there with a bottle in each hand, feeding the two babies simultaneously. Both boys had their gaze fixed on her, and she felt herself going cross-eyed from trying to look at both of them at once. So much love directed at her.
‘All right then. Do you feel better? Do you think your mother could take off her coat now?’ she said with a laugh when she discovered that she was still wearing both her coat and her shoes.
She placed each boy in his carrycot, hung her coat in the front hall, removed her shoes, and carried the babies into the living room. Then she sat down on the sofa and propped her feet up on the coffee table.
‘Mamma will do something useful in a while. But first she needs to spend a little time with Oprah.’
The boys seemed to ignore her.
‘Is it boring when your big sister isn’t home?’
At first Erica had let Maja stay home as much as possible, but after a while she noticed that her daughter was going stir-crazy. She needed to be with other children, and she missed the day-care centre. That was a big change from the awful period when leaving Maja at the centre felt like initiating a minor world war.
‘Why don’t we pick her up early today? What do you boys think about that?’ She interpreted their silence as agreement. ‘Mamma hasn’t even had her coffee yet,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘And you know how Mamma gets when she hasn’t had coffee. “Un poco loco”, as Pappa usually says. Not that we should pay too much attention to everything he says.’