Minoo asks if they should take Nicolaus with them. The thought of having him there during a break-in makes Vanessa smile. Wille misinterprets it, of course, and thinks she finds him funny despite herself.
‘Come on, tell me who it is!’ he pleads. ‘Tell me, tell me, tell me!’ His big toe prods her thigh so hard that the computer bounces in her lap. She logs out of the chat and slams it shut with a bang.
She tries to glare at Wille, but he’s looking so good right now that she loses her train of thought. His hair is all over the place and his smile exuberant. He’s wearing the grey track suit bottoms she likes, even thought they’re ugly and baggy.
‘Vanessa?’ Wille’s mother, Sirpa, calls from the kitchen. ‘Would you like to stay for dinner?’
‘Yes, please!’
Sometimes Vanessa wishes Sirpa were her mother. Sirpa is always kind and considerate and she makes the best food Vanessa’s ever tasted. She doesn’t nag or criticise.
‘What’s for dinner, Mum?’ Wille shouts.
‘Spaghetti Bolognese.’
Wille looks at Vanessa and whistles.
I love him, Vanessa thinks. None of that other stuff matters. We’re going to be all right.
Because there is ‘other stuff’, a down-side to Wille’s childish charm. He still lives with his mother. He has no job. Of course, there are hardly any jobs to be had in the town, but that’s not the point: the point is that he seems happy with things as they are. He makes a bit of money dealing for Jonte in Engelsfors and the even smaller backwaters hidden in the surrounding forest. He squanders it on clothes, computer games, and presents for Sirpa. Wille likes to buy nice things for his mother. And Sirpa is always happy and teary-eyed when he gives her an expensive perfume or a new radio for the kitchen. The notion that he ought to be contributing to the rent or buying food instead doesn’t occur to either of them.
But when Vanessa sees Wille in moments like this, she feels there’s hope for him. She just has to get him to realise he’s too good to be hanging out with the likes of Jonte and his gang of losers. Too good to get stuck in Engelsfors for ever.
Minoo logs out and puts the computer to sleep.
She had been expecting Ida to cause trouble but she still feels frustrated.
Minoo’s mother had taught her that all people have their ‘explanation’: a combination of chemistry, inheritance, childhood experiences and learned behaviour. Even when Kevin Månsson was terrorising everyone at nursery, her mother was explaining that there was probably a reason for it.
Minoo wonders if Ida can be explained. Did her parents bully her in the way she bullies other people? Or does she think she’s being funny when she’s mean? Does she know how much she hurts people? She must – right?
It dawns on her that she’s never really talked to Ida properly. Only when the whole group’s been together, and it’s obvious that nobody likes her. Maybe it’s not so strange that she had become instantly defensive. Perhaps they hadn’t given her a chance to be anything but a bitch.
Minoo picks up her mobile and calls Ida. The phone rings at the other end. Minoo’s relieved: Ida isn’t going to answer. But then a ring is cut short and there’s rustling in the receiver.
‘Hello?’
Minoo considers hanging up.
‘Hello?’ Ida repeats impatiently.
‘Hi, it’s me … Minoo.’
‘Yeah, so?’
‘Am I disturbing you?’
Ida groans. ‘No. I’m thrilled to hear from you.’
Minoo regrets having called her on the spur of the moment. She should have prepared herself, laid out a strategy.
‘Are you just going to huff into the phone or what?’ Ida sighs.
‘Can’t we stop this?’ Minoo says.
‘What?’
‘I know we can never be friends –the five of us, I mean – but do we have to argue all the time?’
‘If someone argues with me, I argue back.’
Talking to Ida feels like banging your head against a wall. A particularly hard one.
‘But it isn’t getting us anywhere,’ Minoo responds.
‘Why don’t you say so to Fatso, the slut and the junkie?’
It’s as if a bolt of lightning just struck her head. ‘Can’t you stop being so fucking immature?’ Minoo shouts.
Ida giggles and Minoo knows she’s lost.
‘I’m speaking the truth,’ Ida says calmly. ‘If people can’t take it, it’s not my problem.’
‘You know what?’ Minoo says. ‘I hope you’re next. The world would be a much better place if you were dead.’
She hangs up and comes close to smashing her phone against the wall. Instead she throws it on