someone might hear you or walk in at any moment.
‘Are you comfortable like that?’ he mumbles.
‘M-hm,’ Rebecka answers. She wriggles a little closer to him. She loves feeling his skin against hers, wants to press every square centimetre of her body against his. Gustaf puts his other arm around her and kisses her forehead.
The wind is picking up. The terraced house where Gustaf lives is on the last street before the forest takes over on this side of the town. There’s a mass grave from a cholera epidemic out there. They walked past it last summer: a few large blocks of stone mark its location. They felt cold even when the sun was on them and each stone was linked together by a thick black chain.
The memory of the grave brings with it other unwelcome thoughts. In her mind’s eye, Rebecka sees the figure reflected in the window, and feels again how her muscles tensed, as if she were preparing to defend herself. She tries to relax again, to hold on to the bliss of just a moment ago.
‘What is it?’ Gustaf asks.
‘What do you mean?’
Gustaf leans away from her slightly so he can look at her. ‘It’s like you’re … I don’t know how to put it … like you’re always somewhere else, these days.’
Rebecka opens her mouth to protest, but Gustaf asks, ‘Has something happened?’
She wriggles closer and presses her forehead to his chest. She’d rather not be looking at him when she lies to him. ‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘There’s a lot going on at school,’ she says.
She hears Gustaf’s heart beating inside his ribcage and wonders how it feels to be him, so calm and confident in all situations.
‘You spend a lot of time with Minoo now,’ he remarks.
Rebecka is surprised yet relieved by the change of subject. ‘Yes. I really like her. She’s so clever. And nice. She can be funny, too – sometimes I think she doesn’t realise it.’
‘We should do something, the three of us, some time.’
‘M-hm.’
‘Do you think she’d like any of my friends? Rickard, maybe?’
Rebecka imagines Rickard and Minoo together and has to giggle. Rickard is sweet, but he only ever talks about football. That couldn’t be more wrong for Minoo.
‘Why not?’
‘Minoo’s in love with someone.’ It just slips out of her.
‘Who?’
She’s promised not to tell anyone, and now she’s on the verge of doing so. It would feel so good to share a secret with Gustaf, to compensate for all the others she’s keeping from him.
But, no, she thinks. It’s not my secret to tell, and Minoo would never forgive me. ‘I’m not allowed to say.’
‘Of course you are.’
‘No, I promised.’
‘Oh, come on.’
‘Why are you so curious? Are you hoping she’s in love with you?’
She laughs when Gustaf pretends to scowl at her. Then he throws his leg over her, pins her to the mattress and tickles her. She lets out a shriek and starts to laugh.
‘Tell me.’ He’s laughing too.
All she can do is shake her head –she can barely breathe.
Eventually they calm down. He starts kissing her but now everything he does tickles. His stubble against her neck makes her cry out again, and she pulls up her shoulder to protect her sensitive skin.
And as she’s lying there, she can’t understand how she could ever have doubted that he’ll love her no matter what happens.
16
REBECKA COMES HOME at midnight and stays up for another two hours with her French homework. Then she can’t sleep. Her thoughts are drawn constantly to the figure at the mall. And when she does fall asleep, it follows her into her dreams.
I have to tell Minoo, she thinks, as she gets up the next morning.
Immediately she feels lighter inside. She isn’t alone, after all.
Music is filtering softly from the radio when she comes into the kitchen. Anton and Oskar are still asleep. Alma tries to lift Moa out of the high chair, and Moa lets out a high-pitched shriek that hurts Rebecka’s ears. Her mother is standing by the window with her battered mobile pressed to her ear, mumbling gravely.
Rebecka takes the carton of buttermilk out of the fridge and glances at her.
‘No, I can’t do that,’ she says. ‘You’ll have to tell her yourself.’ She holds out the phone to Rebecka. ‘It’s your father.’
Rebecka takes the phone, sensing that she’s about to hear bad news. ‘Hi, Beckis.’ Her father sounds tense. ‘I’ve got bad news. I have to be at a conference over the weekend so I’ll miss your birthday.’
She shouldn’t care about something