if he might stretch out his fat little hand at any second, grab hold of her and eat her all up. She realizes that he’s glad Thomas Söderberg is in trouble. Thomas is far too intellectual for his taste. Speaks Greek, and is always pointing out what the original text says. Read theology at university. Gunnar only went to high school. He must have been like the cat that’s got the cream recently, being able to discuss Thomas Söderberg’s “weakness” with his brothers.
Gunnar Isaksson points out that he too has been tempted, but it is in these circumstances that one’s relationship with God is tested. He says that when he was asked by the elders whether he still had faith in Thomas Söderberg, he asked for a day to think about it before he said yes. He wanted his decision to be firmly anchored in God. He hoped Rebecka understood that it was.
“We believe God has great plans for Kiruna,” Alf Hedman, another of the elders, interrupts, “and we believe Thomas has a key role to play in those plans.”
Rebecka understands exactly why they have asked her to come. Thomas cannot remain in the church if she is a member of the congregation, for then he will be constantly reminded of his sin. And everybody wants Thomas to stay. She immediately does what they want.
“He doesn’t need to move,” she says. “I’m going to ask to be released from the church, in any case, because I’m moving to Uppsala to study.”
They congratulate her on her decision. And besides, there is a very good church in Uppsala that she will be able to join.
Now they want to pray for her. Rebecka and Thomas have to sit on two chairs beside each other and the rest stand in a circle around them and place their hands upon them in prayer. Soon the sound of speaking in tongues is pouring out through the windows and up to heaven.
Their hands are like insects crawling all over her body. Everywhere. No, they’re like red-hot stones burning holes right through her clothes and her skin. Her soul pours out through the holes. She feels ill. She wants to be sick. But she can’t. She’s trapped beneath all these men who have laid their hands upon her body. One thing she does do. She refuses to close her eyes. You’re supposed to close your eyes when receiving intercession. Open yourself. Inward and upward. But she keeps her eyes open. Clings to reality by staring at her knees. At an almost invisible mark on her skirt.
“You’ll stay for coffee,” says Gunnar Isaksson when they’ve finished.
And she stays, obediently. The pastors and the elders munch on Karin’s homemade cakes with sensual enjoyment. Except for Thomas, who disappears immediately after the intercession. The others talk about the weather and about the services to come during the Easter season.
No one speaks to Rebecka. It’s as if she isn’t there. She chews on a chocolate marshmallow. It’s dry and turns to dust in her mouth, and she takes great gulps of coffee to try and sluice it down. When she has eaten the cake she puts down her cup, mumbles a good-bye and sneaks out through the front door. Like a thief.
Anna-Maria Mella plodded up to her house. A snowdrift had covered the drive, and the car had got stuck just inside the gate.
She kicked away the snow that had collected in front of the door and yanked it open. Yelled into the house.
“Robert!”
No answer. From Marcus’s room upstairs she could hear music. No point in asking him to go out and clear the snow. That would just mean half an hour’s discussion, in which case she might as well do it herself. But she couldn’t manage it. The snow had wedged itself in the door frame and she had to slam the door to shut it. Robert had probably gone off somewhere with Jenny and Petter. To his mother’s, perhaps.
Marcus had friends round. Presumably some of the hockey team. His sports bag was lying on the hall floor swimming in melted snow from his outdoor shoes, along with two bags she didn’t recognize. She climbed over their indoor hockey sticks and carried the wet sports bags into the bathroom. Took Marcus’s sports gear out of his bag. Dried the hall floor and placed the shoes and sticks in a neat row by the door.
On the way to the laundry room with her arms full of wet sports kit she passed the