The Cruel Stars of the Night - Kjell Eriksson [137]
She parked on the street, didn’t cast a glance at the professor’s house but walked straight onto her property. There, she ended up standing like a zombie in front of the door before it occurred to her to get out her keys and open it.
Somewhere she understood that Stig had rejected her but the memory of what had transpired in his house was diffuse. What had happened? What she recalled most clearly and with the greatest degree of pain was that he had pinned her arms and legs and held her to the floor. The pressure on her chest had been unbearable. It was as if something broke inside.
She walked into the kitchen and sank onto a chair. Slowly fragments of the events returned. She remembered that Jessica had been holding the pipe wrench in her hand. It was confusing, as if their roles had been reversed. The tool belonged to Laura. She looked around the kitchen as if she would be able to find the tool there. Her gaze fell onto the letters on the table. She hadn’t read them yet. She reached out for the bundle and loosened the string, picked up a letter and started to read.
You can’t imagine what beautiful landscapes we have seen. I would love to settle down in Tuscany if only Ulrik could do it. Laura was quite whiny, sometimes obnoxiously so, on the trip. She complained of the heat and I can partly understand her, it was so terribly warm, but it is as if one’s life spirit is awakened by the heat. I can tell from the people here that they are really alive. You should know how romantic the Italians are! I am constantly complimented, while Ulrik walks around like a prehistoric monument.
Laura sat there with the letter in her hand. Certainly she remembered the heat and the crowds in Florence, how they had forced their way through the throngs to the palaces and the churches. She had thought she was going to suffocate.
She took out the next letter. It was from October of the same year. Mårten had offered to come into town and help out with the garden but Alice had declined.
I don’t think Ulrik would appreciate it. You know how touchy he is. He doesn’t want to have a debt of gratitude to anyone, especially no one from our side of the family. Sometimes I dream that I am still in Skyttorp. What would my life have looked like then? How are Jan and Martin? And Lars-Erik. You have to write and tell me. I want news. I love to get letters. The few times Ulrik sees your letters he stares at them but he doesn’t dare say anything.
Laura put the letter down and looked out the window. The branches of the apple tree were bare. She mechanically took out a new letter.
What a spring! The lilacs are so early. They will have finished flowering when the schools let out. The girl is being difficult. A couple of weeks ago they called from school and complained about her behavior. I reprimanded her severely but it didn’t help because they called again today. She harrasses her schoolmates, calls them names, and teases. At home she is all smiles, pretends to listen and understand, but it is all an act. I don’t know what to do. Ulrik is no great help. He is the same way. The situation at his work is worse than ever. He makes trouble over everything, with everyone. Sometimes I think he is crazy.
dLaura forced herself to unfold the next letter.
If Laura were not so little I would immediately leave Ulrik. The problem is that he is unable to control the girl, who is becoming more unruly by the day. I have met a man again. Yes, I know what you are going to say, but you would like him. His name is Petrus and he is a farmer, or has been, and you can tell from his straightforward manner. Ulrik hired him once to help out in the garden. He referred to Petrus as “our man.” If he only knew! This time it is not only the lust of the flesh but I am in love for real, but again Laura