The Gilden Cage

by Camilla Lackberg

  “Don’t mention it. You can stay at casa de Chris until you’re back on your feet again. As long as you shower regularly.”

  Faye nodded. That sounded like a deal she could live with.

  —

  Faye felt wretched. Almost hungover. When Chris had gone she lay on the sofa, took out her mobile and called Jack. As she had done every day. Obviously because she wanted to talk to Julienne, but perhaps even more because she wanted to hear his voice. Each time she called he sounded more irritated and their conversations grew shorter and shorter. It was like talking to a stranger.

  “Yes?” he replied curtly.

  “Hi, it’s me.”

  “So I saw. Julienne isn’t here right now. They’ve just left for preschool.”

  “They?”

  Jack cleared his throat. She could hear noises, voices in the background.

  “I didn’t have time to take Julienne today, there’s a lot going on, so Ylva drove her.”

  Faye couldn’t believe it. Only two weeks had passed, and already Ylva and Jack were playing happy families. Faye had been replaced. Exchanged for a newer model. Like any old housekeeper or babysitter.

  Not seeing Julienne had been a torment, but up until now she hadn’t felt up to it. She had persuaded herself that it was in her daughter’s best interests to be in familiar surroundings, and that it would only harm her to see her mom shattered by grief.

  “Hello?” Jack said.

  “I need to come and get some things,” Faye said, forcing her voice to sound normal. “And I want to see Julienne.”

  “Now isn’t a good time.”

  “For what?”

  “For you to come and get your things. Everything’s a bit upside down here. We . . . I’ve bought a house. We’re in the middle of moving.”

  Faye closed her eyes. Focused on her breathing. She mustn’t let herself go to pieces.

  “Where are you moving?”

  “Gåshaga. Close to Henrik and Alice, actually. It wasn’t planned, but we . . . well, we saw a wonderful property online.”

  We. He was talking about them as we. Jack and Ylva. Since 2001 it had been Jack and Faye, but now he was we with someone else entirely. Faye held the phone away from her ear to stop herself hearing. She had nagged him for years about moving to a house, saying it would be good for Julienne, but he hadn’t wanted to. He liked being close to the city and his office. But now evidently he and Ylva had seen a “wonderful property online.” Just like that.

  “. . . text me a list of what you need, and I’ll have it couriered over.”

  “Okay,” she said through clenched teeth. “What about Julienne? I need to see her.”

  “I really think that could wait until you’ve got yourself somewhere to live, but okay. You can come next week, once the move is over,” he declared magnanimously, and ended the call.

  In her mind’s eye Faye could see Ylva making nice with Julienne, spoiling her, dressing her up, indulging her, watching films, plaiting her hair. She was probably an expert at French plaits. Even the inverted type Julienne always asked for but Faye had never managed to get right.

  And every time she closed her eyes she saw Jack and Ylva in front of her. Ylva with her perfect lips and pert breasts. Jack penetrating her, telling her how beautiful she was, groaning her name when he came.

  The biggest irony of all was that Ylva Lehndorf was everything Faye could have been if Jack hadn’t said he wanted a housewife who’d be there for him when he needed it. Why had he changed his mind?

  He was the one who had transformed her into a different person, after all. Someone she no longer recognized. And if she wasn’t Jack Adelheim’s wife, who was she? During her years with Jack she had peeled everything else away, layer by layer. There was nothing left.

  Faye had borrowed Chris’s car. Her hands were shaking so hard that she could barely hold onto the steering wheel. She was going to see Julienne again. At last.

  There was hardly any traffic on the road out to Lidingö. The sun was shining, and thin clouds were chasing across the blue sky. She followed the satnav’s instructions and stopped in front of a hill. At the top lay a large stone building that looked like a palace. A wonderful property. The sort of house she herself had dreamed of.

  Jack’s Tesla was parked in the drive. Some men were lifting moving boxes from a large truck.

  She rang a bell at the gate, looked into a camera and had to wait a few seconds before it opened with a gentle rumble. She drove in and parked behind the truck.

  A bald foreman yelled at her to move her car so it wasn’t in the way. Faye raised her hand apologetically and did as he asked.

  Julienne came running out, and Faye undid her belt and jumped from the car. She clutched her daughter to her, breathing in her smell. Tears were burning behind her eyelids despite the promise she’d made to herself that she wasn’t going to cry. She would grit her teeth and bear it, no matter what.

  Jack came out onto the steps. He was wearing beige chinos and a green sweater with a pale-blue shirt collar sticking out of it. He was more handsome than ever.

  “Darling, I’ve missed you so much,” Faye said, kissing the top of Julienne’s head. “I just have to have a little talk with Daddy. Can you go and play, and I’ll come and find you?”

  Julienne nodded, gave her a kiss on the cheek, then ran back inside the house.

  Jack smiled nonchalantly at Faye. She looked in vain for some sign of guilt, but couldn’t find anything. Part of her wanted to claw at his face. Another part wanted to fall into his arms and bury her face in his sweater.

  “What do you think?” he said, with a broad gesture toward the building behind him.

  It was utterly bizarre. He was behaving as if nothing had happened.

  “We need to talk,” she said curtly.

  Adrenalin was coursing through her body, making her rock back and forth on the soles of her feet.

  “About what?”

  “About what’s happened. About . . . well, this.”

  “You must have seen it coming, though? Dear God, it can hardly have come as a surprise.” He sighed. “Okay, you’d better come in, then.”

  He walked ahead of her into the house. Moving boxes stood stacked in the hall. Two men were carrying a sofa up the stairs.

  “Let’s go and sit over here,” he said, leading her through a sitting room and out onto a glazed veranda looking out over the water.

  Faye sat down in a chair she didn’t recognize. Ylva must have brought it from her own home. Unless they’d bought everything new. Out with the old. In with the new. Whether it was wives or furniture.

  “I need money, Jack. Not much. Just enough until I get back on my feet.”

  He looked down at his hands and nodded.

  “Of course. I’ll transfer a hundred thousand kronor.”

  Faye shivered and Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  Behind him she saw the water, the ice starting to melt and break up. Julienne would love being able to run down there to swim in the summer.

  “I need to buy an apartment. Surely you want Julienne to be comfortable when she’s with me?”

  “I can’t see that it’s my responsibility to provide accommodation for you. That’s up to you to sort out. But sure, I understand that my daughter needs to have a certain standard, even if her mother hasn’t prioritized having an income of her own. I’ll transfer enough money for you to find somewhere to rent. But I recommend that you get yourself a job.”

  Faye clenched her teeth so hard that they squeaked. It went against the grain to come to him, cap in hand. But all their assets were in Jack’s name. She had no savings, no job. And she had to think of Julienne. Motherhood before pride. She needed to sort out cheap temporary accommodation until she got her money from the divorce. She had no idea how much she might get, but surely she ought to get
a decent share of Jack’s wealth? She had played a large role in its acquisition, after all. He had said that everything he had was hers, that his success was thanks to the two of them. How could Jack suddenly have forgotten that?

  She looked at him. His hair was a little shorter than usual. She thought back to when they had first met and she used to cut his hair in the kitchen out in Bergshamra. No matter how rich I get, you’ll always cut my hair, the way you touch me feels so great, he had said. Yet another promise he had broken. For the past three years he had been going to Marre, the hottest celebrity salon in Stockholm.

  “What are we going to do about Julienne?” she asked.

  “She’ll live here until you’ve sorted out a proper home, anything else is out of the question. She and Ylva are getting on really well, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  Jack smiled contentedly. Outside the window some geese were wandering along the shore. Hope they shit a lot, Faye thought.

  She tore her eyes from the birds.

  “Have you made your mind up?” she asked in a low voice.

  “Made my mind up?”

  “About her. That this is what you want?”

  Jack scratched his forehead. Stared at her as if he hardly understood the question.

  “Isn’t that pretty obvious?” he said. “I wasn’t happy with you, Faye.”

  Faye felt a jolt in her chest, as if he’d stuck a knife between her ribs. She wanted to ask how long he’d been having an affair with Ylva Lehndorf, but managed to stop herself. She could only handle one dagger to the heart at a time.

  She stood up abruptly and called for Julienne.

  “So you’ll bring her back at six o’clock this evening?”

  “Yes.”

  Julienne came running in. Faye took her by the hand and led her out of the house. As they drove off Julienne babbled excitedly about her new room. Apparently it was “even nicer than the Barbie Princess’s room.”

  Faye put her foot down on the accelerator.

  The weeks passed. Merged into a stagnant fog. Each evening Faye borrowed Chris’s car, drove out to Lidingö, and parked a short distance away from the magnificent villa. In the big picture windows she could see her life from outside, like a film, but the difference now was that Faye was no longer playing the central role. And it was no longer her life. Jack and Ylva unpacked their boxes, drank wine, kissed, ate dinner, laughed. Candles flickered in their room, no doubt scented candles from Bibliothèque. “Never anything reduced, only the most expensive,” as Jack often used to joke, even though he actually meant it. Sometimes she caught a glimpse of Julienne. Always on her own. Or with the full-time au pair Jack had employed.

  She told Chris she was driving around the city, but her friend knew her too well to be fooled. Her grief still overwhelmed her at times, but Faye told herself that it would pass. Jack was her heroin, and once she had got through the withdrawal she would get back on her feet, and the pain would fade with time. Just as it had before.

  She had a vague memory of once being the strong person in her family. That strength must be hiding in there somewhere. Jack couldn’t have stolen that from her as well.

  —

  Faye was sitting at Chris’s kitchen table when Jack called. She’d convinced herself that he was going to say it had all been a big mistake and that he wanted her to come home. Or that the past few weeks had been nothing more than a drawn-out nightmare. She would take him back without a moment’s hesitation. She would be as happy as a puppy. Yapping and jumping around him with her tail wagging.

  Instead Jack informed her that she wasn’t going to be getting any money at all.

  “The prenuptial agreement applies,” he said at the end of his long explanation. “And you signed that yourself. I thought it was airtight, but I wanted to check with my lawyers first. And sure enough, it is a valid agreement.”

  Faye stifled her anger as well as she could, but could hear the tension in her voice.

  “I gave up my studies at the School of Economics to support you while you and Henrik were getting Compare off the ground. Do you remember? Then when I said I wanted to get a job you told me there was no need and that I shouldn’t worry about it. You promised that the prenuptial agreement was merely a formality. For the board. That of course I’d get my share. The whole idea for the structure of the company came from me!”

  Jack didn’t answer.

  “This is her idea, isn’t it?” she said.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “It’s her, Ylva, she doesn’t want me to get any money. Don’t you think you’ve humiliated me enough? I’ve got nothing, Jack. My life is ruined.”

  “Don’t bring Ylva into this. The money’s mine, it’s what I’ve earned while you were at home having a nice time. Those long lunches at Riche with the girls didn’t exactly bring in any money, did they?” Jack snorted. “You’ll just have to go out and get a damn job like everyone else. Try living in the real world for a change. Most people don’t get the chance to live life as one long holiday the way you have the past few years. While I’ve been working hard to support my family.”

  Faye forced herself to stay calm. Breathed in. Breathed out. Refused to believe that he could simply draw a line under their years together. Under everything they had experienced.

  Jack interrupted her thoughts.

  “If you carry on fighting, I’ll crush you. Leave me and Ylva in peace.”

  After he hung up Faye sat for a long time with the phone in her hand. Then, to her own surprise, she let out a roar. A primal scream that she hadn’t heard for many, many years, in another life. Now it bounced off the walls like a violent echo.

  Faye was panting by the time she finally stopped. She threw herself back in her chair. Enjoyed the pain of the hard back of the chair. Welcomed the anger that surged through her.

  She felt the familiar darkness seep through every pore of her body, the darkness she had managed to forget. She had been pretending it had never existed, that it had never been part of her. But now, very slowly, she started to remember who she was, who she had been.

  The hatred was familiar, comforting. It embraced her in its warm cocoon, giving her a purpose, giving her a firm footing again. She would show Jack. She was going to get back on her feet.

  Faye used the metro for the first time in many years. She got on at Östermalmstorg, traveled out to Norsborg, then came back again. She got off at T-Centralen and wandered across Sergels Torg, where the drug trade was still in full swing, just as it had been when she first arrived in Stockholm thirteen years ago.

  But Stockholm felt like a different place. There was so much to see and explore now that she no longer had to worry about what Jack thought was “inappropriate.” Faye was thirty-two years old, but felt like she had been born again.

  She crossed Sveavägen close to the plaque marking the site where Olof Palme was shot.

  A few hardy souls were hunched over their beers smoking in the spring wind at the outdoor tables beside the church. The poor, the unemployed, the outcasts. Scum, as Jack called them.

  Faye opened the door and walked in. The bartender raised his eyebrows as he looked at her obviously expensive coat. At least Jack had let her keep her clothes when he cleared their apartment.

  She ordered a beer and sat down in a corner. It tasted bland. Thoughts were swirling through her head. How humiliated had she been? Had everything Jack said been a lie? Was Ylva the only one, or had there been more? Things she hadn’t wanted to think about before now. But now she needed to wallow in those thoughts, feed her anger. Of course there had been others. She knew Jack. The way he really was.

  She got her mobile out of her bag and brought up Alice’s number.

  “Have you got a few minutes?” Faye said when Alice eventually answered.

  She heard her hesitate.

  “I’d like to ask
you a few questions. And I want you to answer honestly.”

  “Hold on . . .”

  The sound of a child crying grew louder behind her. Alice called for the au pair, then closed a door and the noise of the crying became more distant.

  “Okay, I’m listening,” she said.

  “You know all about Ylva. I assume it had been going on for a while. I want to know how long, and if there were others.”

  “Faye, I . . .”

  “Skip the bullshit, Alice. I get that you knew all along. That’s okay. I’m not looking for a fight. I just want to know the truth.”

  Alice didn’t say anything for a long time. Faye waited patiently. Eventually Alice took a deep breath.

  “Jack has been unfaithful to you for as long as I’ve known Henrik. With everyone, Faye. Jack would fuck anything with a pulse. Sometimes I felt like rubbing your face in it, to pull you down from your high horse where you used to sit and judge Henrik. And me. But I never did. I know how it feels, after all.”

  Alice fell silent. Presumably aware that she had betrayed her ambivalence over Henrik’s affairs. The ambivalence that Faye had never believed, not deep down.

  Faye let her words sink in. It didn’t hurt as much as she had imagined it would. She almost felt relieved. On some level she had always known.

  “I’m sorry,” Alice said hesitantly.

  “It’s okay. I had a feeling.”

  “You won’t mention this conversation to Jack?”

  “I promise.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You should leave Henrik,” Faye went on in a dry, factual voice. “We’re too good for this shit, to be trampled on and exploited like this. No doubt you’ll realize that one day. It wasn’t my choice, but I’ve got there now. And once you emerge on the other side, it’s rather a liberating place to be.”

  “But I’m happy.”

  “So was I. Or so I thought. But time catches up with us, Alice. Sooner or later you’ll end up where I am now, and you know that.”