The Gilded Cage

by Camilla Lackberg

  Of course there was no way she could build up enough capital merely through walking dogs, but she invested every spare krona. She read the financial papers and followed all the major news media to keep herself up-to-date, and was able to use that knowledge in her investments. She had a natural gift for finance, but didn’t take any great risks. She stuck at a level where her capital was slowly but surely growing larger.

  She had lost fifteen kilos since Jack said he wanted a divorce. Not because she cared any more, but she knew Jack’s weak points. Men’s weak points. Getting thin was a necessary step to achieving the goal she had set herself.

  Her old clothes were now too loose, and Kerstin had made a couple of extra holes in her belt to keep her jeans up. Faye just laughed when Kerstin said she deserved some new clothes. Not a chance. Two hundred thousand. Until then she wasn’t going to waste money on anything that wasn’t essential.

  Since Faye had moved in with Kerstin she was allowed to have Julienne every other week, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that Ylva Lehndorf had grown fed up with playing happy families over on Lidingö. And Faye already knew that Jack had no interest in having Julienne more than was strictly necessary. Making it difficult for Faye to see her daughter had merely been another way to hurt Faye. Jack called more and more often to ask if she could look after Julienne.

  Kerstin was delighted to have a child in the house. She did everything Julienne asked, and was more than happy to drop her off at preschool in the morning.

  Faye and Kerstin shared responsibility for Julienne, like a little family. Whenever Faye wondered if Julienne was taking up too much of her time, Kerstin would look at her as if she were mad.

  ‘Your daughter is the little girl I’ve always dreamed of, and I’m so happy I don’t have to be on my own any more,’ she said, gesturing in the direction of the living room where Julienne was crouched on the floor drawing. ‘She’s a miracle, an angel, and I’m already dreading the day when you move out.’

  Faye was surprised to realize that she felt the same.

  The August sun was shining on Faye and Chris as they walked past Enskede sports ground with three dogs: a dwarf schnauzer and two golden retrievers. To their mutual surprise, Chris was holding the leash of the schnauzer, Ludde. Faye knew that Chris had always hated animals.

  ‘I could actually imagine getting one of these,’ Chris said. ‘Then I wouldn’t have to chase after a man to share my life with.’

  ‘That’s not such a bad idea. Now that I’ve got something to compare it with, I have to say that I prefer dogs to men any day of the week.’

  ‘Speaking of Neanderthals, how’s it all going? You’re looking almost indecently happy.’

  Faye met her gaze. ‘I am.’

  ‘It’s so good, seeing you like this. I realize that you don’t want to spend the rest of your life dog-walking, but the past few months without that idiot have done you so much good.’

  Faye looked on as one of Mrs Lönnberg’s retrievers peed against a lamppost.

  ‘I’ve got a business proposal for you,’ she said. ‘An investment opportunity.’

  ‘Really? Let’s hear it!’

  ‘Not here. Not like this.’

  She nodded towards the dribbling dog that was now frantically trying to hump the schnauzer. She jerked the leash to separate them.

  ‘Have you got time for dinner this weekend? I’d like to show you my business plan.’

  ‘Sure. On one condition.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘That we go out together afterwards. Drink some wine, spend time together, talking, flirting with guys. I’ll book a table. My treat. All you have to do is turn up with your business plan and that beautiful smile I’ve missed so much. Ideally with that body of yours squeezed into something super tight. If you haven’t got anything suitable you’re welcome to borrow one of my outfits. I’ll send some things over later. It’s time for you to shake the dust off. You’ll soon need a tin-opener to get between your legs. You know it can seal up if you don’t use it for a long time, don’t you?’

  Chris grinned and Faye couldn’t help smiling. A night out with Chris sounded like something she’d be more than happy to go along with. At last she felt like starting to live again.

  When Jack called, at the last minute as usual, to ask if she could have Julienne for the weekend, Faye said no for the first time. She hated to lose a moment with her daughter, but she had to think long term.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’m going out with Chris.’

  ‘But Ylva and I are going away, we’ve booked a suite at the Yacht Hotel in Sandhamn.’

  ‘Good job they do an excellent children’s buffet there.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘No buts, Jack. I’m sorry, but you can’t call on Friday morning to ask something like this. Have a good time in Sandhamn.’

  She hung up before he had time to protest.

  At Teatergrillen the maître d’ gave her a friendly nod and showed her to the table. Faye felt people’s eyes on her back as she strode through the room. She was wearing high heels and a short black dress that clung to her waist. All borrowed from Chris. She was wearing her hair down. It had been years since she felt this attractive.

  Chris stood up and gave a theatrical round of applause. The old blokes with their buttoned jackets and bulging waistlines stared at them as they gorged themselves on duck liver and oysters.

  ‘Bloody hell, you look good.’

  ‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ Faye said, running one hand over Chris’s silvery sequined dress.

  ‘Chanel,’ Chris said, sitting down. ‘Seeing as we’re planning to mix business with pleasure, why don’t we get down to work? Because I’m planning to get drunk later and I don’t want to get dragged into any of your crazy ideas when I’m under the influence. I’m not good at taking sensible decisions after too much drink. Entertaining decisions, sure, but not always very sensible.’

  Faye sat down opposite Chris on the curved, red velvet banquette.

  A waiter filled Faye’s glass as she fished out the sheet of paper containing her business plan.

  ‘Here,’ she said, pushing it across the table.

  Chris picked it up and read the single word that was written on it: Revenge. She burst out laughing.

  ‘What …?’

  ‘Do you remember saying you wanted to offer me a job? You said I understood women. I’ve spent the past few months analysing women’s needs and desires. And do you know what almost all of them want? Revenge. For all our sisters who have been broken down by idiots, all the unfaithful husbands who have cast us off for a younger model. All the men, all the guys who have exploited us, patronized us and deceived us.’

  Chris looked highly amused.

  ‘And how are you going to get your revenge?’ she said, sipping her champagne.

  She looked smart and expensive. A lethal combination.

  ‘I’m going to show Jack that I’m smarter than he is, and take over his company. And I’m going to do it by building up an empire. Together with other women. Have you ever thought about how many fantastic female entrepreneurs we’ve got in this country, women who own department stores, PR companies, financial businesses? There are far too few of them, but they’re out there and they’re starting to get noticed. I’m going to create a business model where I own fifty-one per cent of the company and have forty-nine per cent to sell to investors. I’m going to bring in forty-nine businesswomen and let them each have one per cent of the company. I’m going to seek out each and every one of them, tell my story, listen to theirs – and get them to invest. Social media will play a crucial role. Every girl with a blog or an Instagram account is going to post links to Revenge, because they’ll all want me to succeed. Getting this to go viral is going to be a piece of cake.’

  ‘So what is it you’re going to be selling?’

  Chris gestured to the waiter to top up their champagne. She’d emptied her glass in three mouthfuls. A group of
businessmen in the next booth had started casting covetous glances at them, and Chris turned her back on them.

  ‘Hair-care products and perfume,’ Faye said.

  Chris nodded slowly, but still looked sceptical.

  ‘Tough market,’ she said drily. ‘Over-established. The competition’s brutal. And it’s a business that requires a lot of investment and capital, mostly for marketing and PR. It’s a huge risk.’

  ‘Yes. I understand that. It could end up being a complete disaster. But I don’t think it will. And what I want to ask is if you’ll be my first one-per-cent investor.’

  ‘How much will it cost me?’

  ‘One hundred thousand kronor.’

  ‘Where do I sign?’

  Chris held her glass up for the waiter, who filled it to the brim. Faye held hers up as well. She knew Chris would get it. The first, and easiest, single percentage share was sold. Now there were only forty-eight hard ones to go.

  When they’d finished eating they asked the maître d’ to get them a table at Riche. They were ushered through the kitchen, a short cut that only a few initiates knew about. Bright light, the chef’s orders through the hatch, the sound of crockery and people dashing about.

  As usual Riche was packed. Chris ordered a bottle of cava. By then they were too drunk to need champagne. That would be a waste of money, and Faye actually preferred cava and prosecco to champagne anyway. In a blind tasting she might well not have been able to tell the difference.

  There was a swaying, intoxicated wall of flesh over by the bar. Most of them were a few years older than her. It was hardly surprising that Riche was known as the divorce ditch. It was a meat-market for middle-aged divorcees, where the size of men’s wallets mattered more than the size of their cocks. And where women who’d had far too much Botox clung desperately to the delusion that they could pass for twenty in the right lighting.

  The bottle arrived in an ice-bucket and Faye raised her glass to Chris.

  ‘To freedom,’ she said, then realized it sounded more pompous than she had intended.

  The alcohol had reduced her ability to filter out banalities.

  But Chris looked her seriously in the eye.

  ‘Well, it only took you thirteen years to realize,’ she said. ‘But now you’re free. Cheers! To Jack! May the Lord have mercy on him!’

  She giggled.

  ‘Do you think I can succeed? Faye said, putting her glass down. ‘With Revenge?’

  ‘I think the first part, finding investors, will be the easy bit. Like you said, we’ve all been hurt. One way or another. We all want to get our own back, and can identify with your message. It’s a stroke of genius from a PR and marketing perspective. Vengeance sells.’

  Chris grinned and emptied her glass. A waiter hurried over to refill it. They were used to thirsty women here.

  ‘It’ll take a few years. Is that crazy? That I’m prepared to devote so much time to getting my revenge?’

  Faye felt a flicker of doubt.

  ‘No. Not when you think about what he’s done. Is your conscience starting to get at you?’

  Before Faye had time to answer, Chris went on, her glass raised halfway to her mouth:

  ‘Don’t forget that you helped build up Compare. Without you, Jack and Henrik would never have succeeded. Getting divorced is fine, it happens, but it’s not fine to leave your previous life partner and the mother of your child out on the street. Not after all you’ve done, and everything you’ve had to put up with. All the shit he put you through. And by that I don’t just mean after you split up.’

  ‘You’re right. I know you’re right.’

  ‘A man would never think the way you do. He’d press on without hesitation.’

  A figure appeared at the end of the table and Faye looked up. A guy in his mid-twenties met her gaze. He was wearing a tight black T-shirt and dark trousers. His arms were covered in tattoos. Shaved hair, full lips. He was impossibly handsome. Like a young Jack.

  ‘Sorry to bother you,’ he said, ‘but my friends and I are tired of standing at the bar being jostled by the other losers. We were wondering if we could seek asylum at your table? Or at least apply for a temporary visa?’

  A few metres away two more guys raised their hands in greeting.

  ‘Just one moment,’ Chris said.

  ‘Sure, I’ll be over there,’ he said, and went back to his friends.

  Chris laughed.

  ‘What do you say?’ she asked.

  Faye shrugged.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because only a few months ago you would have been embarrassed to sit here with three handsome young men.’

  ‘I was married then. Besides, men have always hung out with younger women without feeling embarrassed. It’s high time we learned to do the same, and—’

  She fell silent abruptly when she found herself looking directly into Alice’s eyes. She was sitting with a group of people a few tables away. When she saw that Faye had seen her she turned away at once.

  ‘Let them come, it’ll be fun,’ she said, and drained her glass.

  She could feel Alice’s stare burning into her as she got her glass refilled, and noticed them sitting there whispering.

  Chris ordered two more bottles of cava and made room for the young men. All three were wide-eyed, pleasant, and clearly impressed. Faye couldn’t help thinking that this generation of men was very different to Jack’s. To them, successful women weren’t at all frightening. They treated them with friendly curiosity and asked about Chris’s work. They showed nothing but admiration for what she had achieved.

  She could understand the appeal of being surrounded by young, attractive people. It was intoxicating.

  The conversation flowed easily, if very much on a superficial level. Nothing seemed complicated to these young men, who hadn’t yet been weighed down by life. They flirted shamelessly. Faye’s cheeks flushed, from both the wine and their compliments. The whole time she felt Alice and her table keeping an eye on proceedings. There wasn’t enough Botox in the world to hide the looks of horror on their faces. The only question was whether they would be able to lower their eyebrows again afterwards.

  Jack would be furious, yell at her, but he couldn’t hurt her. What she did was no longer any of his concern. Or who she did it with. The thought intoxicated her even more than the cava. And for the first time in many months she felt the stirrings of interest between her legs. She grabbed hold of the guy in the black T-shirt, the one who had approached them first, pulled him towards her and kissed him. She started to get wet from the feel of his tongue against hers, his hands on her thighs. She kept her eyes on Alice the whole time.

  The kiss only lasted a few seconds. When their faces parted she nodded towards Alice, reached for her glass and raised it in a toast. Alice stared back at her, then turned demonstratively towards the person on the other side of her.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Faye laughed, focusing her attention on the guy in the black T-shirt.

  She could tell from his eyes that he wanted her, and when she glanced down she could see a bulge in his trousers. She had to stop herself from stroking his erection there and then, under the table at Riche. Instead she leaned towards him so he could get a better view of her cleavage. She knew her nipples were clearly visible, rock-hard against the fabric of the dress. Chris, as usual, had persuaded her not to wear a bra.

  ‘Robin,’ he said, staring at her breasts. ‘My name’s Robin.’

  ‘I’m Faye. And I’m planning to go home with you tonight.’

  She leaned forward and kissed him again.

  Faye woke up with a thumping headache. Memories of the previous day flashed past as she stretched. Her hand bumped into a tattooed arm, hard with muscle. Faye got up from the bed, walked over to the window and looked out. A car park and some blocks of flats. The sky was mottled and grey. Behind her the young man with the tattooed arm moved. Robert? Robin?

  ‘What time is it?’ he mumbled sleepily.

 
‘No idea,’ Faye said. ‘But it’s probably time for me to get going.’

  She felt uncomfortable in this small flat in Solna.

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  He stretched out on the black bedclothes and looked at her with puppy-dog eyes. Faye’s head was thudding out memories of last night. Hell, it had been a while since she’d had sex in a single bed in a cramped bedsit with all the usual accoutrements – glass table, black leather sofa, a yucca plant and the obligatory collection of Absolut vodka bottles on a shelf on the wall. Young guys seemed able to withstand any changes in fashion.

  ‘Really?’ she said, looking round for her clothes. ‘What are you going to do today?’

  ‘I thought I’d chill. Watch some football.’

  ‘Chill,’ she mimicked, unable to stop herself. ‘Sadly this old lady hasn’t got time to chill today. I need to get home.’

  ‘You’re no old lady …’ He smiled in a way that was simultaneously cute and sexy. ‘Can I have your number?’

  ‘Sorry, sweetie. It’s been a lot of fun. But me and men aren’t a good fit right now.’

  She heard how bitter she sounded. The previous evening had gone flat, her hangover was thudding against her skull and her tongue felt badly furred.

  He laughed and threw the pillow at her. She jumped out of the way.

  ‘You’re very sexy, you know that?’ he said.

  He got up from the bed. Naked. His abs glistened as he turned to face her. She drank in the sight of him. She’d forgotten how quickly young men could recharge. The night was a blur, but she remembered losing count of the number of times he had taken her.

  He walked towards her and she backed against the window with a smile. The glass felt cool on her backside. Robin kissed her. Pressed himself closer to her. She felt his erection against her thigh. Felt her body shouting for more. She sat on the windowsill. His face roamed over her body. Nipping, kissing, tickling. Her thighs, her crotch, her stomach. She groaned loudly, grabbed hold of his head and pushed it down between her legs. Leaned back and allowed herself to simply enjoy it. Without feeling that she had to do anything in return. He was happy for the chance to satisfy her, taking pleasure from her pleasure. Which was something she hadn’t experienced in a very long time.