When she came she stroked the back of his neck and let out a loud laugh.
This was a new phase of life, and it was her turn to enjoy it.
Faye looked out of the window at the trees rushing past. She was sitting on the train to Västerås with a bundle of sketches in her bag. She had left Kerstin in charge of the dog-walking business, and was on her way to meet a company that designed packaging.
Her products needed to be good, but there was something that was even more important if she was to be successful. Social media. It was all about reaching out, being visible in the torrent, going viral. And packaging was a simple way to create a must-have feel and make influencers advertise her products with their Instagram and Facebook accounts. The products needed to make the consumer feel special, and they needed to look good on pictures taken with mobile phones.
Faye had decided that the pots of skin-cream should be black, and the round lid adorned with an ornate, gold-coloured letter R. But the packaging wasn’t only about the look of the jars. There had to be a story behind it all. All successful products these days had a story. Like Elizabeth Arden’s Eight Hour Cream. It didn’t matter whether she really had developed the cream to heal the leg of one of her injured horses, and that the wound healed in eight hours. The fact that customers wanted to believe the story was what counted. Everyone loved a good story. And Faye had one hell of a story.
As the train swept through the Mälar Valley she felt nothing but pure, unadulterated joy. This was what she had been longing for: the chance to build a company from the ground up. Jack had taken that dream away from her. And she hadn’t protested. When had he first been unfaithful to her? Had he ever been faithful? Even when she was sure he loved and desired her?
She had spent a lot of time wondering why Jack had replaced her with Ylva, a career woman, when he had wanted Faye to be at home, but she had come to realize that it was the chase that interested men like Jack. They always wanted something new to play with.
She had also realized that he liked having power. The power to turn her into someone that she wasn’t.
She would never let a man own her again.
It was raining when she emerged from the station. She found a taxi, jumped in and gave the driver the address. Västerås was an awful lot bigger than Fjällbacka, but for some reason the people made her think of her home town. She always used to fend off those memories whenever they popped up. But something had changed after the turbulence of the past few months. People from her childhood and teenage years often came into her mind. The look on her father’s face when something wasn’t the way he wanted. The clenched expression on Sebastian’s face. The accident that had affected the whole community. Her mum’s pale arms and loud crying. The way her classmates had looked at her afterwards. Sympathetic. Curious. Intrusive.
She had left all that behind. But would she ever be able to truly get away from it?
The car pulled up while she was lost in her memories. The driver turned to look at her. His mouth was moving but Faye didn’t hear a word of what he was saying.
‘Sorry?’
‘Card or cash?’
‘Card,’ she said, and dug in her handbag for her purse.
She got out of the taxi, and a beige industrial building rose up in front of her. The rain had eased slightly, but small, cold drops were still falling. She pulled the door open and stepped into the entrance hall. A female receptionist with permed red hair looked up at her.
‘Welcome,’ she said, but it sounded more like ‘please, get me out of here’. She had been busy filing her nails when Faye walked in.
‘Thanks – I’m here to see Louise Widerström Bergh.’
The receptionist nodded. Tapped at her computer.
‘Please, have a seat.’ She gestured towards some seats over by the window. ‘Coffee?’
Faye shook her head. There was a stack of magazines on the windowsill behind the sofa. She picked up a three-week-old celebrity magazine and leafed through it. There was an article announcing that John Descentis had broken up with his girlfriend. Faye studied the picture. It was the same woman he had been with at Riche, Suzanne Lund, apparently. The article claimed she was both a model and a singer.
‘I’m not easy to live with,’ John explained in a quote. No, but who the hell is? Faye thought, remembering their desperate, pointless fuck in the cinema. How grubby and sordid it had been. That had been all she thought she deserved at the time. Now, in hindsight, she wished she’d told Jack about it, to rub his nose in it. She had been on the brink of telling him several times but never had. Largely for fear of being met with complete indifference.
She heard footsteps in the corridor. A woman in a blouse and suit-trousers came towards her. She exuded a cool demeanour as she looked Faye up and down.
‘Louise Widerström Bergh,’ she said, and held out a limp, slightly moist hand.
‘Faye. Faye Adelheim.’
The moment they walked into her office Faye’s phone rang.
It was Jack. He probably wanted to shout at her about her behaviour in Riche. She dismissed the call and took out her sketches. She was no good at drawing herself, but Chris was helping until they could afford to bring in a professional. Louise settled down behind the desk as Faye sank onto the visitor’s chair.
‘This shouldn’t be a problem,’ Louise said, putting on a pair of reading glasses. ‘A little something to keep yourself busy?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Well, obviously I know who you are. I’m assuming this is for a party or something?’
Faye took a deep breath.
‘I want thirty thousand of each of the three designs I’ve got sketched out here. Can you manage that, or should I look for someone else?’
Louise pursed her lips.
‘Thirty thousand? Of these? I assume you can guarantee the order? The market for this type of product is already oversupplied, and obviously we can’t afford to spend money on goods we don’t end up getting paid for, as I’m sure you can appreciate. Of course if you were still married it would be a completely different matter. Jack Adelheim would be an excellent guarantor, but as I understand that you’re now separated …’
‘You haven’t read the description of the concept? The one I emailed you? Don’t you appreciate the unique aspects of what I’m going to be bringing to a very demanding market?’
Faye felt frustration burning her throat.
Louise Widerström Bergh snorted and took her glasses off. She shot Faye a patronizing smile.
‘Yes, but like I said, I thought we were looking at some sort of themed party. Obviously I know the sort of life you Östermalm wives lead, and that isn’t the reality for the rest of us. To be honest, I think the idea of launching a brand based on some sort of girl power suggests that you’ve got your head in the clouds. People in Stockholm are the only ones who can afford that sort of thing, out here in the rest of the country we let women be women and men be men. No, I’m not going to risk putting this packaging into production only to have to chase you for payment.’
She started to laugh and Faye stood up. Her temples were throbbing.
‘I’ve got the capital to pay upfront for the whole order. You could have had the money in your account tomorrow. And if this goes the way I think it will, this could have turned out to be a good, ongoing source of income for your company. Maybe it could have paid for a couple of extra holidays for you and your family. Or a nice summerhouse by the water. Or whatever it is you dream about. But I’ll be taking my business elsewhere. And paying for someone else’s holiday cottage or Christmas break in the Maldives. And believe me, I’ll ask them to send you a postcard.’
She turned on her heel and walked out. She could feel Louise’s stare burning into her back.
She had missed twenty calls from Jack, but Faye waited until the train had pulled out of Västerås before she called him. After a long ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ harangue he launched into a diatribe about how inappropriate
it was to be seen socializing with people on benefits.
‘What are you so angry about?’ Faye asked when he stopped to take a breath.
Anger and frustration at the failed meeting were still in her system.
Outside the landscape was sweeping past faster and faster. Jack’s anger didn’t prompt any reaction in her at all. She shut her eyes and remembered her night with Robin. Against her better judgement she had ended up giving him her number, and had already received five text messages telling her all the things he wanted to do with her. Jack’s voice broke through her fantasies and she opened her eyes in irritation. He was going on and on in a shrill, whiny voice. Like a child who had lost his favourite toy.
‘Sitting in Riche making out with some boy who could have been your son. In public. That sort of shit rebounds onto me.’
‘Oh, you mean Robin? He’s twenty-five. I’m thirty-two. I’d have to have had him when I was seven. You like numbers, Jack, so how about this one: there’s a bigger age gap between you and Ylva Lehndorf than between me and Robin.’
‘For fuck’s sake, that’s not the same thing at all!’
‘Why not? I’m genuinely curious now.’
‘I’m not behaving like some cheap whore in a club without a thought for this family’s reputation.’
‘No, you just fucked her behind my back in our home, in our bed. And to be honest, I don’t actually know which family you’re talking about, Jack.’
He spluttered. Then said in a more controlled voice:
‘Don’t do it again.’
‘I shall do exactly what I want. You have no mandate to tell me how I should live my life, who I sleep with or where I sleep with them. Goodbye, Jack.’
She ended the call. Shut her eyes. Felt Robin’s tongue flitting across her clitoris. Her phone buzzed. Another text from Robin, telling her what he wanted to do to her. She hesitated, then sent a reply:
I’m on my way back from Västerås. Will be at yours in a couple of hours. Who could turn down an offer like that?
Faye took another sip of wine. She could feel some of the other guests at Sturehof staring at her, but ignored them. Let them wonder what happened between me and Jack, she thought, let them whisper and gossip. One day I’ll show them all.
She cast a quick glance at the time again. Sophie Duval was seriously late.
If Faye was going to find another partner now that Louise Widerström Bergh had turned her down, she needed to prove that she had financial backing, from investors who would not only contribute capital, but could also contribute to the mythology of Revenge.
She had met Sophie Duval on a number of occasions when she was with Jack. She had always been effusive in her praise of Faye, and would be the perfect next investor after Chris. She had a high profile in the business world, she was young, attractive, and was a media favourite. She was constantly in the headlines, always with a new man on her arm, always talking about her new investments.
Faye had never liked Sophie, but this was business, and she was convinced she could persuade Sophie to see the value of investing in Revenge.
Faye had finished her first glass by the time Sophie glided in.
‘A glass of champagne, please. And I think I’m in the mood for the shellfish platter today,’ Sophie said as she sat down, without looking at the waiter.
She tossed her dark hair back and turned her attention to Faye.
‘How lovely that you got in touch! The last time we met was Oscar’s fiftieth birthday party in Cannes, wasn’t it?’
Before Faye had a chance to reply Sophie had turned and clapped her hands to get the waiter’s attention.
‘How can it take so long to get a glass of champagne?’ She glared at the waiter, who came running over with a glass and a bottle. ‘It may not be champagne-o’clock yet, but I got back from Hong Kong yesterday, so I’m still on Hong Kong time.’
Faye sighed silently to herself in response to Sophie’s shrill laughter. But as long as she offered an investment Sophie could act as forced as she liked.
The shellfish platter arrived along with Faye’s grilled char.
‘God, this is soooo good,’ Sophie said, slurping happily from an oyster. ‘Better than sex, if you ask me.’
She took a large gulp from her third glass of champagne, then looked at Faye.
‘So tell me, darling, how are you? Have things settled down? Divorces are never fun, and I should know. I saw Jack and Ylva in Båstad last weekend – they’re such a sweet couple. From what they were saying, little Julienne sounds completely adorable. Obviously they were sad it wasn’t possible to come to an agreement with you, so that they could have taken her with them.’
She dabbed at her mouth with the linen napkin.
‘If you want my advice, you always have to think of what’s best for the child in situations like that, no matter how sad and upset you might feel.’ Sophie put her hand on Faye’s. ‘Our children’s wellbeing is the most important thing of all, don’t you think?’
Faye swallowed several times, she couldn’t let Sophie see how irritated she felt. It had been Jack’s weekend to have custody, but he had texted Faye at only three hours’ notice to say that he couldn’t possibly have Julienne because of a hastily arranged business trip.
She smiled at Sophie. For the time being the most important thing of all was the bigger picture: securing the money and investment she needed.
‘Thank you, Sophie,’ she said, then bent down to take out the folder containing her prospectus for Revenge.
Sophie helped herself to half a lobster, then waved her hand dismissively.
‘Let’s eat first, we can deal with business afterwards.’
Faye let the folder slip back into her bag and reluctantly took a bite of the char. She had lost her appetite, but Sophie seemed to be starving. She licked her fingers noisily and occasionally let out a shrill ‘Hello, daaaarling!’ when she caught sight of someone she knew.
She managed to get through another two glasses of champagne before she finished the platter and leaned back contentedly.
‘So what do you say, shall we talk business now?’ Faye said, reaching for her folder again.
‘Of course, darling,’ Sophie said.
She glanced at her watch.
‘Oh Lord, is that the time already? I’m late for my next meeting! Darling! This has been too lovely! We must do it again! Call my secretary and we’ll fix another date. But it won’t be for the next three or four weeks, I’ve got trips to Paris, London, New York and Dubai lined up! I practically seem to have taken up residence in the VIP lounge at Arlanda these days!’’
Another shrill laugh, then she was gone.
Faye sat there in mute astonishment. With a bill that was the equivalent of what she usually spent in an entire week.
At first Faye couldn’t quite understand the sense of emptiness she felt. Then she realized. It was resignation. For the first time she was feeling a deep, overwhelming sense of resignation.
Julienne was snoring gently beside her. Her eyelashes looked like little fans above her cheeks, her face was calm and relaxed, and her nose was twitching slightly in her sleep. Exactly the same expression she had had as a baby, sleeping in her crib. Faye used to laugh at her back then, thinking she looked like a baby rabbit twitching its nose. But now all she could do was smile weakly. She felt utterly exhausted, her meetings with Louise and Sophie had sucked all the life out of her.
She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. Obviously she couldn’t assume that every woman would automatically understand what she wanted to do, what she wanted to say, simply because they were women. But even if it was naïve, that was probably what she had been hoping. Now she wasn’t at all sure how to recharge her batteries. The next would be make-or-break for the company. What if that one failed as well? The whole project would collapse if that happened. She wouldn’t be able to achieve what she’d set out to accomplish. Jack would be able to carry on his life undisturbed, without having to pay any price a
t all. The thought made her skin crawl.
The sound of Kerstin working in the kitchen interrupted her worrying. Kerstin had insisted on cooking that evening, and Faye was pretty sure she was making one of Faye’s favourite dishes. Probably stuffed cabbage rolls.
Julienne had her tea before she went to bed, Kerstin wanted to be able to have a quiet talk with Faye, just the two of them. When Faye walked in the door earlier that evening she had been aware that she must have looked deflated. Kerstin was usually able to cheer her up, but Faye wondered if that was going to work tonight. Doubts were clinging to her like sticky tar.
Julienne changed position in her sleep. She wasn’t often allowed to sleep in Faye’s bed, but tonight Faye wanted her daughter close to her. She would have dinner with Kerstin, talk through what had happened, then try to sneak back into bed beside Julienne again, and fall asleep to the sound of her breathing. She watched her daughter as she lay there in her thin white nightie, the one with the unicorn on, then gently placed her free hand on her chest and felt her heart beating. Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum. Gradually her own heart started to fall into line and follow the same rhythm. That helped clear her thoughts. In the kitchen she could hear Kerstin clattering pans. The smell of food spread through the bedroom and Faye heard her stomach rumble. She felt her daughter’s rhythmic heartbeat through her palm again. Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum. Her despair and frustration at the failed meetings began to fade. It wasn’t over yet. She still had the most important meeting to come. And she wasn’t going to let that one fail.
Faye was making her way across the cobblestones of Blasieholmen. She realized she was feeling nervous. Her meeting with Irene Ahrnell was particularly important. Through her investment company, Ahrnell Invest, she owned a large slice of the three largest chains of department stores in Sweden. Not only was she a potential investor in Revenge, but she could help to get the products into shops. Right from the start Faye had known that Irene could determine if Revenge was going to be a success or just another of the thousands of failed hair-care products and perfumes.
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