“Must they now?” Lena crossed her arms defiantly, her tone sharp. “And why is that?”
“I will see you at the next meeting,” Iris said, heading out of the kitchen, away from the sweet smell of sweat and sex, away from drama.
Lena hurried after her, her heels clip-clopping on the hardwood floor.
“When we have our monthly meetings, am I supposed to act like nothing happened?”
Iris was upset with herself. Why had she become involved with someone so close to home?
“Lena,” she said, the sweetness in her voice perhaps a tad too exaggerated. “That’s what we have done so far. Because we’re professionals.”
She kept walking, but Lena caught up with her.
“That’s because it’s been exciting, Iris, knowing we share this… bond. I don’t want it to end.”
“I care about you,” Iris said. “But you have always known I have a husband.”
“And I’m sure he would love to know what you have been up to!”
“As I’m sure your husband would,” countered Iris calmly.
Lena stormed out; the bells above the door dangerously close to smashing onto the floor.
Iris didn’t wish to hurt Lena but there seemed to be no other option. They couldn’t keep seeing each other. Lena would hopefully calm down.
Iris wiped the table off from the meeting, crumbs from cinnamon rolls and ginger biscuits falling into her hand. When she had restored order, she went to the bathroom and reapplied her lipstick. It was important to remain professional. She needed to go back to being Iris, the reliable librarian. The task for the day: to discard long-forgotten books that had lost their shelf appeal.
Shaking off images of Lena’s gym-trimmed body and her dramatic exit, Iris commenced the much needed weeding out process. In order to make space for new additions, some books unfortunately had to go.
She picked up a short novel that only one person had ever borrowed. Stefan. He had asked her to order the book two years previously. Despite the small town, known for being desolate during wintertime, her customers did have refined literary tastes. Stefan had just moved to Hågarp with his young family. ‘A fresh start’ he had called it, and had quickly become one of her most frequent customers. Keeping her on her toes, they had discussed her favourite authors: Leo Tolstoy, William Trevor, Doris Lessing and Virginia Woolf. Many regarded Woolf’s books as women’s literature but not Stefan. Gender was irrelevant, he had said and the meeting of their minds had been the foundation of a wonderful but short-lived friendship.
Stefan’s new start had ended in divorce and he and his wife had moved away. No one else had borrowed the book since. Iris had read it of course: a story about an older woman in a home for the elderly who became sexually involved with a young male carer. A controversial subject and well worth reading.
Just as she decided to keep the book, a group of teenagers arrived and parked themselves by the computers. They greeted her politely.
“Let me know if you need any help,” she said but before she had a chance to strike up a conversation, her phone rang. She normally didn’t answer it during working hours, but it was Karin and after the last phone call, she felt she should.
“Hi, Mum. I spoke to Dad.”
“Oh.” Iris felt anxious. What had Rolf actually said? Had he explained that their arrangement was his idea? That she had been reluctant but had gone along with it to avoid losing him?
“He said the same, Mum. That it was when you were younger, that he loves you and that it’s just the two of you now.”
Did he now? Perhaps he wasn’t so honest after all.
“Great. I’m glad we’re all on the same page,” Iris said, putting on a cheerful tone. “I have to go now, lots of people here.”
“Yes, I can hear that,” Karin laughed and they hung up.
More teenagers arrived and while the library got swamped with young voices and laughter, she could feel the phone in her hand vibrate, alerting her to a new message. Lena’s name appeared on the screen. Iris would have preferred no contact for a while but they did work together. She opened the text message.
Dear Iris, I thought you would enjoy the first lines from this poem by Natasha Trethewey. Heard of her? I’m guessing you haven’t.
The lies I could tell,
when I was growing up
light-bright, near-white,
high-yellow, red-boned
in a black place,
were just white lies.
If I don’t hear back from you, I will contact Rolf.
Angry and revenge-seeking. Iris hadn’t expected Lena to take the break-up quite so badly. She had assumed they were both fairly casual about it, but she realised now that Lena thought this was a one-off, worthy of telling Rolf if she didn’t get what she wanted. Iris clicked ‘Delete’.
Lena was right about one thing. It was white lies. Not real lies.
Chapter 16 – Daniel
September 2015
Dan was busy writing his own story. It had a happy ending.
“Where are the bottles?”
Frida was banging on his door, disturbing his creative process. He ignored her, continuing to form words, transfixed by the paper absorbing ink. But her furious knocking didn’t stop, which resulted in a Stephen King inspired moment: suddenly a woman died in his story, buried alive in the foundation of a construction site, her screams muffled by the wet cement. He decided to call her Frida. If she ever read it, that would teach her.
Dan liked that every door in their house had a key. Locking his room made him feel safe. No matter whom she brought home, he was untouchable. And it also kept his mother out when necessary.
“You little shit!” she shouted. “She didn’t suspect a thing, so bring them out.”
“I poured them down the sink,” he said calmly.
He hadn’t. Instead, he was going to sell every bottle. Vodka could fetch a good price, he reckoned. Better than beer. There were plenty of under-aged buyers around. Every town had them, even this seemingly perfect one. There was nothing else to do but get together with your friends and drink illegally. That was considered ‘cool’.
The door vibrated as she kicked it. Screaming.
“Focus on your bloody job, Frida,” he shouted back.
He remembered the last town they had lived in. His mother at the central square that had become her home away from home, where all the drunks hung out together, making it feel okay to drink a beer at nine in the morning. He had tried to bring her home several times. She had screamed but he had pulled at her top, told her to shut the fuck up and be a mother for once. Everyone had heard them. Her newfound buddies had laughed. It had been humiliating every time but he couldn’t give up on her, could he? Then nothing would improve.
He and Martin confiscated her booze regularly. This time, with Anna visiting, it had been different. She had willingly agreed to hide the bottles.
“Why the hell is your teacher coming over anyway?” she had asked. “As if I don’t have enough fucking problems!”
He had calmed her down, told her Anna was cool.
“Then why are we getting a home visit?”
“It’s a sort of welcome to the school thing,” he had said.
On the other side of the door, she continued her pleading.
“Just one fucking bottle, Dan! One!”
She hadn’t known that he had hidden the other bottles too, the ones she kept at the bottom of the ironing pile, behind the cleaning products under the sink, in the shed, under the seat in her car. Martin had always been one step ahead of her and with him locked up, Dan had to act the detective.
The best thing about this town was that Frida had to drive to the liquor store. Systembolaget was too far away for a walk or even a bike ride. He was hoping that would make the binges less frequent. She really needed to keep this job until he had Anna on the hook.
Luckily, Anna had witnessed the unbearable living conditions. He had added to the mess, but so what? No one clean
ed up around here, it wasn’t that far from reality. It would have looked even better with the frosted vodka bottles lined up on the table, but he wasn’t stupid. Then she definitely would have contacted social services.
“Dan!”
He continued to ignore her and after a while the kicking stopped. Sobs could be heard through the thin door.
“Fuck off, will you?” he said, feeling like his big brother.
“What’s happened to yo-u?” she stuttered between the cries. “My ba-a-by.”
“I’m not your fucking baby,” he muttered.
I’m somebody else’s baby.
Chapter 17 – Anna
October 2015
Anna had decided to stay late to prepare the next day’s classes but she kept checking the time. She had to be at the library in Hågarp at seven.
“Everything okay with Daniel?” Kent asked.
“I spoke to the mother,” she said.
“Good. How did you approach it?”
Kent already had his coat on, but he didn’t seem to be in a rush. The teacher’s lounge was unusually busy for this time of day but thankfully no one was sitting in their corner. She didn’t want to discuss Daniel openly. No other teacher seemed to have any real issues with him, and she didn’t want them to start looking for problems if there weren’t any.
“I wanted Daniel to be there,” she explained quietly. “I wanted him to hear that she cares, because she must do. All mothers who stick by their children and raise them care to some level.”
Not the right choice of words, she realised, but it was too late. Kent already looked concerned.
“Aren’t you letting this get too personal? Daniel is not you.”
“You would have done the same.”
He nodded contemplatively. “Perhaps.”
“It didn’t go well,” she revealed. “She seemed distant. I can’t explain it.”
“Depression? Drugs? Alcohol?”
“Not sure.” Anna hadn’t seen any evidence of drugs or alcohol. Maybe she was depressed? It would make sense, with Daniel’s father leaving, her sons getting into trouble, the responsibility to make ends meet.
“Anyway, I’m sure you’re expected at home,” she said. “We can talk some more another time.”
She valued Kent’s advice but something about this situation made her feel weary. Kent followed the rulebook and she wasn’t sure that was the way to get through to Daniel.
“Don’t stay too late,” he said.
*
It was already dark when Anna headed out of Mörna. Dim streetlights guided her out of town as she followed the windy road to Hågarp. Reindeer were known for making an appearance in these parts and so she held the steering wheel in a tight grip, her eyes constantly darting from left to right.
Eager to get to Hågarp, she also felt uneasy and slightly guilty. As a mother she felt that she should be at home with her children, that every moment away from work should be spent with Sebastian and Lukas. That was the reason she hadn’t picked up a hobby since they were born, to always be there for them. But by the time she walked up the stone steps to the library, she had convinced herself that she deserved this, that a book club would in fact make her a better mother.
Through the glass she could see that the library was deserted. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, drawing in the welcoming smell of books and perfume, which seemed to linger in the air. Once again she moved into the centre, the hub where all the borrowing and returning activity took place. Iris was behind the counter, crouched over a plastic crate.
“Hello,” Anna said.
“I’m just busy closing,” Iris said and Anna thought that perhaps she had got the date or the time wrong.
“Sorry, I thought… book club?”
“Oh, yes. That’s still on. I just need to get this delivery packed and lock up. Do you mind getting the coffee ready?”
Iris was just as stylish as she had been the last couple of times and Anna was pleased that she herself had made an effort. She was wearing a matching black outfit with a multi-coloured scarf loosely wrapped around her neck.
Anna followed Iris as she showed her to a small kitchen at the back. There was a sink, a coffee maker, a fridge, a small table with two chairs and an ugly photocopier, not unlike the one they used at school. Still, it was cosy.
Iris directed Anna to the coffee filters and Zoegas beans.
“How many people am I making it for?”
Iris took the reading glasses off and paused for a moment.
“Let’s see,” she said. “There were going to be four of us but one is working late and the other one just called about some car trouble.”
“Oh.” Anna felt disappointed. “So you want to cancel?”
“No. We can still have a chat. You’ve come all this way and you’ve read the book, haven’t you?”
Anna blushed. She had and she had to admit she was petrified of discussing an erotic, lesbian relationship set in the 1800s. Although perhaps it would be easier without other people there?
“I’m sure you have better things to do,” she said. “I can come back next week.”
“I need a cup of coffee,” Iris insisted. “I’ve been on my feet all day.”
“Alright then. I’ll just stay a short while.”
Anna got to work straight away: she put the filter and beans in, added water and switched the coffee maker on. While she waited for it to brew, she located a couple of mugs and some biscuits in a tin that she placed on a plate. Once ready, she loaded everything on a tray and carried it into the library.
Where should they sit? It wasn’t a large space but there were a number of reading chairs and low tables around.
“Over there,” Iris called and pointed to a couple of comfortable-looking orange reading chairs. Next to the chairs stood a wide, square pillar that had an old-fashioned, ceramic fireplace in it.
Anna placed the tray on a small table and sat down. The ceiling in this room, the main hall, was exceptionally tall and when Iris turned the lights off, only leaving a couple of floor lamps on, it almost felt spooky.
“This is what we normally do,” Iris said as she lit the tea candles on the table and the mantelpiece. “To switch off the work mode.”
“So this doesn’t feel like work to you?”
“Not really. I may work with literature but it would be sad if I couldn’t also enjoy it for what it is.”
Anna found herself wishing that Iris would smile. Was she disappointed to be left with only one person to discuss the book with? You just need validation. Erik’s words hurt.
“Thank you for inviting me,” she said.
“Thank you for coming.” Iris slipped her shoes off and pulled her feet into the chair. “We don’t have to discuss the book if you don’t want to?”
Iris eyed her quizzically over the red, moon-shaped glasses.
“It was just very different to the books that I normally read. Similar to Affinity of course but well… different all the same.”
“Different how?”
“I think, because of being a teacher, I have been stuck on the classics. Shakespeare, Sartre, Austen, Tolstoy…”
“Wow, I had no idea.” Iris did a dramatic bow to Anna and it made her laugh.
“Oh, no. I’m not… I mean it’s basic stuff. I’m completely hopeless when it comes to contemporary fiction.”
Iris seemed to view her with new eyes and although it felt good, she wanted to lower the expectations. Everything she covered at school was basic; she never had the time to delve too deeply as she tried to cover a broad spectrum of time periods.
“You mean you’re not used to reading such explicit books? You don’t cover D. H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover?”
“I don’t.” She smiled. “I have to admit, the sex scenes in Tipping the Velvet made me feel slightly uncomfortable.”
She had never been promiscuous. Erik was only her third sexual partner but when they first met he had made her feel that it w
as safe to explore.
“That’s good,” Iris said. “Makes you feel something.”
Anna picked up a biscuit, which crumbled dryly in her mouth.
“Do you often feel uncomfortable?” Iris asked.
Anna coughed. She certainly couldn’t accuse Iris of being predictable.
“You obviously don’t,” she said, finding her voice.
“Of course I do,” Iris said. “I hate large groups of people, for example.”
“Me too. I don’t understand the politics and the games. I thought getting older would make that easier but often I just can’t break the code.”
“Too many personalities in the mix, I think. Equally though, I don’t like being the centre of attention,” Iris continued. “It makes me feel self-conscious. I couldn’t be Nan or Kitty in Tipping the Velvet, on stage.”
“I agree,” Anna said. But then there were a lot of things Nan and Kitty did together that she couldn’t imagine doing.
They sipped the coffee, the sudden silence feeling comfortable at first but then Anna had to fill it with words. If only to maintain interest. She wanted to be invited back.
“They had a tough life, Nan and Kitty,” Anna said.
“The past shapes us, just like it shaped them.”
“I know what you mean,” Anna said. Her past had definitely shaped her and perhaps she wished they were talking about that.
Iris looked at her deeply then, as if she understood. “People, both in literature and real life, have all sorts of drama in their lives,” she said. “Everyone has had a dysfunctional upbringing to some extent.”
Anna nodded.
“Although it’s what you do with your baggage that really matters,” Iris continued.
“That’s true.”
Iris took her glasses off and wiped a tired-looking eye, a black mascara smudge appearing underneath. Anna felt that perhaps she should be heading out and not overstay her welcome.
“So what are we supposed to read for the next meeting?” she asked.
“I was thinking,” Iris said. “That perhaps we should meet weekly? A month seems too long. Don’t you think?”
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