The clock was her worst enemy.
She remembered her involvement as the head of the student council in high school; Greenpeace, Amnesty, the burning will to change things. And she remembered how it felt when she still had the conviction that what was wrong could be fixed, injustices could cease, and if she only put in enough time and energy then the world could be changed. Back then her outrage over the unjust imprisonment of a person on the other side of the globe would make her start petition drives and organise demonstrations. Now that she was grown up and really could do something, she was grateful if she managed to get to a day-care parents’ meeting that affected her own son. The desire to change the world had been precipitately transformed into a hope that there would be enough hours in the day – her outrage into a deep sigh and some guilty spare change in the Red Cross collection box at the grocery store. All to silence her guilty conscience. Always new decisions to make. What telephone plan to sign up with, which electrical company would be most advantageous, where to invest the pension money, which school was the best, which family doctor, the lowest interest on the mortgage. And they all affected her little world: what was best and most beneficial for her and her family. Endless decisions to make, and you still never knew if you had made the right ones. Everyone thinking of themselves first. When all mandatory decisions had been made, there was no energy left to make a stand on the issues that really should matter. The ones that could change what really should be changed. She remembered the ironic sticker she had had on her notice-board in her bedroom when she was a girl: ‘Of course I take a stand on all the injustices in the world. I’ve said ‘bloody hell’ many times!’ She would never be like that. Or so she had thought back then.
‘Are you angry today?’
Axel didn’t answer Kerstin’s question, and Eva went over and squatted down by his side.
‘It wasn’t a good morning. Isn’t that right, Axel?’
Filippa and her mother came in the door and Kerstin’s attention was diverted to them instead.
Eva pulled Axel close and held him tight.
Everything’s going to be all right. You don’t have to be afraid. I promise I’ll work this out.
‘Hey Axel, the meeting’s starting now, everyone else is already inside. Come on, let’s go in. Today it’s your turn to get the fruit from the kitchen.’
Kerstin reached out her hand to him, and he finally gave in, went over to his corner and hung up his jacket. Eva stood up.
‘Henrik will pick him up at four.’
Kerstin smiled and nodded, took Axel by the hand, and went into the play-room. Eva followed along behind. Actually she might be the one who was having the hardest time saying goodbye today. Axel let go of Kerstin’s hand and ran over to Linda, one of the other day-care teachers, and climbed up on her knee.
Gratefully she felt the worst of her worries recede. It was Axel’s everyday world she saw before her, and until she fixed all the problems at least he was having a good time here. Linda stroked Axel’s hair and gave her a quick smile.
Eva smiled back.
Here he was safe.
Jonas got to his appointment with Dr Sahlstedt early. He had been waiting for more than fifteen minutes when the doctor came hurrying down the corridor and opened the door to his office.
‘Sorry you had to wait, I had to look at a patient down in intensive care. Come in.’
He closed the door behind them and went over to sit down at his desk.
Jonas just stood there. Anna’s calm seemed to be blown away, the compulsion was well aware that he was defenceless now, and soon it would grow strong enough. Now he would have to pay for last night’s peace and quiet. He had felt the signals even when he was waiting in the corridor. A creeping unrest that had begun during the morning rounds. The looks from the staff over Anna’s sleeping body. No specific word, but rather a new tone of voice, a vague insinuation.
‘Please have a seat.’
He felt the pressure growing, taking over bit by bit.
Four steps forward to the visitor’s chair. Not three or five. Or else he would have to go back to the door and start over. Three and five had to be avoided at all costs.
Without touching the chair’s armrest he sat down and followed Sahlstedt’s hand with his gaze, the way it pulled over a brown folder but then rested on the closed casebook.
Dr Sahlstedt looked at him in silence.
Was it really four steps he had taken? He was no longer sure. Good Lord. Alingsås to Arjeplog 1179 kilometres, Arboga to Arlanda 144, Arvidsjaur to Borlänge 787.
‘How are you doing?’
The unexpected question took him by surprise. He knew that the compulsion couldn’t be seen on the surface. After all these years he had developed an exceptional ability to conceal his inner inferno.
As well as the shame over his weakness at not being able to control it.
‘Fine, thank you.’
Silence. If it was true that the doctor facing him actually was interested in the state of his health, then it was obvious that the reply had not satisfied him. There was a grave look in his eyes. An ominous gravity that made it clear that the conversation they were going to have was something more than just a normal report.
Jonas shifted his position in the chair. Don’t touch the armrests.
‘How old are you, Jonas?’
He swallowed. Not five. Not even with a two in front of it.
‘I’ll be twenty-six next year. Why do you ask? I thought we were going to talk about Anna.’
Dr Sahlstedt regarded him and then looked down at the table.
‘It’s not about Anna any longer. It’s about you.’
Borlänge to Boden 848, Borås to Båstad 177.
‘What . . . I don’t know what you mean.’
Sahlstedt raised his eyes again.
‘What kind of job did you have? Before all this happened, I mean.’
‘I was a postman.’
He nodded with interest.
‘I see. Do you ever miss your colleagues from work?’
Was he toying with him? Or maybe postmen worked in flocks in the high-class neighbourhood where he imagined Dr Sahlstedt lived.
The doctor in front of him gave a little sigh when he got no answer and opened the brown casebook.
Had he really not brushed against the armrest when he sat down? He was no longer certain. If he had, he would have to touch it again to neutralise the first time he touched it. But what if he hadn’t touched it? Good Lord, he had to neutralise it somehow.
‘You’ve been on sick leave for almost two and a half years now. As long as Anna has been here.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why is that, actually?’
‘What do you think? So I can be here with Anna, of course.’
‘Anna can get along here without you. The staff will take care of her.’
‘You know as well as I do that they don’t have time to work with her as much as necessary.’
Dr Sahlstedt suddenly looked sad; he sat quietly and looked down at his hands. The silence was about to drive Jonas crazy. With all his might he tried to resist the compulsion’s rage which was going berserk inside his body.
The