Annet shook him off and hurried away as fast as she could. The man was unbearable. She tried to avoid him as much as possible, but he always managed to catch her off guard. Why couldn´t the earth just open up and swallow him, so they would all be rid of the old bastard?
Chapter 10
Gunhild Nielson was just serving a customer when she saw him approach through one of the bakery´s huge front windows. Oh hell, she thought, what is he doing here?
I thought he´d stopped coming round here. What does he want now? Thank God she was alone that morning. The other shop assistant had called in sick that morning and since the tourist season was almost over, Gunhild had no trouble taking care of the customers in the bakery all by herself.
The bakery was open all year round, since there was hardly anything Swedish people enjoyed more than their “Fika”. The word “Fika” basically encompassed the act of drinking coffee and eating cake or biscuits, or soft sweet buns or cinnamon rolls or tarts or doughnuts or anything that was sweet and sticky. So the bakery did business all year round, even without the tourists. Most of the cafes in and around Färjestaden though closed during the winter months, since most Swedish people liked to “fika” in the privacy of their own four walls.
Why pay for something if you can get it for free? This was unfortunately a common attitude which the majority of Swedish citizens in rural communities shared. So noone hardly ever encountered a café or a gastronomical establishment out in the Swedish countryside.
Per Nielson entered the bakery. To Gunhild´s surprise he actually waited until she had dealt with the only customer in the shop, before addressing her.
In the past he had wandered into the bakery while she was busy dealing with customers and had interrupted her with groundless threats and accusations. Of course this had not gone down well with her boss, who was an understanding woman, but had her limitations. She was most specifically not interested in losing business on account of Gunhild´s marital problems.
Gunhild had tried to reason with Per, but it was only when her boss had threatened to call the police that he had finally relented and left. And he had not been back until now.
She finally turned to him, “Per, what do you want? You know you´re not allowed in the bakery, my boss will call the police.”
“Yeah, yeah, don´t get your knickers in a twist. I only want to know Ingrid´s address in Borgholm.”
Ingrid was their younger daughter who worked and lived in Borgholm, which was the island´s capital.
“Why do you want her address? Don´t tell me you want to go and see her? Why would you want that?”
“She´s my daughter too, you know. A man can go and visit his daughter if he feels like it. Anyway, I have something for her. I want to give her some money.”
Gunhild gasped, “Money? You want to give her money? What, you think you can buy yourself back into their lives after all you´ve done? And anyway, where would you get money from? You´re on social security.”
“Never you mind. I have my sources of income and I want to share some of my good fortune with my daughter. So, where does she live?”
“I´m not telling you.”
“That´s what I thought. I shouldn´t have bothered coming here.” At that moment Eric came wandering in from the back room. He had a bit of a cold, so Gunhild had kept him home from school that day and taken him in to work with her. He pulled at her sleeve, “Mama, look. Eric finished the puzzle, all finished. Eric is a clever boy, no?” It was a puzzle which was designed for an age group several years younger than him of course.
Per groaned, “What is that that idiot son of yours doing here?”
Eric gave Gunhild a puzzled look, who quickly drew him aside and said, “Eric, sweetheart, you did very well with the puzzle. How about practicing your writing a bit? You might write a test next week in school, you know.”
Eric smiled, nodded and skipped off to the back room again. He was such a happy child.
Per asked incredulously, “A test? They let that little moron write tests? What´s the point of that? What a waste of taxpayer´s money. He´s going to be stacking shelves at the ICA for the rest of his life, which won´tbe long anyway. Even I remember the doctors saying that he could drop dead any time.”
Gunhild felt a painful stab in her heart, but only sighed and said, “He is your son, too, you know. And he is not an idiot, he is merely mentally retarded. And please refrain from calling him names when he is present or you and I will never speak again.”
Per who gave a short, loud bark “That moron is no son of mine, he is another man´s son. You fucked another man while you were married to me and he gave you that sick boy. Well serves you right! Serves you right to be lumbered with that pathetic creature. He is no son of mine, I would never have produced something like that.”
Gunhild quietly counted to a hundred, a tactic she had applied many times when she had still been married to the nasty piece of work in front of her. There was no point in arguing with him, he would only get more agitated and aggressive.
”We are not married anymore, Per and I don´t have to listen to your groundless irrational accusations anymore. Now please leave.”
“Oh well, aren´t we the clever one today? Don´t worry I´m leaving, I have more important things to do. If you won´t give me Ingrid´s address, I´ll just go to her place of work and wait for her. I know where she works, you know, I know that much.”
And he left banging the door loudly behind him. Gunhild went to fetch her mobile. She had to warn Ingrid that her father was on his way to see her.
After she had talked to Ingrid she joined Eric in the backroom and sat across from him at the little table. Eric was concentrating on his homework, tightly gripping the pen in his hand, his tongue protruding a little from his mouth, because he was trying very hard to get the letters right.
Gunhild´s mind flashed back to the day eight years ago, when she had left Per Nielson for good.
Chapter 11
Eric had been only three then. The scene had been a similar one. Eric had been sitting at the kitchen table, scribbling on a pad of paper with some extra thick crayons Gunhild had bought him. Gunhild had been standing by the stove preparing dinner. The mechanical milker had broken down a couple of times that week and Per was still out trying to get the machine to operate again. Gunhild prayed that he wouldn´t be in a terrible mood when he came home. But her payers had not been answered.
The first thing he did when he came in was to get a beer from the fridge. He leaned back against the kitchen counter so he was facing her. Then he poked her in the side not too gently and gave a short nod in the direction of Eric.
“What´s he doing here at my table in my kitchen? I told you I don´t want him around here.”
Gunhild didn´t answer. Sometimes he let her be when she just stayed quiet and didn´t react. But not that time.
Per poked her in the side again, this time a little harder.
“I said, what is that little bastard doing here in my kitchen? And look at me when I´m talking to you.” He gripped her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him.
Gunhild turned her head away and quietly said, “He lives here Per. Where else shall I keep him?”
Per gave a malicious laugh and said, “Do you think I care? How about the barn, that would be a good place for him.”
“Per, he´s only a little boy and he´s not bothering you,” Gunhild said again in a docile voice.
Per poked her in the side again, this time even harder.
“What did you say? What? He´s