As soon as she left he went into the bedroom and started looking through her papers and diaries. He found a draft of something that described one of their early encounters. He sat down in the living room and read it through thoroughly. His anxiety returned. It was good, unnervingly good, actually. He put the piece of paper down with a grimace. His first thought was to end the relationship immediately, or at least threaten to. But he wasn’t sure where that would lead.
According to his usual habit he then proceeded to read her diary. She had an old-fashioned model, the kind that teenage girls used, with a small heart-shaped lock. He knew how to pick the lock with a hairpin and he eyed the entries she had made since last time. He was indifferent to most of it since it was mainly about work-related matters. But he studied the few passages about marriage and children very carefully, poring over her jerky handwriting. A couple of the sentences caught his eye.
After the assault on her diary he started to feel better. He poured himself a glass of grappa in the kitchen, then lay down on the sofa with one of her fashion magazines that he read in secret.
Humlin, exhausted after his evening with Andrea, had just gone to bed when his mother called.
‘I thought you were coming over,’ she said.
‘I’ve just gone to bed. I was tired. If you like, I can come over tomorrow.’
‘Is Andrea there?’
‘She’s working.’
‘So should you be. It’s only half past eleven. I’ve set out a little supper for us. I went to a delicatessen just for your sake.’
Humlin put his clothes back on, ordered a taxi and noticed, as he looked in the hall mirror, that his South Pacific suntan was already fading. His taxi driver was a woman who couldn’t find her way at all in the inner city.
‘I’m a third-generation Stockholmer,’ she announced cheerfully after she had made a large detour to get to the one-way street his mother lived on. ‘I’m born and bred in this city but bless my soul if I can’t find my way to save my life.’
She also had no change, as it turned out, nor could she accept credit cards. In the end she took down his bank information and promised to send him the change.
Märta Humlin had bought oysters for supper. Humlin hated oysters.
‘Why did you buy oysters?’
‘I like to give my son the best. Isn’t this good enough for you?’
‘You know I’ve never liked oysters.’
‘I’ve never heard any such thing.’
He realised the futility of continuing the conversation. Instead he told her about the idea he had had in Gothenburg. At times his mother had been able to give him valuable feedback.
‘That sounds like a marvellous idea,’ she said when he finished.
His surprise was genuine.
‘Do you really think so?’
‘You know I always say what I think.’
‘I see. Then how come everyone else I’ve talked to has been against it?’
‘It doesn’t matter. You should listen to me, and I’m telling you to go ahead and write about this girl from India. It will be very romantic, very moving. Is it a love story?’
‘She’s from Iran, not India. I was thinking more of something along the lines of a socio-realist novel.’
‘A love story is better. I think you should write something thrilling about a Swedish author and a beautiful woman from a foreign land.’
‘She’s fat and ugly, mother. And anyway, I can’t write love stories.’
Märta Humlin fixed her eyes on him intently.
‘I thought the whole idea was to break away and try something new.’
‘I want to write about something real. The way things are,’ he said.
‘Tell me how they are. And why aren’t you eating your oysters?’
‘I’m full. I want to write about how hard it is to come to a new land and try to set down new roots.’
‘And who in God’s name would want to read about a fat girl with a headscarf who lives in the suburbs?’
‘Quite a few, actually.’
‘If you follow my advice you’ll do fine. Otherwise I would leave it. You know nothing of what it’s like to come to a foreign country. And why aren’t you and Andrea having babies?’
‘We’re talking about it.’
‘Andrea says you rarely make love these days.’
Humlin dropped the little fork that he had been using to skewer the oysters he was only pretending to eat.
‘You and Andrea talk about things like that?’
‘We have an open, trusting relationship.’
Humlin was shocked. Andrea had often said how overbearing and self-centred she found his mother. Now it turned out she had a completely different relationship to this woman in front of him who forced him to eat food he didn’t like.
‘I am never coming back here again if you and Andrea keep talking like this behind my back.’
‘We simply want what’s best for you.’
