They sat down in the living room because Tanya felt it was the safest room in the apartment and the place they were least likely to be overheard. They had to speak with low voices, leaning towards each other, as if they were conspiring together. Humlin decided he should probably start by saying a few words about the chaos that had erupted at their first meeting.
‘Naturally, I should never have touched that girl’s cheek. But it was an innocent mistake. I like to touch people.’
Leyla looked closely at him.
‘You’ve never tried to touch me,’ she said.
‘It’s a spontaneous impulse.’
‘I think you’re lying. I think you think I’m too fat.’
‘I don’t think you’re too fat.’
Tanya shifted uncomfortably on her chair. Leyla had a defiant look.
‘Let’s see,’ he said. ‘I’m not quite sure how we should begin today.’
‘Shouldn’t you ask us about what we’ve written?’ Leyla asked.
She was starting to irritate him. She really was quite obese.
‘Of course we’ll get to that. But first I want to know why you all wrote that you wanted to be talk-show hosts.’
‘I didn’t,’ Tanya said.
‘No, you didn’t. And why didn’t you write that? Don’t you want to be a talk-show host?’
‘Of course I do. I want to host a show that is about confronting men.’
‘Explain that to me.’
‘The programme would be a forum for women to revenge themselves on the men in their lives.’
‘I’ve never heard of a show like that,’ Humlin said.
‘It’s an original concept.’
Humlin didn’t say anything. He looked over at Leyla.
‘I want my show to be nice,’ she said.
‘And how is that?’
‘Guests would be able to just sit there, if they felt like it. They wouldn’t have to talk all the time, just have a nice time. There’s always so much conflict on TV.’
Humlin tried to imagine a show where the guests were quiet and intent on relaxing, but couldn’t. He asked them to show him what they had written.
First he read aloud what Leyla had written. Her handwriting was childishly neat and round.
‘A good start,’ Humlin said. ‘You should develop this a little further for our next meeting.’
Tanya gave him a small packet.
‘I don’t want you to open it now,’ she said.
‘What are you giving him presents for?’ Leyla asked angrily, grabbing the package.
‘It’s not a present. It’s what I wrote.’
Leyla took it back. Humlin was worried they were going to start fighting. He raised his arms and tried to calm them.
‘I will bring both texts home with me and read them carefully. Next time we’ll talk about what you wrote, Tanya. I promise not to show it to anyone.’
They decided to meet the following week. Leyla promised to speak to Törnblom and explain that the writing seminar was going to continue as if the delay with the train and the resulting disaster had never happened. Humlin promised to be punctual.
‘Törnblom may not believe you,’ he said. ‘It may be hard to convince him.’
‘Everyone believes me,’ Leyla said. ‘I look harmless.’
‘I have to go now,’ Humlin said. ‘But I also wanted to give you a moment before I left to ask me about my own work, if there’s anything you want to know.’
‘I tried to read one of your books,’ Leyla said. ‘But I didn’t understand a thing. I hate feeling stupid. When do we get to meet someone who writes for a soap opera?’
Humlin was starting to get used to the rapid changes of subject matter.
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘What does that mean exactly?’
