‘I’m trying to get the stories out of them, help them. You aren’t listening to me.’
‘It sounds to me like you’re stealing something.’
‘I’m not stealing anything. But one of the girls is a pickpocket.’
‘You’re still stealing their stories. But that’s not what we were talking about. I can’t wait for you to make up your mind. Not for ever.’
‘Can’t you give me a month?’
‘I want us to settle this now.’
‘I can’t.’
Andrea got up from the kitchen table.
‘Then as far as I’m concerned our relationship looks like it’s ending.’
‘Do you always have to be so dramatic? Every time we have a serious talk it’s as if I’ve been thrown into a play where I haven’t even picked my own part.’
‘I am not particularly dramatic. In contrast to you I simply say what’s on my mind.’
‘So do I.’
Andrea looked down at him.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve ever really said what you think. I don’t think there’s room for anyone in your head except yourself.’
She left the kitchen and slammed the door. In her anger and disappointment she also turned off the light. Humlin was left in the dark. He pushed aside all thoughts of Andrea and the child she wanted to have and wondered what Tea-Bag was doing right now. He tried to imagine ten thousand people hidden in church cellars and the like, but without success. He lay down on the couch in the study where Tea-Bag’s sheets were still bundled. It was as if everything inside him had stopped. Thoughts of Lundin kept him from sleeping.
The following day Andrea called him with an ultimatum.
‘One month,’ she said. ‘Not a day more. Then we have to decide if we have a future together or not.’
The rest of the morning he walked around the apartment and worried about what was going to happen. Later in the afternoon he went out to buy the evening papers.
Tea-Bag was sitting in the stairwell when he opened the door. He frowned at her.
‘Why don’t you ring the doorbell?’ he asked. ‘I don’t want the neighbours to see you. They will start to wonder.’
Tea-Bag walked straight to the kitchen and sat down in her thick coat. She shook her head when he asked her if she wanted some coffee.
‘If you ask me anything I’m leaving,’ she said.
‘I’m not going to ask you anything.’
‘When are you going back to Gothenburg?’
‘I haven’t decided yet.’
Tea-Bag was restless and clearly worried. She stood up and Humlin thought she was going to take off.
‘Where can I find you?’ he asked.
‘You can’t.’
She hesitated. Humlin sensed that he could use the moment to ask her one of the most pressing questions he had.
‘You tell me I’m not allowed to ask you anything,’ he said. ‘But I’m not sure that’s completely true. Maybe you actually want me to ask you questions. There is one thing I’d like to know. And after all you have spent the night here. You and I were on our way to Gothenburg when you left the train. You had been telling me about how you came to Sweden. You told my girlfriend a slightly different story. But they are probably connected somehow. I know this is hard for you.’
She flinched as if he had hit her.
‘It’s not hard,’ she said.
Humlin took a few steps back.
‘But things haven’t been easy for you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It can’t be easy living under a church.’
Her smile died away.
‘You know nothing about me.’
‘You’re right.’
‘Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m not a victim. I hate pity.’
Tea-Bag took off her thick coat and laid it on the ground. Her movements were very slow.
‘I have a brother,’ she said. ‘I had a brother.’
‘Is he dead?’
‘I don’t know.’
Humlin waited. Then the words started coming, finding their way with care, as if the story she had to tell could only be told slowly and with the utmost care.
