Tea-Bag finished her story and left the kitchen. When she didn’t return he walked out to see where she had gone. She was standing by a window looking down into the street. There were tears in her eyes.
‘What kind of crops were they, do you think?’
‘Chocolate. Cocoa.’
She got her jacket from the kitchen and left the apartment without another word. He watched her walking along the street. Suddenly he saw something that made him jump. He squinted to see better. There was something attached to her jacket. A backpack? But he was sure she had had no bag with her when she came. He trained his eyes on the object. But he refused to accept what he was seeing.
There was a little monkey on her back. A little monkey with brown-green fur.
Two days later they made the trip to Gothenburg for a second time. Humlin had no idea where Tea-Bag had been in the meantime. She had simply called him on a line full of static and asked him what time the train left. Like last time, she had simply appeared at the station. He had tried to convince her to continue telling her story but she had not cooperated, burrowing down into the thick jacket she wouldn’t take off. He had surreptitiously looked for claw marks on her back as they were getting on the train. There were some tears in the fabric, but it was impossible for him to verify if they were inflicted by a small monkey with brown-green fur. By the time they were passing Hallsberg, Tea-Bag was asleep. Humlin was forced to shake her when they finally pulled into the station in Gothenburg. When he touched her shoulder her arm automatically shot up and hit him in the face. The conductor, who happened to be nearby, stopped in his tracks.
‘What’s going on here? Is there a problem?’
‘Nothing. I was just trying to wake her up.’
The conductor gave him a sceptical look but continued on his way.
‘I don’t like it when people touch me,’ Tea-Bag said.
‘I was just trying to wake you up.’
‘I was already awake. I was just pretending to be asleep. I dream better that way.’
They took a cab to Stensgården. A boxing practice was still in session. Tea-Bag looked at the boys in the ring with frank fascination. Pelle Törnblom was standing by the ropes. He motioned for them to go to his office, but Tea-Bag didn’t move. Her eyes were trained on the exchange of blows. Törnblom blew on a whistle and the boys left the ring.
‘Tea-Bag,’ Törnblom said. ‘That’s a great name. Where is it you come from again? I’ve never really been sure about that.’
Humlin waited anxiously for the answer.
‘Nigeria.’
Humlin made a note of this answer.
‘I had a couple of boxers here from Nigeria. Just a couple of years ago,’ Törnblom said. ‘But then one of them disappeared. People around here claimed he had supernatural powers, that his father was some kind of magician. I don’t know about that. He sure didn’t have any powers that kept him from being knocked out in the ring. The other one met a Finnish girl and last I heard they were living in Helsinki.’
Tea-Bag pointed to a pair of gloves lying on a chair.
‘Can I try those?’
Törnblom nodded. He helped her on with the gloves then stood back as she started attacking a punchbag with surprising violence. Her thick jacket was still zipped up to her neck. Sweat started running down her face.
‘Not bad. She’s quick,’ Törnblom whispered to Humlin. ‘But I wonder who that punchbag is.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve learned a little bit about human psychology over the years. She’s hitting someone. A lot of the guys who come down here hit their dads or uncles or whoever it is that’s pissed them off. Three times a week they come down here and beat someone up. People in the shape of punchbags, that is.’
Tea-Bag stopped abruptly. Törnblom helped her off with the gloves and turned to Humlin.
‘The TV crew will be downstairs in the lecture room in about five minutes.’
Humlin wondered briefly if he should bring Tea-Bag with him or not. It seemed like the natural thing to do, but he decided he wanted to do the interview alone. A few moments alone in front of the camera might be just what his rather battered ego needed at this point.
‘Wait here,’ he said to Tea-Bag. ‘I’ll be back soon.’
Törnblom frowned.
‘She’s not coming with you?’
‘I think I had better handle this alone.’
‘But I thought this was about the girls? Why should you have the starring role?’
‘This is not about a starring role. This is about the way I’ve decided to handle things.’
Tea-Bag sat down on a stool. Humlin turned and walked down the stairs without giving Törnblom a chance to continue the conversation.
The TV crew were already there, setting up their equipment. There were three of them: a camera operator, sound engineer and reporter. All three were women. Very young women.
‘I take it you are waiting for me?’
‘Don’t think so. Where are the girls?’
Humlin was thrown off balance. The girl who had spoken to him had a foreign accent and did not hide her impatience.
