The Shadow Girls

‘Everyone misses me. Not you. But everyone else. If the only reason you came out here was to tell me that, you can leave. I want to be left alone.’

‘Someone’s in a bad mood, I can tell.’

‘I’m just being honest with you, for once.’

‘So are you planning to stay here and sulk?’

‘I’m not sulking, I’m thinking. I’ve made an important decision. Go on, go back to them. I’ll be out shortly.’

His mother looked anxious and started whispering.

‘You haven’t told any of the girls out there what I do in order to try to secure your inheritance, have you?’

‘Not a word.’

The front doorbell rang.

‘Who could that be?’

Humlin got up.

‘I think I have an idea.’

‘Jesper, I don’t like you inviting people over without talking to me about it first.’

‘I haven’t invited anyone over, Mother. But Tea-Bag, Tanya and Leyla are about to meet some people who are much more able to help them than we can.’

Humlin went to open the door. The reporters had started arriving. One of them set off a flash in his mother’s face.

‘Reporters, Jesper? Why did you let them in?’

‘It’s the best thing we can do.’

‘What about the diplomatic immunity I was supposed to offer them? I thought the girls were refugees?’

‘You’ve had too much wine, Mother. You don’t understand what’s happening.’

‘I know enough not to let reporters into my home.’

Despite her resistance Humlin ushered the reporters into the dining room. Before he had a chance to say anything and explain the situation, Leyla got up and started screaming.

‘I can’t be in the papers! If my parents see this they’ll kill me!’

‘Calm down, I’ll explain. Just listen.’

But no one listened. Tea-Bag pummelled him with her fists.

‘Why are they here? Why did you let them in?’

‘I’ll explain.’

Tea-Bag kept punching him.

‘Why are they taking pictures of us? Every policeman who’s been trying to deport us will see those pictures. What do you think will happen to Leyla who hasn’t told her parents yet about Torsten? Why are you doing this to us?’

‘Because it’s the only way. People have to know about this, about everything you’ve told me.’

Tea-Bag wasn’t listening, she just kept hitting him. In sheer desperation he finally slapped her. A camera flash went off. Tea-Bag’s eyes were full of tears.

‘I think this is the right thing to do,’ Humlin said.

But Tea-Bag cried. Tanya threw a plate of spaghetti at one of the reporters, then pulled Tea-Bag with her out into the hallway. Humlin followed them and closed the door behind him.

‘You can’t just disappear. I’m doing this for you. Where are you going? How will I get hold of you?’

‘You won’t!’ Tea-Bag screamed. ‘The seminar is over. We’ve learned everything we needed to learn.’

Tanya swore at him in Russian, perhaps it was closer to a curse. Then they were gone. He heard their footsteps in the stairwell and then the front door downstairs slammed. Leyla and Torsten came out into the hallway. Leyla was crying.

‘Where are the reporters?’

‘They’re talking to your mother. We’re leaving.’

‘Where will you go? There are no trains to Gothenburg at this time of night.’

Leyla grabbed him by the arms and shook him. But she didn’t say anything.

Humlin felt paralysed. It’s not my fault, he thought. They’re the ones who have misunderstood the situation. For once in my life I thought I was doing the right thing.

He sat down on a chair. One of the reporters came out into the hallway and smiled at him.

‘“Jesper Humlin: the poet whose eyes were opened.”’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You’ve never displayed much of a social conscience in your poetry until now.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘Of course it’s true. But don’t worry. I won’t write about this. It’s a good enough story on its own: “Illegal immigrants on the run. A poet and his old mother try to help them find their way.”’

The reporter tilted an imaginary hat and left. The others also left shortly afterwards. Humlin got up. Shards of china and spaghetti lay scattered on the dining-room rug. His mother stood in the doorway and looked at him. He spread his arms wide.

‘I know what you’re thinking. You don’t have to say it. But I meant well.’

She didn’t answer. He bent down and started picking at the smashed porcelain pieces among the spaghetti.

It was two o’clock in the morning by the time they were finished cleaning and washing up. They sat down in the living room and had a glass of wine each. Neither of them spoke. Humlin got up to leave and his mother followed him out. He was about to open the door when she grabbed his arm.

‘Will they be all right?’

‘I don’t know.’

He opened the door, but she didn’t let go.

‘What kind of animal was it she had, you know, that girl Tea-Bag?’

‘She doesn’t have any animals.’

‘That’s strange. I’m quite sure I saw something peeking out from behind her back.’

‘What did it look like?’

‘A big squirrel.’

Humlin reached out and stroked his mother’s cheek.

‘It’s just your imagination,’ he said. ‘That’s all.’

Humlin walked home through the city. From time to time he stopped and turned around, but there was no one to be seen in the shadows.