Silver Tears(15)

“Fucking whore,” he shouted.

I stammered an apology, shocked at his words.

It was at the same time that he stopped being bullied. He had started hanging out with two boys who were a bit older than him—two of the popular kids. Tomas and Roger.

Tomas always caught my eye when we saw each other at school. There was something engaging about him, something brittle yet charming, that always made me slow down a little when I met him in the corridor. Part of me hoped he’d come home with Sebastian. Part of me hoped he wouldn’t.

I switched off the main light, my bed becoming a small island of light in all the darkness. Since I’d finished the Agatha Christie novel while waiting for dinner and hadn’t been to the library to borrow anything new, I picked out The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. It was one of the books I would never get rid of, and that I was reading for what must have been at least the tenth time.

My eyes were gritty with tiredness, but I had a lot to forget, so I read to avoid a confrontation with my thoughts. The more tired I was, the quicker I fell asleep and the less time I spent lying there awake.

It must have been just before midnight when a door suddenly opened. I expected to hear the creaking of the stairs as someone crept down to the toilet. But they didn’t. Instead, my bedroom door glided open. To begin with, I was happy, because I thought this meant Sebastian and I were finally going to start talking to each other. I had missed him so much lately.





The Cadier Bar was half full. Tourists and businessmen were scattered across the sofas, holding drinks in their hands. Swift-footed waiters dashed back and forth. Faye pushed away the plate that had been picked clean and a waiter speedily appeared and asked whether she wanted anything else. Faye shook her head, leaned back, and looked at the illuminated royal palace across the water. A group of Americans in the party next to her were put out by the Swedes’ idea of what a palace was and were talking loudly about their disappointment. According to them, the palace looked more like a prison. She guessed that all the Disney castles had given them unreasonable expectations.

She was completely shattered after an intense day. First Skavlan, then several conversations with shareholders—some by phone, some face-to-face. But it had gone well. Her assessment was that she’d gotten her message across—they had to keep their shares—without creating any suspicion. She and Kerstin had come up with a strategy that seemed to work, hinting that there were big things on the horizon due to the American expansion and that it would be wise to hang on to their holdings.

A voice that was getting increasingly loud made her turn around. A table or two away from her there was a man in his fifties sitting opposite a woman in her twenties. They might have been father and daughter, but it slowly dawned on Faye that it was a job interview. The young woman was trying to keep the conversation professional and present her work-related skills. The man was countering by asking her in an increasingly inebriated way whether she had a boyfriend and whether she liked to party, harping on about how she should have a drink and “relax.”



Faye shook her head. She felt the rage growing inside her.

“Are you sure you don’t want a G&T?” the man asked. “Or maybe you prefer sweet drinks? Perhaps you’d like one of those mojitos?”

The young woman sighed.

“No thanks, I’m fine,” she said.

Faye felt sorry for her. It was clear that the man, who judging by the discussion owned a public relations company, was distracted by thoughts of something other than a potential new hire.

Faye got up and carried her wineglass across to their table. The man had been in the middle of a monologue about his boat and had just invited the woman to it. He fell silent.

“I couldn’t help overhearing the fascinating account of how you built your company. Well done.”

It was obvious that he recognized Faye. He licked his lips and nodded.

“Hard work pays off,” he said.

“What’s your name?”

Faye reached out with her hand.

“Patrik Ullman.”

“Faye. Faye Adelheim.”

She smiled at him.

“But there’s one thing that’s bothering me, Patrik. So I’ll just come out and ask it: Do you hold all your job interviews in hotel bars at this time of night, or only when they’re with young women?”

Patrik Ullman opened his mouth and then shut it again. He reminded her of a perch gasping for air on a sun-warmed jetty.

“Because it doesn’t feel like a sensible way to find out about a person’s skills—filling her up with alcohol and asking her about boyfriends and then in the next breath inviting her to your boat. But then, what do I know?”



The young woman’s lips twitched. Patrik Ullman’s face grew even redder. A whimper began a long way down in his throat, but Faye beat him to it.

“What was it you had again? A Galeon 560? Sweetheart…I wouldn’t even go out fishing in a plastic tub like that.”

The woman could no longer contain a laugh.

“You fucking wh—”

Faye raised a finger in the air and leaned forward so that their noses were almost grazing each other.

“You what?” she said in a low voice. “What was it you were going to say, Patrik?”

The man pursed his lips. Faye straightened her back.