Chapter 2
The glare of the spotlights was merciless, and Didrik Holgersson had to make a real effort not to squint at the cameras and the audience. He couldn’t see the people in the studio because of the bright lights. Still, the thought of all those faces turned toward him made his skin crawl.
“Welcome back to The Experts.” The show’s host, Madeleine H?gg, was one of Sweden’s finest, in Didrik’s opinion, and her tone was warm.
“For new viewers, let me introduce our program’s historian, Didrik Holgersson.
” Madeleine then introduced the other members of the panel and the week’s special guest, a former minister of education.
The day’s topic was education. Madeleine turned to the minister.
Didrik exhaled, then drew in as much oxygen as he possibly could.
Why was his bow tie so tight? It was almost choking him, and he thought he could feel his tweed jacket chafing him through his shirt.
The minister had finished talking, and Madeleine turned to Didrik.
He bought himself a few seconds by taking a sip of water, tried to focus his senses—make eye contact with Madeleine, listen to the question, push aside all thoughts of Lovisa.
He concentrated on his breathing. He couldn’t have a panic attack in front of the audience.
“So what’s your view, Didrik? To what extent do schools play a greater role in society today than in the past?”
Didrik formulated the response in his head, thinking about history and all the parallels he could draw to make the studio audience and the viewers think the matter through.
Then he said something off the cuff that generated laughter in the studio—delivering clever answers that made history easy to understand was his forte.
Slowly he let out a long breath. He loved his job, and recording shows like this was part of that enjoyment.
His mind wandered to what had happened. Lovisa, his wife, had said that she was leaving him.
Was it his work that had led to this decision on her part?
Surely he hadn’t been away that much—no more than Lovisa.
She was the one who’d had her hands full recently, with that prestigious international study.
Applause rang out, and Didrik was brought back to the moment. Madeleine wrapped up the show and thanked the participants. Didrik stood up and quickly wiped his palm on his pants before shaking hands with the other panelists.
Lovisa’s words echoed inside his head. He broke out into a cold sweat. He had to get out of here. His shirt was beginning to feel damp beneath the thick tweed jacket.
He gave the production team a quick wave and prepared to sneak out—he didn’t need to stay around for polite chitchat. He was turning to leave when he heard Madeleine’s voice behind him. “Didrik, do you have a moment?”
He stopped, turned back.
“I wanted to talk to you about the new idea we ran by you—I believe you received the outline? I thought it sounded really exciting. You were going to get back to us?”
“Oh yes, I was . . . Yes . . . absolutely.” He looked around. He had no memory of what he had promised to do.
Madeleine was still looking inquiringly at him.
“Like I said, I’ll get back to you. Thanks for a great show.” Once again he turned away.
His bow tie felt like a snare, was it tighter than usual?
Or had his neck swollen? He thought he was going to be strangled at any second.
He hurried out into the corridor, finally escaping from the stuffy studio, and tried to get some oxygen into his lungs, but it was hot here too.
Jesus, had they cranked up the heating in the entire TV24 building?
Didn’t they know that the price of electricity had gone through the roof?
This isn’t working anymore. That was what Lovisa had said, and she had meant it.
Those words had come as a shock to him on Sunday evening.
Sure, in the days leading up to it—weeks, now that he thought about it—she had been evasive, but he knew she had a lot to do at work, and had assumed that was all it was.
There were periods when they were both incredibly busy, and they sometimes fell into bad habits, not paying each other enough attention.
Lovisa had been sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea. He’d registered the absent look on her face, and she hadn’t even glanced up when he came in. As usual, he’d suggested one of those crime shows they both liked.
“I’m going to get ready for bed.” She had stood up.
“Is something wrong?” he’d asked.
She’d taken a deep breath. “This isn’t working anymore.”
“Have you been talking to my mom again?” Didrik had sighed. “I know you both think I’m doing too many recordings, but I’ve got a break coming up in a few weeks.”
Didrik’s mother and Lovisa were touchingly in agreement on many things, most of all the fact that his TV work was a terrible idea. It took up a lot of time, and as a result his academic career suffered. Nothing was really happening on that front at the moment, which annoyed them both.
When Lovisa didn’t say anything, Didrik went on: “I know I’ve been out for a lot of evenings, but things are calming down now; we’ll finish recording The Experts in a couple of weeks.
And I’ve arranged a meeting with one of the professors at the university to discuss jumping in as a guest lecturer.
You remember we talked about that, he’s the one who wrote . . .”
“I don’t mean that. I mean this.” She’d waved her hand in the air between them.
“What? You mean . . . ?” He still didn’t understand.
“Us. I mean us.” She raised her voice, which she never did, as if there were a problem with his hearing, when in fact the problem lay with her lack of clarity. Because he still didn’t get it. What was she trying to say?
“I don’t think it’s working. I don’t feel as if . . . I don’t want this.”
“What don’t you want? We’re married!”
“I don’t want to be married to you anymore.” Her shoulders appeared slumped, as if she had been carrying a heavy burden.
“But . . . I love you,” he said feebly, hearing how pathetic he sounded. “Where has this come from?” He still couldn’t take in what she had just said. “Don’t you love me anymore? Or . . . I don’t understand.”
Lovisa said nothing. She simply shook her head. It was impossible for Didrik to work out whether she was confirming that she no longer loved him, or if it was a sign of resignation. But he could see it in her eyes.
“Can’t we talk about this? What is it you think isn’t working?”
Lovisa sank back down onto the sofa. “You and me. We . . . I don’t know. We don’t have anything in common anymore.”
“But we’re . . .” Didrik sat down beside her. “Children. We’re trying for a baby.”
Lovisa gazed at him in silence.
“For God’s sake, I love you! How can you throw this in my face?” He was the one who raised his voice now. Lovisa looked shocked; they didn’t behave like this. Until now, their marriage had always maintained a calm, low-key equilibrium that was based on mutual respect.
“I’m moving out tomorrow.” She stood up again and headed for the bedroom.
Moving out? Where to? How long for? For good?
“I need to think,” she added.
No problem, he could give her time to think. Give her a few days to sort out her thoughts. Of course he could.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” she called from the bedroom.
“No, I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Didrik said wearily.
The following morning had been dreadful.
Lovisa didn’t want to talk; she was distant and silent as she picked up her suitcase and slammed the door when she set off for work.
Didrik had somehow made his way to his office at G?rdet to prepare for the TV show.
Lovisa hadn’t been in touch all day, and by Tuesday morning he couldn’t bear it any longer. He had to know.
When are you coming back?
He closed his eyes. A message with absolutely no dignity. The reply had pinged back almost immediately:
I need time.
Didrik hurried along the corridor, greeting those he passed but avoiding meeting anyone’s eye. He needed to get to the changing room, and fast.
“Didrik. Hi.”
Shit. It was one of the directors from the morning show, a guy Didrik had lunch with occasionally. Under normal circumstances, he didn’t mind chatting to him at all.
“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you—I wanted to get your input about . . .”
“Yes, absolutely, give me a call tomorrow when I’m in the office.
” Didrik forced a smile and kept walking.
His phone vibrated—was it Lovisa? Was she ready to see him?
Perhaps she would tell him that it had all been a mistake, she’d changed her mind, she didn’t know what had come over her, these things happen.
Their relationship was definitely working.
They were fine. They loved each other, after all.
How could she think anything else?
Thirteen years. They had been a couple for thirteen years, married for eight. They had been trying to have a baby for six years. He had believed their efforts and failures had brought them closer together. What had he missed?
He practically ran along the corridor to the dressing room, then opened the door, sank down on the bench, loosened his bow tie, and took it off.
Undid a few shirt buttons. Shrugged off his jacket and took a deep breath.
With shaking hands, he grabbed a bottle of sparkling water from the table, unscrewed the cap, and knocked it back so fast that the bubbles went up his nose, making him snort and cough.
He put it down and took another deep breath.
When he checked his phone, his shoulders slumped. It was only a message from Elnaz, the features editor from the production company that was working on new program ideas. She wanted to confirm that they were meeting for drinks this evening.
In a way he was relieved not to have news to face, but then his phone vibrated again.
Lovisa. The name flashed on the screen.
He didn’t dare open the message.
What if she really had changed her mind about being married? Or maybe the message was about something practical, a reminder to take out the trash. He exhaled and clicked.
And there it was. No room for doubt.
Four words that smashed everything within him to pieces.
I want a divorce.