The Gilded Cage. Камилла Лэкберг

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      ‘How do you know Axel?’

      This from the other girl, Sara, nodding in his direction.

      ‘I met Viktor, if you know him, at Buddha Bar yesterday.’

      ‘Did you sleep here?’

      I nodded.

      They finished their cigarettes in silence before getting to their feet.

      ‘Julia used to go out with Viktor,’ Axel said once they had gone.

      ‘Used to?’

      ‘Until about three months ago, something like that. This is the first time they’ve met since she got home from Lund.’

      Julia and Sara came along to Buddha Bar. They stuck close to Viktor and kept glaring sullenly at me. The more alcohol I got inside me, the more irritated I became.

      Viktor took a break from his decks and came over to me and Axel. I put my arms round him as I met Julia’s narrowed eyes. He kissed me and I bit his bottom lip gently. When it was time for him to go back to the DJ’s booth he asked if I wanted to go with him. He led me through the crowd with his arm round my waist. It took a while because people kept stopping him to talk. We got there in the end. Viktor put his headphones on, adjusted some controls and started to sway in time to the music.

      I did the same. Then I took one of his hands, slipped it under my dress and put it between my legs. I wasn’t wearing any underpants.

      ‘Do you want to come back to mine tonight?’ he asked.

      ‘Yes. If you’d like me to?’

      He gave me an intense look that made any spoken answer unnecessary.

      ‘What are we going to do?’ I teased.

      Viktor laughed and changed track.

      It was a wonderful feeling. I was free. Free to do whatever I wanted. To be whoever I wanted. Without the past messing up everything around me, inside me. Without all the people who had been pulling me down. I was slowly turning myself into someone else, little by little.

      I looked out across the dancing throng, shut my eyes and thought about what life was like in Fjällbacka. All the curious glances that followed me wherever I went, the mixture of fascination and sympathy, sticky, heavy, suffocating. No one knew here. No one stared here. My place was here. In Stockholm.

      ‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ I yelled.

      ‘OK. I finish in ten minutes. Shall we meet up by the door?’

      I nodded and made my way to the lavatory. I stood in the queue, smiling to myself about the fact that Viktor belonged to me, no one else. The music from the dance-floor thudded in the distance, making the mirror on the wall vibrate.

      I looked at my reflection. My hair was blonder than usual, and I felt tanned and fresh. I thought I looked older than I had only a few weeks ago. By the basins a girl aimed a pink can of hairspray at her head. The sweet scent caught in my nose, a refreshing contrast to the smell of sweat, drink and smoky clothes.

      The door opened behind me and the music got briefly louder.

      I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned round. I caught sight of Julia before the drink came flying at me. An ice-cube hit me on the forehead, fell to the floor and bounced away. My eyes stung and I blinked hard with surprise and pain.

      ‘What the hell are you doing?’ I shouted, stepping back.

      ‘You little slut,’ Julia said before turning on her heel and stalking out.

      Some other girls laughed. I wiped myself with a paper towel. I felt the humiliation like insects crawling inside me. I felt like my old self again. The one who shrank away and hid in the shadows. The one who cowered under the weight of far too many secrets.

      Then I straightened up and looked at myself in the mirror. Never again.

      One week later I got a letter. I had been accepted to do an MBA at the Stockholm School of Economics. I got a copy of the letter, found out what Julia’s address was, bought an envelope, and put the copy of the letter inside with a Polaroid photograph Viktor had taken, of me on all fours and Viktor behind me, his face contorted with pleasure. When I dropped the envelope in Julia’s family’s letterbox I had only one thought in my head. I was never going to let anyone humiliate me again.

      One month later I registered at the School of Economics under my middle name, Faye, after the author of my mum’s favourite book. Matilda no longer existed.

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