The Strangler's Honeymoon by Håkan Nesser Read Free Book Online

relationship with her schoolmates was sufficiently poor for it to merit a meeting, anybody could see that. As long as she was able to describe it convincingly.
    When she had come that far, she had decided to take matters a step further.
    A change of school. It was a good idea to have a specific proposal to make. She intended to explain to this washed-out fifty-year-old woman – who called herself a welfare officer, but hadn’t made a very convincing impression when she was introduced to the pupils at a special assembly in the hall soon after her appointment – to explain certain carefully selected parts of her situation as comprehensively as possible, and make her understand that a school transfer was the only plausible solution for a pupil with Monica Kammerle’s problem profile.
    As it was called. She had been there before.
    The Joannis Grammar School out at Löhr, for instance.
    As far as she had been able to discover there were eleven grammar schools in the Maardam area, and if there was one which might be able to give her the opportunity of a new start, it must surely be Joannis. If there was a school where she stood a chance of being completely unknown to her new unprejudiced schoolmates, this was the one. No pupil from Deijkstraa had ever attended a school in Löhr – one lunchtime she had checked through all local school record books for the last four years in the library, where they were kept in large black files. Yes, she felt confident that she would be able to convince the welfare officer that taking this step would be reasonable and necessary. The business of bus passes and choice of subjects and other practical and technical details – well, if she really was a welfare officer she should be able to sort out such matters.
    Monica laughed when she thought about this and her own sudden ability to act positively. Perhaps it was the young priest who had inspired her to such decisiveness, despite everything; but something had also happened after that latest embrace with Benjamin. Just happened, apparently of its own accord.
    Embrace? She didn’t really know what to call it, but after having come to terms with the feelings of disgust and the almost shocking re-evaluation of their relationship, some sort of inner strength seemed to have germinated inside her. She had noticed it even before she went to confession for the first time: obviously it was far from certain that it would last – she had been through periods of depression before, and there were those who maintained that manic depression was a hereditary illness. But why not take this opportunity of doing something positive if she was on a high for once?
    Why not, indeed? She looked at the clock and established that the welfare officer was running ten minutes late. Or that her current client was going on at length. The little lamp over her door shone red and insistently. In a way Monica felt comforted to discover that there seemed to be other pupils with problems. That she wasn’t the only one. That there was evidently some other confused and lonely teenager in there, who didn’t know what he should do next. Or she.
    Or was the old witch just sitting there, gossiping on the phone and drinking coffee?
    Monica sighed, sat up straight and began thinking about Benjamin Kerran instead.
    Nine days had passed, and he hadn’t been in touch.
    She couldn’t make up her mind if this surprised her or not. She didn’t know if her mother had been seeing him: in any case, they hadn’t been seen together at home in Moerckstraat, she was quite sure of that.
    But she had been talking about him, she certainly had. In a way and in such words that Monica suspected her mother was becoming rather dependent on him. On having a relationship with him. And that she probably hoped it would develop into something more serious.
    There wasn’t much doubt about it – her mother was not the type to hide her feelings and her thoughts. Not from her daughter. And she never bothered