Buried Angels Read Online Free PDF Page B

along the pontoon dock. He could hear music and laughter coming from inside the vessels, and he was surveying the lively scene as he squinted into the sunlight.
    ‘It’s too bad that debate is at such a low level in Sweden today.’ John raised his wine glass and took a sip of the nicely chilled rosé. ‘People pay lip service to democracy and say that everyone has the right to be heard, but we’re not allowed to express our views. It’s as if we don’t exist. What everybody forgets is that we were elected by the people. A sufficient number of Swedes showed that they harbour a deep mistrust of the way things are being handled. They want change, and we’ve promised them that change.’
    He set his glass down and went back to peeling shrimp. A big plate of unpeeled shrimp was still awaiting his attention.
    ‘I know. It’s terrible,’ said his father-in-law, reaching for the bowl of shrimp and grabbing a handful. ‘If this is truly a democracy, we need to listen to the people.’
    ‘And everybody knows that lots of immigrants come here purely to take advantage of the social benefits,’ interjected his mother-in-law. ‘It would be fine if all these foreigners were prepared to work and contribute to society. But I have no desire to see my tax money used to support those parasites.’ She had already begun to slur her words.
    John sighed. What idiots. They had no idea what they were talking about. It was the same with most voters: they were nothing but sheep, oversimplifying the problem, unable to see the big picture. His in-laws personified the ignorance that he loathed, and here he sat, stuck with them for a whole week.
    Liv stroked his thigh in an attempt to calm him. She knew what he thought about them, and she mostly agreed. But Barbro and Kent were still her parents, and there wasn’t much she could do about that.
    ‘The worst part is the way they’re moving into all areas these days,’ said Barbro. ‘A family just moved into our neighbourhood, and the mother is Swedish, but the father is an Arab. I can’t begin to imagine how awful it must be for that poor woman, the way Arabs treat their wives. And I’m sure the children will be bullied in school. Then they’ll get in trouble with the police, and she’ll end up regretting that she didn’t marry a Swedish boy instead.’
    ‘You can say that again,’ said Kent, attempting to take a bite of a huge shrimp sandwich.
    ‘Can’t you let John have a rest from politics for a while?’ said Liv, her tone mildly reproachful. ‘He spends enough time discussing the immigrant issue in Stockholm, day in and day out. He deserves a break when he’s over here.’
    John gave her a grateful look as he paused to admire his wife. She was perfect. Silky blonde hair swept back from her face. Classic features and clear blue eyes.
    ‘Sorry, sweetheart. We weren’t thinking. We’re just so proud of what John is doing, and the position that he has achieved. All right, let’s talk about something else. How’s it going with your little business, by the way?’
    Liv eagerly began recounting all the difficulties she’d been having with the customs department, which seemed determined to complicate her business affairs. She was constantly dealing with setbacks to deliveries of the home furnishings that she imported from France and then sold through her online shop. But John knew that her interest in the shop had been dwindling. She was devoting more and more time to party politics. Everything else seemed unimportant in comparison.
    The seagulls were hovering lower over the dock, and he stood up.
    ‘I suggest we clear things away. Those birds are getting a little too close for comfort.’ He picked up his plate, walked out to the end of the dock, and tossed the shrimp peelings into the sea. The gulls swooped down to catch as many as possible. The crabs would take care of the rest.
    He stood there for a moment and took a deep breath as he stared at the horizon. As usual, his