The Dangerous Game Read Online Free PDF Page B

something they ever discuss in here. The patients are weighed once a week but aren’t told the results. The last time she checked her weight back home in Visby, the scale showed ninety-five pounds. Since she is five foot nine, that meant her BMI was fourteen. She doesn’t think that sounds dangerous. There are plenty of girls who are much thinner. ‘Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three.’ No one has knocked on the door yet, but she knows there’s a great risk that soon she’ll be interrupted. She closes her eyes for a moment, as if that might make it harder for anyone to discover what she’s doing. She makes a great effort to quiet her breathing so she won’t be heard. She’s starting to feel dizzy, and her heart is pounding in her fragile chest. ‘Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine.’ She has reached her goal of thirty, so she sinks on to the toilet. Leans back, shuts her eyes. Waits until her racing pulse calms down. When she has recovered sufficiently she gets up and splashes cold water on her face. She takes off her nightgown and rinses her armpits. She won’t have time for a shower. She usually does take a shower in the evening before going to bed. That gives her the chance to do her last exercises for the day. When she finally opens the bathroom door, she breathes a sigh of relief. Now she’ll be able to handle breakfast.

DINNER WAS SERVED in the dining room, which had been furnished in a discriminating modern style that matched the rest of the hotel.
    Filled with anticipation, they all took their places, hungry after the long day’s work. Jenny looked at the others seated around the table. Hugo had turned out to be a steady rock. Always on hand to offer assistance, from safety pins to fabric glue to accessories that suddenly seemed essential because the light was coming in at an unexpected angle and required something other than what had been planned. He was the consummate professional and always understood precisely what Markus meant when he talked about the fold in a garment, a polo-neck, or the heel of a boot. At the same time, he had his own self-assured view of things. If, on occasion, he disagreed with Markus, Hugo would persist in arguing until he got his way.
    He had straggly hair that stuck out all over, and he wore glasses with heavy black frames. He chose elegant clothes, displaying an infallible sense of style that was striking without being garish. And he was always so upbeat, which rubbed off on the others. He had told Jenny that he’d recently become engaged to his boyfriend, whom he’d known for only a few months. Maybe that was the reason for his good humour.
    When everyone had a glass of wine, Hugo gave a toast to celebrate the excellent work they’d done that day. Sebastian Bigert, who was the art director, and Anna Neumann, the producer, raised their glasses and smiled. They seemed nice, although Jenny hadn’t talked to them much. Kevin Sundström, the photographer’s assistant, was a young guy on his first photo shoot outside the studio. For that reason he was a bit confused and over-eager, but a real charmer who looked after her needs. He was constantly running off to get Jenny coffee and water. He was always asking her if she wanted anything else, his eyes flirting with her from under the black fringe of his hair. Jenny had met Maria Åkerlund eight days ago during Stockholm Fashion Week, when Maria had done her make-up several times. She had a confident and steady air about her, even though she wasn’t very old. Twenty-five at most, Jenny guessed.
    Everyone was sitting at the dinner table, except Markus, but they weren’t going to wait for him. He was usually late. The three-course meal consisted of new beets with a locally produced goat’s cheese, grilled turbot with potato purée, and chocolate trifle for dessert.
    Jenny ate everything with good appetite. Hugo raised his eyebrows when he saw her empty plate.
    ‘That’s the way she is,’ Maria explained. ‘She can