Anne-Line Svendsen knitted her unkempt eyebrows. “You don’t seem to understand the seriousness of the situation, do you, Michelle?”
The woman turned her attention to Patrick. “You two do live together, so I assume, Patrick, that you’re aware that Michelle has been illegally claiming benefits for almost six months. That’s what we call fraud and it’s a serious matter. Have you thought about that?”
Patrick pulled his sleeves up. The swelling from his new tattoos still hadn’t gone down, which was probably why he seemed irritated.
“There must be a misunderstanding, because we don’t live together. Not really. Michelle has a room out in Vanl?se.”
This information certainly didn’t faze the caseworker. “I’ve spoken this morning with the family at Holmestien who rented out a room to Michelle. They inform me that Michelle hasn’t paid her rent for the past five months, so she lives with you, shall we agree on that? We’ll be deducting the benefits for the entire period from your wages, you must realize that, Patrick, and there will probably also be legal consequences. But presumably you’re aware of the new rules.”
Patrick slowly turned to direct a menacing look toward Michelle. There was something in his expression that she didn’t like the look of.
“But . . .” Michelle frowned, even though it didn’t look flattering. “We only came today to get permission to go on vacation. We’ve seen a really cheap last-minute deal leaving in two weeks, and Patrick can get the time off, so . . .” Michelle paused and bit her lip.
It was a mistake that she’d handed in the notice on the room. Or at least a mistake that she hadn’t told Patrick about it, and this wouldn’t be the last she’d hear of it; that was for sure. Up until now, Patrick had never laid a finger on her, which was one of the reasons she stayed with him, but just now it seemed like that situation might change.
“I see, but I don’t think that’s going to happen, Michelle. From Patrick’s expression, it seems to me that you might have forgotten to tell him about the room. Isn’t that right?” the hag continued.
Michelle nodded almost unnoticeably. Patrick suddenly stood up in front of the window, almost entirely blocking out the light. “There must be a mistake,” he protested with a frown. “I’ll drive out to see the family and find out why they’re saying this.”
He turned to face Michelle. What he said to her next wasn’t to be understood as a suggestion but an order; that much was clear.
“Stay here, Michelle. Your caseworker has offered you a job, so I think you should have a chat with her about it, okay?”
She pressed her lips together as he angrily slammed the door behind him. How mean of him to abandon her in this situation. If she had had any inkling that the woman would check up on her living situation like this, she would never have given up the room. What on earth was she supposed to do now? They couldn’t afford to lose that money, and especially not if there was going to be a fine on top of it.
If only Patrick could talk the family around, maybe she could rent the room again; they couldn’t have any objection to that. As long as the rent was less than her benefits, it would still leave something, even if eighteen hundred kroner in rent was money she wouldn’t have in her pocket.
She’d actually thought she could use that money on herself; that’s why she’d done it. Wasn’t Patrick happy with her appearance when she’d been to the hairdresser? Did he complain when she was wearing sexy new lingerie?
—
Ten minutes later, Michelle was sitting in the waiting room to compose herself and take in what had just happened. There would definitely be an investigation into the benefit fraud—the woman in the office had said as much—and they’d have to pay back a lot of money. She simply hadn’t been able to deal with listening to how much it actually was. It made her feel queasy. But why did Anne-Line have to be like that? Was it because she wouldn’t take that job at the laundry?
No way! Michelle shook her head, it was so depressing. She certainly wasn’t going to get up at four every morning and take the S-train all the way to Helsing?r to handle other people’s shit-stained sheets. Much of it came directly from hospitals, where sick people had been using the linens. Who knew what they had wrong with them. It could be contagious, maybe even deadly. Hepatitis or Ebola or something like that. Just the thought made her nauseous.
No, they couldn’t demand that of her. Not that.
“What did you expect, Michelle?” the woman had asked her caustically. “You haven’t been able to handle a single job we’ve offered you. Neither have you completed any of the courses we’ve enrolled you in. Are you aware what a girl like you who doesn’t contribute anything actually costs society? And on top of all that, now you want to go on vacation with the money you’ve fraudulently claimed? It can’t go on like this, can it, now, Michelle?”
But why was she like this? What had Michelle ever done to her? Didn’t she understand the mind-set of people like Michelle?
She was really good at looking after the apartment she shared with Patrick, making sure it was always clean and tidy. She did the laundry for both of them and could even turn her hand to a bit of cooking, and it was also she who did the shopping. Wasn’t that worth anything?
“The social isn’t going to pay for that, Michelle,” Patrick had said, as if she didn’t know that. But her mother and sister had always been homemakers, so why not her?
She looked down at her smart red suede boots, which she had bought to look good for precisely this meeting, and to what avail? Michelle took a deep breath. This was all just too much to take in at once.
She scratched a little mark off her pants with her polished nails and smoothed down the sleeves of her blouse. She always did that when she couldn’t keep up with what was going on.
Damn that snotty woman, Anne-Line Svendsen. If only she’d walk in front of a car and die.
Michelle looked around forlornly. Screw all the people sitting here, hanging about wearing worn-out shoes and hoods pulled down over their ears, looking like shit. It was their fault that there wasn’t enough money to keep someone like Michelle on benefits. Good people like herself who didn’t hurt anyone or drink or get so fat that they had to be hospitalized, who didn’t stick needles in their arms or go around stealing from others. Who out of all the others sitting here could say that? She smiled at the thought, it was so stupid. Did any of these people do what they were supposed to do? Were any of them even respectable? Certainly not many.
She looked over at a pair of young women standing in the queue waiting for a number. They both appeared to be around her age, and she thought that in contrast to everyone else, they might be all right. At least the sort it was easier to identify with due to their super-nice clothes and attractive makeup.
When the two women had taken their numbers, they looked around, catching sight of the two empty seats in the corner by Michelle, and sat down.