My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She's Sorry(29)

The first bark after that is short and defined. As if Our Friend is merely testing its vocal cords. The second is so loud that all Elsa can hear for several eternities is a ringing sound in her ears. When it finally ebbs away, she hears a terrific thud. Then another. And one more. Only then does she understand what the noise means. Our Friend is launching itself with all its strength at the inside of the door.

Elsa hears one of the police talking on the telephone again. She can’t hear most of what’s being said, but she hears the words “extremely large and aggressive.” She peers down through the railings and sees the police standing a few yards from the door of Our Friend’s flat, their self-confidence dwindling as Our Friend throws itself at the door with increasing force. Two more police have turned up, Elsa notices. One of them has brought a German Shepherd on a leash. The German Shepherd doesn’t seem to think it’s a terrific idea to go wherever that thing, whatever it is, is trying to get out. It watches its handler a little like Elsa looked at Granny that time she tried to rewire Mum’s microwave.

“Call in Animal Control, then,” Elsa hears the policewoman with green eyes saying, at last, with a disconsolate sigh.

“That’s what I said! Exactly what I said!” Britt-Marie calls out eagerly.

The green eyes throw a glance at Britt-Marie that causes her to shut up abruptly.

Our Friend barks one last time, horrifyingly loud. Then grows silent again. There’s a lot of noise on the stairs for a moment, and then Elsa hears the main entrance door closing. The police have clearly decided to wait farther away from whatever is living in that flat, until Animal Control gets there. Elsa watches through the window as they make off, something in their body language suggesting coffee. Whereas the German Shepherd has something in its body language that suggests it is considering early retirement.

Everything is suddenly so quiet on the stairs that Britt-Marie’s lone tripping steps farther down are giving off an echo.

Elsa stands there of two minds. (She knows that “of two minds” is a phrase for the word jar.) She can see the police through the window, and in retrospect Elsa will not be able to explain exactly why she does it. But no true knight of Miamas could stand and watch a friend of Granny’s being killed without trying to do something about it. So she quickly sneaks down the stairs, taking extra care as she passes Britt-Marie and Kent’s flat, and taking the precaution of stopping on every half-landing to listen and make sure the police are not coming back in.

Finally she stops outside Our Friend’s flat and carefully opens the mail slot. Everything is black in there, but she hears Our Friend’s rumbling breath.

“It’s . . . me,” Elsa stammers.

She doesn’t know exactly how to start this type of conversation. And Our Friend doesn’t answer. On the other hand, it doesn’t throw itself against the door either. Elsa sees this as a clear sign of progress in their communication.

“It’s me. The one with the Daim bars.”

Our Friend doesn’t answer. But she can hear its breathing slowing down. Elsa’s words tumble out of her as if someone had toppled them over.

“Hey . . . I mean this might sound mega-weird . . . but I sort of think my granny would have wanted you to get out of here somehow. You know? If you have a back door or something. Because otherwise they’ll shoot you! Maybe that sounds mega-weird, but it’s pretty weird that you’ve got your own flat as well . . . if you get what I mean. . . .”

Only once all the words have fallen out of her does she realize that she’s spoken them in the secret language. Like a test. Because if there’s just a dog on the other side of the door, it won’t understand. But if it does understand, she thinks, then it’s something quite different. She hears a sound made by a paw the size of a car tire, quickly scraping the inside of the door.

“Hope you understand,” Elsa whispers in the secret language.

She never hears the door opening behind her. The only thing she has time to register is Our Friend backing away from the door. As if preparing itself.

Elsa grows aware of someone standing behind her, as if a ghost has appeared behind her. Or a . . .

“Look out!” growls the voice.

Elsa throws herself against the wall as The Monster silently sweeps past with a key in his hand. In the next moment, she is caught halfway between The Monster and Our Friend. And these really are the biggest damned wurse and the biggest damned monster Elsa has ever seen. It feels as if someone is standing on her lungs. She wants to scream, but nothing comes out.

Everything goes terribly fast after that. They hear the door opening at the bottom of the stairs. The voices of the police. And someone else who, Elsa realizes, must be Animal Control. Looking back, Elsa is not completely convinced that she’s in control of her own movements. If she’s been placed under a spell or something it wouldn’t be so unlikely, considering that even if it was unlikely, it would be far less unlikely than running into a flipping wurse. But when the door closes behind her, she’s standing in the front hall in The Monster’s flat.

It smells of soap.





10





ALCOHOL


The sound of splintering wood fills the stairwell as the police drive the crowbar into the doorframe.

Elsa stands in the hall in The Monster’s flat and watches them through the spyhole. Technically, her feet aren’t touching the floor, though, because the wurse has sat down on the hall mat so that she’s wedged between the rear end of the enormous animal and the inside of the door. The wurse looks extremely irritated. Not threatening, just irritated. As if there’s a wasp in its bottle of lemonade.