My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She's Sorry(73)

“This was on my boys’ . . . on their . . . it was on their headstone. I don’t . . . don’t know who put it there. But your granny—maybe she figured out that I’d come. . . .”

Elsa takes the envelope. The woman in jeans has disappeared down the stairs before she has time to look up from the envelope. On it, it says, “To Elsa! Give this to Lennart and Maud!”

And that is how Elsa finds Granny’s third letter.

Lennart is holding a coffee cup in his hand when he opens the door. Maud and Samantha are behind him, both looking very sweet. They smell of cookies.

“I have a letter for you,” Elsa declares.

Lennart takes it and is just about to say something, but Elsa goes on:

“It’s from my granny! She’s probably sending her regards and saying sorry, because that’s what she’s doing in all the letters.”

Lennart nods meekly. Maud nods even more meekly.

“We’re so terribly sad about this whole thing with your grandmother, dear Elsa. But it was such a wonderfully beautiful funeral, we thought. We’re so glad that we were invited. Come in and have a dream—and Alf brought over some of that chocolate drink as well.” Maud beams.

Samantha barks. Even her bark sounds friendly. Elsa takes a dream from the proffered tin, filled to the top. She smiles cooperatively at Maud.

“I have a friend who likes dreams very much. And he’s been on his own all day. Do you think it would be all right to bring him up?”

Maud and Lennart nod as if it goes without saying.





24





DREAMS


Maud doesn’t look quite as convinced once the wurse is sitting on her kitchen rug a few moments later. Especially as it’s literally sitting on the entire kitchen rug.

“I told you it likes dreams, didn’t I?” says Elsa cheerfully.

Maud nods mutely. Lennart sits on the other side of the table, with an immeasurably terrified-looking Samantha on his lap. The wurse eats dreams, a dozen at a time.

“What breed is that?” says Lennart very quietly to Elsa, as if he’s afraid the wurse may take offense.

“A wurse!” says Elsa with satisfaction.

Lennart nods like you do when you don’t have a clue what something means. Maud opens a new tin of dreams and carefully pushes it across the floor with the tips of her toes. The wurse empties it in three slavering bites, then lifts its head and peers at Maud with eyes as big as hubcaps. Maud takes down another two tins and tries not to look flattered. It doesn’t go so very well.

Elsa looks at the letter from Granny. It’s lying unfolded and open on the table. Lennart and Maud must have read it while she was in the cellar getting the wurse. Lennart notices her looking, and he puts his hand on her shoulder.

“You’re right, Elsa. Your grandmother says sorry.”

“For what?”

Maud gives the wurse some cinnamon buns and half a length of sweet cake.

“Well, it was quite a list. Your grandmother was certainly—”

“Different,” Elsa interjects.

Maud laughs warmly and pats the wurse on the head.

Lennart nods at the letter.

“First of all she apologizes for telling us off so often. And for being angry so often. And for arguing and causing problems. It’s really nothing to apologize about, all people do that from time to time!” he says, as if apologizing for Granny apologizing.

“You don’t,” says Elsa and likes them for it. Maud starts giggling. “And then she apologized about that time she happened to shoot Lennart from her balcony with one of those, what are they called, paint-bomb guns!”

Suddenly she looks embarrassed.

“Is that what it’s called? Paint-bomb?”

Elsa nods. Even though it isn’t. Maud looks proud.

“Once your grandmother even got Britt-Marie—there was a big pink stain on her floral-print jacket, and that’s Britt-Marie’s favorite jacket and the stain wouldn’t even go away with Vanish! Can you imagine?”

Maud titters. And then she looks very guilty.

“What else does Granny apologize about?” Elsa asks, hoping for more stories about someone shooting that paintball gun at Britt-Marie. But Lennart’s chin drops towards his chest. He looks at Maud and she nods, and Lennart turns to Elsa and says:

“Your granny wrote that she was sorry for asking us to tell you the whole story. Everything you have to know.”

“What story?” Elsa’s about to ask, but she suddenly becomes aware of someone standing behind her. She twists round in her chair, and the boy with a syndrome is standing in the bedroom doorway with a cuddly lion in his arms.

He looks at Elsa, but when she looks back at him he lets his hair fall over his brow, like Elsa sometimes does. He’s about a year younger, but almost exactly as tall, and they have the same hairstyle and almost the same color too. The only thing that sets them apart is that Elsa is different and the boy has a syndrome, which is a very special kind of difference.

The boy doesn’t say anything, because he never does. Maud kisses his forehead and whispers, “Nightmare?” and the boy nods. Maud gets a big glass of milk and a whole tin of dreams, takes his hand, and leads him back into the bedroom, while robustly saying: “Come on, let’s chase it away at once!”