My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She's Sorry(81)
But Elsa can’t say no to Mum right now, because Mum, after a lot of nagging, has agreed to let the wurse hide in Granny’s flat over Christmas. It’s quite difficult saying no to a mum who lets you bring a wurse home, even if Mum still sighs about Elsa “exaggerating” when Elsa says Kent is trying to kill it.
On the other hand, Elsa is happy that the wurse took an instant dislike to George. Not that Elsa feels anyone should hate George, but really no one ever has, so it’s nice just for a change.
The boy with a syndrome and his mum are about to move into Granny’s flat. Elsa knows that because she played hide-the-key with the boy all afternoon while Mum, George, Alf, Lennart, Maud, and the boy’s mother sat in the kitchen talking about secrets. They deny it, of course, but Elsa knows how secretive voices sound. You know that when you’re almost eight. She hates that Mum has secrets from her. When you know someone is keeping secrets from you it makes you feel like an idiot, and no one likes feeling like an idiot. Mum of all people should know that.
Elsa knows they’re talking about Granny’s flat being easier to defend if Sam comes here. She knows that Sam will come sooner or later, and that Mum is going to assemble Granny’s army on the top floor. Elsa was in Lennart and Maud’s flat with the wurse when Mum told Maud to just “pack the essentials” and tried to sound as if it wasn’t at all serious. And then Maud and the wurse packed all the cookie tins they could find into big bags, and when Mum saw that she sighed and said: “Please, Maud, I said just the essentials!” And then Maud looked at Mum in a puzzled way and replied: “Cookies are the essentials.”
The wurse growled happily at that statement, then looked at Mum as if it was more disappointed than angry and pointedly pushed an extra tin of chocolate and peanut cookies into the bag. Then they carried it all upstairs to Granny’s flat and George invited everyone for mulled wine. The wurse drank the most mulled wine of them all. And now all the grown-ups are sitting in Mum and George’s kitchen, having secrets together.
Although Britt-Marie and Kent’s door is full of Christmas decorations, no one answers when Elsa rings the doorbell. She finds Britt-Marie in the corridor downstairs, just inside the entrance. She stands with her hands clasped together on her stomach, staring disconsolately at the stroller, which is still locked to the banister. She’s wearing the floral-print jacket and the brooch. And there’s a new notice on the wall.
The first sign was the one that said it was forbidden to leave strollers there. And then someone took that sign down. And now someone has put up a new sign. And the stroller is still there. And it’s actually not a sign, Elsa notices when she goes closer. It’s a crossword.
Britt-Marie is startled when she catches sight of her.
“I suppose you find this funny,” she starts, “you and your family. Making the rest of us look foolish in this house. But I’ll get to the bottom of it and find those who are responsible for this, you can be quite sure about that. It’s actually a fire risk to have strollers in the stairwell and to keep taping up notices on the walls! The paper can actually start burning!”
She rubs an invisible stain from her brooch.
“I’m actually not an idiot, I’m actually not. I know you talk behind my back in this leaseholders’ association, I know you do!”
Elsa doesn’t quite know what happens inside her at that point, but it must be the combination of the words “not an idiot” and “behind my back,” perhaps. Something very unpleasant and acidic and foul-smelling rises in Elsa’s throat, and it takes a long time before, with disgust, she has to admit to herself that it’s sympathy.
No one likes feeling like an idiot.
So Elsa says nothing about how maybe Britt-Marie could try to stop being such a bloody busybody all the time, if she wants people to talk to her a bit more. She doesn’t even mention that this is not actually a leaseholders’ association. She just swallows all the pride she’s feasting on and mumbles:
“Mum and George want to invite you and Kent for Christmas dinner tomorrow. Everyone in the house is going to be there.”
Britt-Marie’s gaze wavers for just an instant. Elsa briefly recalls the look she gave earlier today, the human look, but then she seems to snap out of it.
“Well, well, I can’t respond to invitations just like that, because Kent is actually at the office right now, and certain people in this house have jobs to take care of. You can give your mother that message. Not all people have time off all Christmas. And Kent’s children are coming tomorrow and they actually don’t like running about, going to other people’s parties, they like being home with me and Kent. And we’re eating some ordinary Christmas food, like a civilized family. We are. You can give your mother that message!”
Britt-Marie storms off; Elsa stays where she is, shaking her head and mumbling, “Muppet, muppet, muppet.” She looks at the crossword above the stroller; she doesn’t know who put it there, but now she wishes she’d thought of it herself, because it’s obviously driving Britt-Marie barmy.
Elsa goes back up the stairs and knocks on the door of the woman with the black skirt.
“We’re having Christmas dinner at our house tomorrow. You’re welcome, if you like,” says Elsa, and adds: “It could actually be quite nice, because Britt-Marie and Kent aren’t coming!”
The woman freezes.