My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She's Sorry(87)

She doesn’t talk to Alf. He doesn’t say anything either. It’s the night before Christmas Eve, but everything just feels odd.

As they’re making their way back up the stairs, Alf stops briefly outside Britt-Marie’s front door. Elsa sees the way he looks at it. Looks at it, as one does when there was once a first time, but never a second, and never anything more. Elsa looks at the Christmas decorations, which, for the first time ever, don’t smell of pizza.

“How old are Kent’s children?” she asks.

“They’re grown-ups,” says Alf bitterly.

“So why did Britt-Marie say they want comics and lollipops, then?”

“Britt-Marie invites them over for dinner every Christmas. They never come. The last time they came they were still children. They liked lollipops and comics then,” Alf answers emptily.

When he moves off up the stairs with his dragging footsteps and Elsa follows, the wurse stays where it is. Considering how smart she is, it takes Elsa an unaccountably long time before she realizes why.

The Princess of Miploris was so beloved of the two princes that they fought for her love, until they hated one another. The Princess of Miploris once had a treasure stolen by a witch, and now she lives in the kingdom of sorrow.

And the wurse is guarding the gates of her castle. Because that’s what wurses do.





28





POTATOES


Elsa wasn’t eavesdropping. She’s not the sort of person who eavesdrops. Especially on Christmas Eve morning.

She just happened to be standing there on the stairs early the next morning, and that’s when she heard Britt-Marie and Kent talking. It wasn’t on purpose—she was looking for the wurse and her Gryffindor scarf. And the door of Kent and Britt-Marie’s flat was open. After she’d stood there for a while listening she realized that if she walked past their door now they’d spot her, and it would look as if maybe she’d been standing on the stairs eavesdropping deliberately. So she just stayed put.

“Britt-Marie!” hollered Kent from inside—judging by the echo he was in the bathroom, and judging by the volume of his shouting she was very far away.

“Yes?” answered Britt-Marie, sounding as if she was standing quite close to him.

“Where is my damn electric razor?” yelled Kent without apologizing for yelling. Elsa disliked him a lot for that. Because it’s “damned,” not “damn.”

“Second drawer,” answered Britt-Marie.

“Why did you put it there? It’s always in the first drawer!”

“It’s always been in the second drawer.”

A second drawer was opened; then came the sound of an electric razor. But not the slightest little sound of Kent saying “thanks.” Britt-Marie went into the flat’s foyer and leaned out the front door with Kent’s suit in her hand. Gently brushed invisible fluff from one arm. She didn’t see Elsa, or at least Elsa didn’t think she did. And because Elsa wasn’t quite sure, she realized that now she had to stay where she was and look as if she was supposed to be there. As if she was just out inspecting the quality of the railings, or something like that. Not at all as if she was eavesdropping. It got very complicated, the whole thing.

Britt-Marie disappeared back into the flat.

“Did you talk to David and Pernilla?” she asked pleasantly.

“Yes, yes.”

“So when are they coming?”

“Damned if I know.”

“But I have to plan the cooking, Kent. . . .”

“Let’s just eat when they come—six, or seven maybe,” Kent said dismissively.

“Well which, Kent?” asked Britt-Marie, sounding worried. “Six or seven?”

“Jesus Christ, Britt-Marie, it doesn’t make any damn difference.”

“If it doesn’t make any difference, then maybe half past six is about right?”

“Fine, whatever.”

“Did you tell them we normally eat at six?”

“We always eat at six.”

“But you did you say that to David and Pernilla?”

“We’ve been having dinner at six since the beginning of time; they’ve probably worked that out by now,” said Kent with a sigh.

“I see. Is there something wrong with that now, all of a sudden?”

“No, no. Let’s say six, then. If they’re not here, they’re not here,” said Kent, as if he was anyway quite sure they wouldn’t come. “I have to go now, I have a meeting with Germany,” he added, walking out of the bathroom.

“I’m only trying to arrange a nice Christmas for the whole family, Kent,” said Britt-Marie despondently.

“Can’t we just bloody heat up the food when they come?!”

“If I can just know when they are coming, I can make sure the food is hot when they arrive,” said Britt-Marie.

“Let’s just eat when everyone is here, if it’s so bloody important.”

“And when will everyone be here, then?”

“Damn, Britt-Marie! I don’t know! You know what they’re like—they could come at six or they could come at half past eight!”

Britt-Marie stood in silence for a few grim seconds. Then she took a deep breath and tried to stabilize her voice as you do when not wanting it to be obvious that you’re yelling inside.