Yesterday's News

by Kajsa Ingemarsson

  Agnes’s voice was a little croaky and she cleared her throat. “Yes, thanks for getting back to me.” She tried to gather her wits. She’d been asleep for two hours and her headache had gone, but on the other hand she was ravenous. “Kalle Reuterswärd from Picnic’s is opening his own restaurant and needs staff. Would you be interested? There’s little time – it opens on Saturday.”

  “Sure!”

  “Pardon?”

  “Sure. I’m up for it.”

  “But.…” Agnes didn’t know what to say. She had been unprepared for such an enthusiastic response. “You mean you want the job?”

  “Yes. I’d like to talk to Kalle and check the place out, but in principal, yes. I’m unemployed.”

  “Are you unemployed?” said Agnes in surprise. She’d known Pernilla for a couple of years; she was one sassy woman.

  “I gave notice last week. Couldn’t stand my boss any more. A real pig, kept trying to grope me and stuff.”

  “So you quit?” Agnes swallowed. The story sounded familiar.

  “He had to pay me an extra month for me quitting, otherwise I was threatening to report him for sexual harassment.”

  “And he went along with it?”

  “Sure. What choice did he have?”

  Agnes thought that there was a lot more he could have done. And much more Pernilla could have done. Made do with getting fired and leaving without pay, for example. “Have you got time to meet Kalle today?” Agnes looked askance at her clock. Half past two. Kalle would probably be at the restaurant for the entire evening.

  “Sure. I’m a little tied up at the moment, but do you think around five would be OK?”

  “Definitely.” Agnes gave her the address on Skånegatan.

  “So anyway, what’s the place called?”

  “The Yellow Lemon Tree. And it still looks like a construction site, so be prepared for that.”

  “OK. See you then!”

  Agnes dragged herself out of bed and got ready to go into town. Part way down the stairs, she heard music coming from the second floor. That happened a lot. It came from Kummel’s apartment. Bob Dylan at full blast. She shuddered. She hated Bob Dylan. Not even Tobias had managed to convince her of his greatness.

  Kalle lit up when she arrived. And lit up even more when she told him about Pernilla and Henrik. He had some good news, too. He’d found a chef, Filip, who he thought would be great for the job. In turn, Filip was going to contact a chef he knew who, he said, was “just right for the concept.”

  “Things’ll work out, you’ll see,” beamed Kalle. “And I hope you noticed that we’ve now got a coatroom!”

  “I saw. Wonderful! And you’ve fixed the door, too. It hardly makes a sound.”

  “It just had to be raised a couple of millimeters and the hinges needed oiling. I wish the water for the bar could be just as simple.… The plumber’s coming tomorrow. He’ll install the sink in the bathroom, too. The tables and chairs are due for delivery on Thursday, knock on wood.…”

  The door gave off a slight squeak as Pernilla entered the restaurant. She greeted Kalle. They had met before, through mutual friends, but had never been colleagues. Pernilla removed her coat. She was just as tall as Agnes, but otherwise they were total opposites.

  Whereas Agnes was slender and long-limbed, Pernilla was powerful – not fat, more athletic. With broad shoulders and thin hips like a swimmer. She had red hair, natural probably, but definitely emphasized with dye, and it shone intensely copper-red against her pale skin. Colorful, thought Agnes. And attractive. It didn’t surprise her that her former boss had tried to hit on her. Kalle showed her around, while Agnes put on a pair of overalls. There was a lot left to do. She heard them chatting amiably, Kalle talking about the food and Pernilla praising the look. By the time she left she’d already given her decision. Pernilla would be only too happy to start at The Yellow Lemon Tree.

  When Agnes arrived home that evening, she found a message from Henrik on her answering machine. He’d made up his mind. The writing would have to wait a little while longer. Agnes felt content. If that Filip could just sort out another chef, they’d be ready to roll.

  CHAPTER 16

  ON THE THURSDAY EVENING, the entire staff was to meet at the restaurant. They needed to go through the menu, the procedures, the rooms. They were due to open to the public the following Tuesday, and the opening party was on Saturday. Agnes had invited her parents, Jonas and Madde, and, of course, Lussan. Her mom had been happy for her sake when she heard about the job. When Agnes pointed out that it was still something of a risky venture, she dismissed it with a wave. Why get preoccupied with future difficulties when you can enjoy the present? Maybe there was some truth in that. Agnes was, after all, happy there. For the time being, at least.

  Agnes had been at the restaurant that morning to receive deliveries. The chairs had come as promised, delivered by a surly fellow in a cap bearing the word Tiger. A big, fat, grouchy tiger, Agnes had thought. But the tables were still missing, and Kalle was out chasing down the supplier. Most of the food and drink arrangements had been dealt with, but the fish wholesaler had suddenly gone bankrupt and Kalle had spent half of Wednesday trying to find a replacement. That was the first time Agnes thought she detected a hint of apprehension in Kalle. He really was quite remarkably composed bearing in mind how much there was still to do. As it was, the matter of the fishmonger had obviously worked out, as Kalle had returned with a contract. Agnes decided to go home for a bit before the meeting. She’d just have time to gulp down some noodle soup and take a shower.

  Two hours later she was back at the restaurant. Kalle and Pernilla were already there, and Agnes sat herself down on one of the new chairs. Shortly after her came Henrik. He’d already met Kalle, and greeted Agnes and Pernilla warmly. He hadn’t changed. Slightly shorter hair, maybe, but otherwise the same smiley face. He was always so full of energy. Agnes was surprised that he hadn’t gotten around to writing his novel, as he seemed to be one of those people who always accomplished what they set out to do. But on the other hand, what did she know? She hadn’t even picked up that he was gay.

  Kalle had bought a case of beer and Agnes took a Stella while she waited. She was curious about the chefs. Kalle had said that Filip was highly talented, but young, around twenty-five. About the other guy she knew, as yet, nothing. She was now to find out, though, as the door opened and the two men stepped down into the room. Agnes stared at them as they greeted everyone. One of them she recognized. Only too well.

  “Hi, I’m Paolo,” he said, holding out his hand. And then he recognized her, too. He stiffened. Agnes didn’t know what to do with herself. She felt foolish; really, really foolish. They looked at each other in silence for what felt like hours. And then he broke into a smile. Cautiously. “Oh, right,” he said at last. “It’s you.”

  “Yes.” Her reply sounded like a squeak. A silly little squeak. He was still smiling, but Agnes couldn’t tell if it was out of friendliness or derision. Filip approached them. He held out his hand and introduced himself. Agnes did the same. Paolo remained and Filip looked a little quizzically at him.

  “Do you know each other?” Everyone turned to look at them. There was silence as they awaited the answer. It was Paolo who spoke up first.

  “In a way. We met briefly a couple of weeks ago. Didn’t we?”

  “Yes, yes, that’s right…,” stuttered Agnes. Before going to sit down, Paolo winked quickly at her. Maybe he wasn’t being derisive after all.

  Agnes found it hard to concentrate on what was being said. She didn’t want to look at the others and was scared of catching Paolo’s eye. How cringingly embarrassing! It was one of her life’s few one-night stands and definitely the only one she’d sneaked away from without a goodbye. She could just imagine his opinion of her. She thought she’d gotten away with just the dread – Stockholm is, after all, rather large. But here he sat, on a newly purchased oak chair three feet away. Her new colleague.

  Kalle asked everyone
to tell the others a little about themselves. Agnes was asked to start. She looked down at her lap and briefly delivered her résumé. She skipped Le Bateau Bleu, but Kalle didn’t let her get away with it. He broke in, and told everyone that she had in fact worked as head waitress at the legendary French restaurant. Agnes said that it was for such a short time that it didn’t seem worth mentioning, and then she said that she was done. The others gave their own personal histories, one of which she’d heard before, and then Kalle started to talk about the food.

  Agnes almost forgot her shyness when listening to Kalle run through the menu. It all sounded so wonderfully good. Especially with the memory of the salty noodle soup still on her palate. The descriptions of lemon-marinated vegetables, lobster with chili dip, and roast chicken in thyme elicited nods of agreement from Filip and Paolo.

  “As you can see, the concept is one of pure, simple dishes inspired by Mediterranean cuisine, seasoned with influences from Asia,” Kalle said in summing up. “I’m not interested in breaking new ground with onion marmalade and vanilla vinaigrette, or dishes piled up into ridiculous towers that you can’t eat. People will come here because they like fresh food, not because they necessarily have to have the latest thing.” The others broke out into spontaneous applause. Kalle smiled bashfully. Then he presented his proposed work schedule. Two people were to work in the kitchens and two at the tables; they might have to consider bringing in a third person for Fridays and Saturdays, but for the present they would work along the suggested lines. No one protested and Kalle handed everyone their own copy of the schedule. Suddenly he brightened: “Oh, yes! There’s one more thing. Wait here!” He got up and sprang over to the kitchen, appearing seconds later carrying a cardboard box. He opened it and started to unpack the contents. “I hope I got the right sizes. Agnes, here you go, medium.” He handed her a shirt. It was short-sleeved, tailored in at the waist and a bright lime green. On the breast was printed the restaurant’s logo of a lemon tree.

  “It’s lovely” Agnes exclaimed. The others, who had also received theirs, agreed.

  “Looks great,” said Henrik, holding up the straighter-cut male version to his chest.

  “A bit small, possibly.…” Pernilla pulled carefully at the material to see how much it would stretch.

  “There are some extra-larges,” Kalle added. “I thought the waiters could wear them, say with normal jeans. The Yellow Lemon Tree is a cool, modern restaurant, and I want that the staff to advertise the fact. My friend who designed the logo also helped me with the shirts. We got them sponsored on the condition that their brand is printed on the menu. But they never said how big the lettering had to be, so if you use a magnifying glass you can see their name on the inside bottom right-hand corner.” Kalle grinned. “Filip and Paolo get their own shirts, of course. Here you go!” he said, throwing them over to Filip, who then handed one to Paolo. Agnes noted out of the corner of her eye that the green contrasted attractively with his dark hair. The same was true of Pernilla, whose coloring matched the shirt well. Agnes herself would no doubt completely disappear. She held the shirt up against herself.

  “The color suits you.” Paolo looked at her and nodded.

  “Do you think so? It doesn’t make me look too pale?”

  “Not at all. That green goes really well with your brown eyes.”

  “Thanks.” Agnes looked down at her lap again, blushing.

  Kalle had started to go through the opening party. It was to begin at seven on Saturday and there were to be about a hundred guests. They were going to serve a buffet based on the menu, while the wine and beer suppliers would sponsor the drinks.

  “We’ll start preparing the food tomorrow, so you can come at around three,” Kalle said, looking at the chefs. His authority showed, but it was of a natural kind. She hadn’t given it a thought when she was working on the renovation, but she recognized it again now from the kitchen at Picnic. He never had to raise his voice or threaten; people did what he said anyway. A useful quality for a manager, thought Agnes.

  When they had gone through the agenda, they sat chatting for a while. About restaurants they’d worked at, impossible colleagues and slave-driving bosses. Pernilla told them about her groping pig-boss. Agnes didn’t tell them about hers. She was starting to feel tired. It was time to go home. She made her excuses and gathered her things. The others stayed behind. Just as she was leaving, Paolo called out to her.

  “Are you heading for the subway?”

  “Yes.” What could she say - she couldn’t really lie, now, could she?

  “I’ll come too, if that’s OK.”

  “Sure.” Agnes regretted it. Of course she could have lied. Paolo collected his jacket and followed her up the step. They said goodbye to the others and walked out onto the street. They strolled in silence for a few steps. Agnes felt it was up to her to say something. She steeled herself: “Well, I guess you’re wondering.…” That was all she could come up with. She had no idea what Paolo was wondering.

  “Why you walked out?” he said, finishing her sentence.

  “Yes.”

  “Well naturally I was a little surprised, that I have to admit. I thought we’d had a really nice time.…” Agnes wanted to interrupt, to say that of course she’d had a nice time, but Paolo was continuing, “… but on the other hand, I think I understand why.”

  “Oh, yes?”

  “Yeah. I guess I’ve done the same once or twice.…” Agnes looked at him. He gave a laugh. “It’s not exactly a habit of mine, but as I said, it’s happened.” By now, they’d reached the main road. It was dark, but there were still a good many people out on the streets. Probably on their way home from the local movie theater.

  “Well it was a first for me, at least,” she said finally.

  “Oh, that doesn’t sound like much of a compliment. What did I do to push you to it?”

  “It wasn’t about you.” She considered whether or not to tell him about Tobias. She might as well. “I’d just split with my boyfriend and I guess I wasn’t… that stable. I shouldn’t have gone back to your place, and by that I don’t mean that I didn’t enjoy it, it’s just that I wasn’t ready for it. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “I think I do.”

  “I’m sorry for walking out. It wasn’t particularly nice of me.”

  “No, I suppose it wasn’t, but apology accepted. But heaven help you if you leave me in the shit at work!” He laughed again. Agnes, too. They had reached the station at Medborgarplatsen, and Agnes started to descend the steps. A little way down she realized that Paolo wasn’t with her.

  “Aren’t you taking the train?” she asked.

  “No. I lied,” he said. “I just wanted to talk to you before we started working together. It seemed too complicated to go around pretending nothing had happened.”

  “Thanks for doing that.” Agnes looked at him and smiled. “I was too much of a coward,” she added before waving and continuing down the steps to the turnstiles. She felt relieved. Very relieved.

  CHAPTER 17

  AT FOUR O’CLOCK, Agnes stepped into the restaurant. She could hear the clatter from the kitchen and headed straight for it. Filip was standing there stirring a pot and Paolo was rinsing vegetables. A radio was on in the background. They turned and greeted her cheerfully when they heard the swing doors. The mood was intense, but not choatic. Filip told Agnes that Kalle had just rushed off to pick up the sound equipment for the party. Agnes went out into the dining area. The furniture had been rearranged to make way for a long table in the middle of the room, on which the buffet was to be served. She hung up her coat and started to set the tables. When she had finished, she surveyed the scene. Even though they’d naturally tried out a few ideas on the tables beforehand, this was the first time she’d seen the restaurant as a whole. And she saw that it was good. Really good, even. If the food was of the same quality, it’d be an excellent restaurant.

  An hour before the party, they all gathered together. Kalle was in high spirit
s but seemed nervous and kept popping into the kitchen to check on one thing and then the other. Agnes could sympathize. This was his dream, his own project come true. Of course he wanted everything to go well. Just as she did. The Yellow Lemon Tree might not have been her restaurant, but she felt responsible nonetheless. It was the first time she’d been involved in something from the beginning and able to take decisions. And the results reflected many of her own opinions as well.

  Kalle appeared in the dining room and called for their attention.

  “As you know, this isn’t the official opening but a party to celebrate that, well, this is it! Our guests this evening are our friends, our families, and I guarantee that no one will have to pay for their meal.” There was a ripple of laughter. “This is my restaurant.” Kalle stopped talking and looked at the others. “On paper. In practice, I see it as our restaurant. We are the ones who, together, will be creating our concept, our success.…” Henrik whistled and clapped, and the others joined in. “I expect everyone to do their best. And more. And this evening I expect you…” pausing again “… to make sure you have a damn good time!” Applause again. “Well, that’s all from me. Let’s prepare the food. Paolo, you get the skewers going, and Filip, you start on the shrimp. You others get the serving dishes from the fridge and set them out. Me, I’m going to have a beer to calm my nerves. Our guests will be here in a quarter of an hour.”

  Everyone got going on their tasks. Agnes lit the table candles, and uncorked the wine bottles. Henrik and Pernilla loaded the buffet table with dishes from the kitchen. Bowls of olives, mini beef skewers covered in sesame seeds, garlic scampi, sliced chicken fillets scented with thyme, marinated vegetables, grilled aubergine, freshly baked bread, dips, Parma ham, a fabulous bowl of fruit, and of course, everywhere, lots and lots of lemons. It was looking great, but that was all she had time to think before the door rattled and the first guests of the evening arrived.