“True.…” There was something in what Lussan was saying. “But not now.”
“No, of course not now! I’m here. But later.…”
“Later?”
“Later after I’ve gone.”
“You’re crazy!” Agnes couldn’t help laughing. “I’ve just wrecked a relationship and you want me to go and flirt with my neighbor,” she said, shaking her head.
“Firstly, I didn’t say anything about flirting with David. Those are your words.” Lussan defended herself. “I just thought you could stop by and say you were still alive.”
“Yeah, sure.…”
“And secondly, you haven’t wrecked a relationship. Tobias wrecked a relationship. You’ve ended one.”
“The difference being?”
“Dignity.” Lussan emptied the wine bottle. “You have dignity. He doesn’t.”
After Lussan left, Agnes stayed sitting for a while in the kitchen, thinking. It was strange. Only a day had gone by since Tobias left her, or she him, or however it was, and she could already breathe again. She’d been through it before, as recently as a few months ago. It didn’t used to be this easy. Something had happened, something was different. Perhaps it was the case that she’d broken up with Tobias so many times that she was finally done with it. Perhaps she’d done all the grieving there was to do the previous time.
She got up to clear the table. She should go down to David’s, she thought, as Lussan had suggested. Just to say hi and to show him that she was back on her feet again. Maybe he really was worried. Yes, she’d do that, definitely, but not tonight. Admittedly it was only ten o’clock, but she was too tired.
Before going back to bed, she called Kalle at the restaurant to tell him that she could start again the next day if he needed her. He sounded relieved, didn’t even protest about her brief period of leave. It had obviously not been as easy to fill in for her absence as he’d hoped.
“Great!” was all he said. “I’ll tell Pernilla. She was going to go away somewhere, so I bet she’ll be pleased.”
When Agnes went back to lie down shortly afterwards, she felt the emptiness in her body again. But this time it was different. It didn’t feel like an emptiness caused by loss, but an emptiness caused by expectation.
CHAPTER 40
AND, YES, HE WAS indeed at home. Melancholic singing could be heard from his apartment. It was whatsisname, that sexpot, Chris Isaak – every sensitive man’s patron saint. Definitely a step forward in her neighbor’s musical education.
Agnes hesitated for a second before ringing his doorbell. She ran her hand through her hair and pinched the corners of her mouth with her thumb and forefinger. A reflex. She wasn’t even wearing any lipstick. The volume was turned down before David opened the door. He smiled a little nervously when he saw who it was.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” Agnes hastily dropped her gaze. To say that she’d bared herself to the man in the doorway would be an understatement. She’d collapsed in his arms, wept and called for her dead mother. He’d lifted her up and laid her in her bed. Tucked her in and stroked her hair until she’d fallen asleep. It would probably have felt less awkward if she’d just had sex with him. Wearing a bunny costume, pinafore, and handcuffs.
“How are you?”
“Better.” She paused. David said nothing. The sound of a semi-acoustic guitar drifted from the sitting room. I thought you loved me. I was wrong, but life goes on.… “Thanks for your help.”
“It was nothing.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
David glanced into his apartment. “Er.…” he began tentatively. “I’d invite you in but.… I’m a little busy. I’m expecting a friend, and.…”
Agnes felt foolish and took an involuntary step back from his door. “Of course. I didn’t want… I mean, I was on my way to work.” There was a second’s pregnant silence. “Drop by at the restaurant some time, if you want to that is.… I’ll treat you to a cappuccino.”
“Maybe I will.” He didn’t sound too convincing.
“Well, that’s that then. I just wanted to say thanks. As I said.”
David nodded. “OK.” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “See you around.”
“Definitely.” Agnes tried to sound breezy. “Bye!” She turned and hurried down the stairs. The sound of his door shutting reached her half way down.
When she emerged onto the street she had to stop for a moment. Her heart was pounding and she was breathing heavily. What had she been expecting? Of course the guy would shy away. He’d only called by the other evening to see if everything was OK. Instead, he’d ended up in the throes of an emotional shipwreck. It had been too much for him, that was natural. Far too much for anyone.
She started to walk. It was warm, and soon summer. She didn’t even need to wear her jacket and the tights that she was wearing with her thin skirt felt sticky and uncomfortable. She increased her pace, stumbled slightly and swore loudly to herself. A woman walking a dog looked up and threw her a disapproving look.
Agnes descended into the subway and paced the platform restlessly while waiting for her train. When it arrived, she read the same ad over and over again. As if it concealed a secret message to her. If it did, she didn’t manage to decipher it before it was time to get off at Slussen.
Kalle noticed immediately that something was up, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer his questions. She just mumbled dismissively, and said that she had a headache. When the guests started to arrive, she had other things to think about. It was far from full, but by seven thirty, six of the tables at least were occupied. Agnes had just gone out to the bar to fetch a bottle of wine when some new guests arrived. She heard the door and scurried out into the dining room again to receive them. She lurched when she saw who it was standing there. As if to an invisible command she put the bottle to one side and straightened her back.
It was Lola.
Agnes took a few tentative steps forward, nodded, and said good evening. Lola nodded back with only the hint of a smile. Agnes looked around quickly to see if she had company and to locate a suitable table, but Lola stopped her.
“I have not come here to dine,” she said curtly. The smile had gone. “I am on a different errand entirely.”
Agnes didn’t know what to say. She felt all the guests’ eyes upon them. Although that was probably just her imagination. Lola’s voice was clear, but she spoke quietly and was standing quite close to Agnes.
“Really?”
“Incidentally, what, may I ask, is your name?”
“Agnes.”
“Agnes. How nice.” She smiled again, very briefly, before continuing. “I have a question for you, Agnes. Can we meet tomorrow, for lunch? At one?”
Agnes hesitated, but before she had time to reply, Lola had started to speak again. “Excellent! The Diplomat Hotel. You can ask for Beatrice Brunelle at reception.” She reached out her hand. It took a moment for Agnes to realize that it was meant for her. She accepted it and Lola pressed her cool palm against hers. “Good, a rendezvous it is, then. À demain!”
Agnes nodded dumbly. She stood behind in the middle of the dining room as she watched the elegant woman leave the restaurant. The faint aroma of exclusive perfume hung in the air.
“Ahem.…” Someone coughed gently a few tables away. “Waitress, our wine…?”
Agnes looked up. Of course, the wine. She snatched it up and hurried to the table to serve her thirsty guests. Then she went out to Kalle and Paolo in the kitchen.
“Something strange has just happened,” she said slowly, seating herself on a stool by the door.
“Strange, how?” Kalle looked up from the saucepan that he stood whisking something in.
“Lola was just here.”
He started. “Lola? Is she out there?”
“No.”
“But you just said.…”
“That she was here, yes. But she left again.”
Paolo joined them. “What did she want?”<
br />
“She wanted to meet me. Tomorrow at the Diplomat.”
Kalle and Paolo looked at each other.
“Lola wanted to meet you?”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
“Search me. That’s all she said. That she wanted to meet me tomorrow at one at the Diplomat Hotel. That she had something she wanted to ask me about. Her name’s not Lola, by the way, it’s Beatrice.…”
Kalle broke in. “Lola’s a pseudonym. We knew that. But I still don’t get.… I thought it was all over, that there wasn’t going to be a review.”
Agnes shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out what all this is about tomorrow.” She got up to go out, but before she left the kitchen, Paolo gave a chuckle. She turned.
“You’ve got yourself an admirer,” he said grinning. Agnes snorted. “And Agnes, don’t forget to be obliging. For the restaurant’s sake.…”
Agnes found it hard to concentrate for the rest of the evening. Her work routines might have managed to repress her musings on the events of the past few days, but Lola’s mysterious appearance disturbed her, and she unwillingly started to feel nervous. What if Paolo was right and Lola was interested in her – in that way? What if she was prolonging the review for her sake? To have a reason to visit the restaurant so often? Agnes didn’t feel very at ease with the thought. How could she decline such a proposition without making things difficult for the restaurant?
When Lussan arrived just before closing, Agnes perked up. Lussan usually saw things so clearly. But something was strange about her friend, and it took a while for Agnes to realize what it was. Lussan was drunk. How it had happened Agnes was at a loss to understand. As many times as she’d seen Lussan drink alcohol, copious amounts of alcohol at that, she’d never once witnessed any sign of intoxication. Or rather, not intoxication as Agnes meant it, at least. Sure, Lussan could get a little slurred on the odd occasion, but never wasted.
Now she was sitting on a stool at the bar talking animatedly to two guys sitting in the armchairs with their beers, bursting into affected laughter as she spilt her gin and tonic over her short skirt. Agnes looked worriedly at her as she tapped out the bill for the last of the guests. The guys in the bar also drank up, one of them turning to give Lussan an extra once-over before shaking his head and departing.
Agnes handed the bill to the guests in the dining room and received a credit card in return. She hurried out again with the receipt to have it signed, and then they were alone. Lussan had helped herself to a fresh drink. Her head was drooping and one boot-clad foot was bobbing up and down in time to a song that she was trying to hum. When she looked up she noticed Agnes.
“Agnes! Less hit town!” she slurred. “We’re gonna party, you ’n’ me.”
“How are you, Lussan?” Agnes walked over to her friend and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“On top of the world! But less go down town, this place is dead.” Lussan made an attempt at jumping down from the stool, but one of her heels got snagged in the footrest and she tumbled head first at the floor. Agnes managed to save her from a total crash-landing. “Aw, shit!” grumbled Lussan and then burst out laughing. When, swaying, she got back onto her feet with the help of Agnes, there was a large hole in her black tights and a trickle of blood coming from her knee.
“You’ve hurt yourself.”
“It’s nothing.” Lussan grabbed hold of her glass on the bar and drained it. There was a lot in it, and the liquid dribbled out of the sides of her mouth and down her chin and onto her red blouse. Lussan didn’t even notice.
“Lussan, now you listen to me!” Agnes grabbed her shoulders and tried to make eye contact. She’d started to feel concerned; never had she seen Lussan in this state. “What’s happened? You’re totally wasted!”
“I told you, nothing’s happened!” snapped Lussan and knocked one of Agnes’s arms away. “Aren’t I allowed to have a bit of fun?”
At that moment, Paolo emerged from the kitchen. He’d already changed out of his work clothes, and it took him no more than a few seconds to realize what was up when he caught sight of Lussan. He walked over to her.
“Go home,” he said brusquely.
“Well if it isn’t my old friend Paolo.” Lussan lit up in what was meant to be a smile. She stumbled and almost fell again. Agnes caught her. “Beau’ful, wise Paolo.… So you think Lussan should go home?”
“Yes. Agnes, call her a taxi.”
Agnes hurried to the phone and dialed Taxi Stockholm. She could hear Lussan still slurring away.
“Won’t you come home with me, then, Paolo baby?” She placed her arms around his neck. Paolo removed them and pushed her down into one of the armchairs.
“I’ll go and get your things and then Agnes and I will take you home,” he said, looking gravely at her. Then he reached out his hand and brushed her cheek.
She looked small as she sat there with her short dark hair all tousled and the crust of dried blood on her injured knee. She could have been a little girl who’d fallen off her bike onto the cement. Who’d hurt herself and was now in need of comforting.
Agnes walked up to Paolo. “The taxi will be here in a few minutes. Are you sure you want to come back, too?”
“Of course. I’ll just tell Kalle that he’ll have to lock up on his own tonight.” He disappeared into the kitchen and retuned a few seconds later. “All done. Kalle knows we’re off.” He then turned towards Lussan, whose head had slumped down onto her chest. It looked like she was asleep, but when Paolo tried to help her up she began to speak again.
“You don’t need to take me home. I can manage on me own, me.”
“Of course, we know you can,” said Paolo amiably. “But right now, Agnes and I want to take you home. OK?” Paolo gestured to Agnes to take hold of Lussan’s other side, and together they pried her out of the armchair and into the waiting taxi.
The taxi driver looked suspiciously at his loose-limbed passenger. “If she gets sick you’ll have to pay for it,” he said sourly. Agnes nodded. In the car, Lussan dropped off against Paolo’s shoulder, breathing heavily with her mouth agape. She smelled strongly of alcohol, both her breath and her clothes.
The taxi stopped outside her front door on Sankt Eriksgatan and while Agnes paid for the ride, Paolo tried to rouse Lussan. It wasn’t easy, but in the end they got her out of the car, in through the door, and up in the elevator. Agnes had to rummage through Lussan’s bag to find the key to her apartment, removing her purse and cell phone to make her search easier. At the bottom of her bag lay her key ring, in the company of a powder compact from Face, lipstick, an eyeliner pencil, half a pack of Extra, a few loose throat lozenges, a pen, two tampons, a candy wrapper, a handful of receipts, and a little bottle.
Agnes unlocked the door. They had to make their way through the mess in the hall to get Lussan into her unmade bed. Paolo discreetly left the room as Agnes undressed her and eased her under the covers. There was no question of removing her makeup, most of which had rubbed off anyway. The eyeliner had run down under her eyes, her lips were pale, her cheeks, too. Only her waterproof mascara seemed to sit with any permanency.
As Agnes turned off the bedside lamp and left the bedroom, Lussan started to snore loudly. Agnes went out to Paolo, who was sitting on a chair in the kitchen. On the counter top were a bottle of Absolut Kurant and a bottle of Russian. Beside it was a tall glass with a dried-up slice of lemon. Agnes sat down.
“Has she been like this before?” asked Paolo after a short silence.
“No. I’ve never seen her in such a state.”
“Do you know if something’s happened?”
Agnes shook her head unhappily. “By the way, I saw something,” she said suddenly, rising to walk out into the hall. She came back a few seconds later with Lussan’s bag in her hand. She opened it and took out the little bottle she’d seen earlier. It was some kind of medicine. A red triangle flashed on the label. She gave it to Paolo, who read the wording on the bottle.
“Well, well,” he said slowly. “If she’d scoffed a few of these with her vodka it’s a wonder she could even stand upright.” He closed his hand around the bottle and fell silent. “What kind of fucking doctor is it that prescribes shit like this to someone who’s depressed?” he said at last. His jaw clenched. “Fuck, this is my fault.”
“Your fault?”
“Yes.” He sighed deeply. “We’d agreed that she’d go and talk to someone.…”
“What, like a psychologist?”
Paolo nodded. “It was my idea. I thought she’d get in touch with some mental health clinic. That’s what we were talking about during that dinner when you found us.” He smiled crookedly and shook the bottle in his hand so that the pills rattled. “Here’s the result.”
“But why should she see a psychologist?” Agnes couldn’t work it out. Sure, Lussan had had a difficult childhood, that much she’d understood. But she’d gotten over it. Hadn’t she?
“Because she’s an unhappy person who tries to still her anxieties with alcohol. And with work.” Paolo looked miserably at her. “I tried talking to her, but she just brushed it off. Naturally. Said that she could stop drinking any time she wanted. I almost fell for it. Even though I, if anyone, should’ve known better.” Agnes looked inquiringly at Paolo, who was distractedly biting a fingernail.
“And may I ask why you should’ve known what none of us others would’ve known?”
He started chewing at a fresh nail. Agnes waited. “Because I’ve also been there,” he said eventually. “I could also have been an alcoholic, didn’t you know?”
Agnes slowly shook her head.
“You? You hardly ever drink.” She was confused. What Paolo was saying just didn’t add up.
“No, exactly. But I did once. Lots, even. You know what it’s like in the restaurant business.”
Yeah, Agnes knew. Many a chef it was who stood in the kitchen drinking wine every evening, and many it was who stayed behind after closing and partied. Weekdays and weekends alike.
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