This time it was Agnes’s turn to hug Kalle. “What are you going to do, then?”
“I’ll be all right. I’ll have to get a job as a kitchen manager again.” He gave a little dry laugh. “I guess Sofia will be happy. She’s not seen that much of me recently. Running your own business takes up a lot of your time.”
“You’ll have to open a new restaurant,” Agnes said by way of comfort.
“I suppose I’ll have to. In ten, fifteen years when I’ve got enough money together again.…”
They stood in silence for a while. There wasn’t much to be said. “Well, I’ve got to get cracking on this,” said Kalle, pointing expressively at his Sabatier knife and the heap of unpeeled shallots lying in front of him on the counter top. “If we’re going down, we’ll do so with all guns blazing!” He smiled crookedly.
“Do you want me to stay?”
“No, it’s your day off. Do something fun instead. Celebrate.…” He nudged her with his elbow to get her to pull herself together.
“I don’t exactly feel in the mood for celebrating,” mumbled Agnes.
“Come on, things’ll work out! Even if they do seem a little gloomy at the moment.… Things happen that you don’t want, that you haven’t planned. And it’s frustrating but then something else happens instead. Maybe even something better.…”
“You sound like Lussan.”
“Is that so?” Kalle laughed. “Well, I got to open my restaurant. And it’s been great fun. Now I guess I’ll have to lick my wounds for a bit and try to work out what went wrong. And then we’ll see what happens. It’s not a problem, Agnes. It’s sad, really, really sad to have to close the restaurant, but life goes on. There, there, go and celebrate now! I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As soon as Agnes got home she called Lussan. She got her on her cell. When she heard the familiar voice, she gave a little shiver of relief.
“How are things? How are you?” she asked quickly.
“As well as I deserve, I suppose,” answered Lussan. “It feels like I went bowling with my head last night.”
“Where are you?”
“At Muffin’s. I’m trying to cure myself with a huge caffe latte and a ginormous muffin filled with toffee.”
“Is it working?”
“I don’t know. But as they say, the sum of vices is constant.…”
Agnes hesitated. Lussan suddenly sounded so normal, as if yesterday had been just another night out that warranted no more than a few minutes’ chat on the phone. It would be easy to hang up, to laugh with her and carry on as if nothing had happened. Agnes had to make some effort to conjure up the image of the limp Lussan, the vodka bottle, and the bottle of pills.
“Lussan… I was really worried about you yesterday.” She waited for the dismissive laugh, a jokey excuse, but Lussan fell silent. In the background Agnes could hear people talking and laughing at the outdoor tables.
“I can understand that.”
“Do you want me to come over so we can talk?”
“Well.… maybe not just now. I’m here with Paolo.”
“OK.” Agnes felt foolish. And she was meant to be some kind of best friend. But she’d gone to lunch and been given a flashy job offer instead of taking care of Lussan. Now Paolo had done it. Now it was he who sat there comforting and talking seriously to her. It felt strange, but she was nonetheless glad that Lussan wasn’t alone.
“We’ll talk tomorrow. I don’t know how much seriousness I can put up with today. Paolo’s lecture isn’t anywhere near as digestible as toffee muffins.…” She laughed and Agnes could see in her mind’s eye how she looked at Paolo.
“OK,” repeated Agnes. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Call me if there’s anything you want, OK?”
“Of course. And Agnes.…” Lussan sounded slightly troubled, hesitating before continuing. “Thanks for last night. And for the note. Seeing it made me happy. And thanks for setting Paolo onto me.”
Agnes smiled. “Don’t mention it.”
“You’re a good friend.”
“You, too.”
CHAPTER 43
AGNES PACED BACK and forth in her little apartment. She felt restless, confined. It was hot outside now, summer definitely. Well, early summer at least. The school terms were coming to an end next week, and town was teeming with young people in student caps. Boisterous, self-confident, on the threshold of life. As if life was an institution awaiting them: a university, a job, a trip abroad, a family. As if it was all so simple.
When the phone rang she hurried to answer it. Maybe it was Lussan? It wasn’t.
“Hi, it’s Madde,” said a sulky voice down the other end.
“Hi.” They hadn’t spoken to each other since the fight. It was usually Agnes who took the initiative to make up when they’d fallen out over something, but this time the resistance had been too great. What’s more, she wasn’t looking forward to admitting that Madde had been right.
“How’s it going?”
“Fine.” Both were on their guard, stiff.
“Listen… I just wanted to say sorry.”
“Did you?”
“About what I said about Tobias. It was stupid of me.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Agnes sighed.
“What do you mean?”
“It wasn’t stupid of you.”
Madde was baffled. “No?”
“It’s over.”
“Again?”
“No, not again. Not like before. It’s over for real now.”
“You’re joking! What happened?”
“I’m not going to tell you, because you’ll just say I told you so.”
“I won’t, I promise,” said Madde eagerly.
“He was unfaithful again.”
“The bastard.”
“Come on, cut that out.”
“OK.” Madde paused. “Can’t I even say congratulations?”
“No.”
“Pity. It would’ve been apt.”
Agnes couldn’t help laughing. “That’s my sister.”
“But he is a bastard, isn’t he!”
“Yes, he is. But that’s enough now.”
“OK.”
“I suppose I said a few stupid things, too. Sorry. I don’t think that Jonas is boring.”
“That’s just as well, because if I told him, I don’t think he’d want you to be godmother to our kid.”
“Are you joking? You want me to be godmother?” That really was a pleasant surprise. It wasn’t as if she was longing for kids herself, but since she’d found out that Madde was pregnant, she’d at least thought about it a few times. What it would be like to have a little baby. It wasn’t on the cards for her at the moment of course, but still.… Getting to be godmother to your sister’s child seemed to be a step in the right direction.
“We’ve been talking about it. If there ever will be a child, that is. November feels like an eternity away.”
“It’ll go really quickly! In the meantime, you’ll have to get decorating the nursery.”
“So you want to, then?”
“Be a godmother? Of course! I’m over the moon that you asked me! Although I’m going to start thinking that November’s an eternity away now, too.”
“Maybe you’ll get a sympathetic pregnancy as well, just like Jonas. He’s already gone up twenty-two pounds. I mean, that’s almost more than me!” Madde laughed. Agnes, too.
“I can really see you in ten years. The little family in the terraced house. In matching sweatsuits, Jonas with a rather becoming middle-age spread under his top, you in newly permed hair. The kids.…”
“The kids?”
“Yes, at least two or three of them. Maybe more.”
Madde laughed again. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Where will you be in ten years’ time?”
Agnes fell silent, thinking. “No idea, to be honest. I wish I knew.”
“That’d be boring, though.”
“Yes, maybe.…”
Agnes was grateful to Madde for changing the subject. “Will you be coming to visit us soon?”
“I’m working this weekend. Next week, perhaps. Things look like… they’ll have calmed down by then.”
“Do that.”
“How’s Dad, by the way?” Agnes felt slightly guilty. She phoned her father quite often, and he her – but it was weeks since she’d last been there.
“I think it’s going quite well. Or relatively. Obviously he’s sad and I think he’s aged, but he’s got his garden and his computer. It goes up and down, I suppose.”
“And you?”
“Do you mean about Mom?”
“Yes.”
“I miss her terribly. It feels so incredibly sad that she’s never going to see my child.”
“I understand. I miss her, too.…” They both fell silent. Neither of them needed to say more, they knew each other’s thoughts anyway. Madde was the first to rally.
“Well, time to make myself useful,” she said. “Hope to see you next week.”
“Yes. Thanks for calling. Bye.”
“Bye. And Agnes.…”
“Yes?”
“Congratulations!”
CHAPTER 44
SHE’D PONDERED OVER things the whole evening. Turned all the arguments inside out. Thought things through. Weighed things back and forth. Was there really any reason for her to turn it down? No. The answer was simple. Kalle was right. She’d been given the chance of a lifetime. In her business, it could hardly get any better. And as a nice little bonus she couldn’t help thinking about how sweet the revenge would be on Gérard if she suddenly turned up as an employee at Brunelle & Hubert’s new luxurious Stockholm restaurant.
Yes, she’d made her mind up. Fate had shut one door and opened another. All she had to do was step through.
She’d gone to bed early, and had actually slept really well. Tired, of course, after the night before and all that had happened to Lussan, but also pleased. Pleased at having made a decision. A good decision at that. Now maybe she could bring some order to her life, too.
When the phone rang at around ten in the morning she’d already been awake for two hours. Rested, but still in her robe.
“Are you awake?” It was Kalle. He sounded alert despite having been up working all night.
“Have been for hours.” She took a deep breath. “I know why you’re calling. I’ve made a decision.…”
“No!”
Agnes was puzzled. “Yes. About the job.”
“No. I don’t want to hear it.”
“But yesterday you said.…”
“I know what I said, but first you have to do me a favor, before you say anything.”
“Do I?”
“Go out and buy a paper.”
“But.…”
“Please, don’t fuss. Just do it.”
“OK.”
Agnes dressed herself slowly. When she was ready, she shut her door and walked down the stairs, looking askance at David’s apartment as she passed by. Inside it was silent.
Down in the newsstand she picked up the morning paper from the rack in front of the counter. The evening editions had already come out, and so she bought those, too. Just in case.
One of them was carrying a front-page story about some reality show celebrity having had a failed nose job. The other was running a scoop on fake nude photos of singer Carola.
As she paid, she noticed that her hand was trembling slightly. Once out on the street she stopped and took a deep breath. And then she began walking home with the newspapers clamped tightly under her arm.
She laid the newspapers out on the kitchen table and started to make some tea. While she waited for the water to boil she took out some bread, butter, and cheese. The marmalade jar was almost empty, but if she scraped the bottom she’d have enough at least for one slice.
When her breakfast was ready, she sat down at the table. She looked at the papers and then picked up the top one. The reality show celebrity had obviously been photographed with a high-powered zoom, and her face was all bandages and sunglasses. Agnes flicked slowly through the paper. Then she put it to one side and picked up the next. The doctored pictures of Carola had been published on the Internet. The famous singer was upset, hurt, and shocked. Agnes looked at the faked raunchy images with which the newspaper had been kind enough to illustrate the article, and thought that she should rather have felt flattered if someone, God for example, had mounted her head on such a body.
When she failed to find anything of interest, she put that paper to one side, too. Now there was only one left on the table. Agnes picked it up, and tried to browse nonchalantly through it, aware, however, that she couldn’t deceive herself forever. She knew which page she should be looking for, and should have gone to it immediately. Her heart pounded harder at each page she turned. And then, there it was. Half a page, as usual. No pictures and no little forks or smileys or plus signs to indicate a rating. Just text. And a heading. “Sour on Skånegatan.”
Agnes gulped. She hardly dared to read any further, and had to force herself to skim through the brief introduction.
Few guests seem to have discovered the relatively new restaurant The Yellow Lemon Tree on one of Stockholm’s main culinary thoroughfares. This is a pity, for they have missed the ambitious fresh Mediterranean fare served here.
Her heartbeat accelerated as she continued to read.
The restaurant is situated half a step below street level, and Lemon is the operative word, from the large bowls of the fruit in the windows to the bright yellow walls. The atmosphere is warm and informal, overly at times, but the staff are friendly and helpful.
You could hardly call the menu at The Yellow Lemon Tree innovative, as Mediterranean-inspired food is something we have seen more than enough of in Stockholm ever since the eighties – and serving up seafood, fish, and chicken in garlic, olive oil, and fresh herbs is far from exciting.
Agnes tensed up. She was staring so intently at the text that her eyes stung when she blinked.
And yet this little local eatery still manages to breathe new life into the concept. With a blend of outstanding ingredients, just the right measure of imagination, and a generous helping of kitchen know-how, even a classic so typically abused by restaurants as bruschetta, garlic bread with tomato concassé, is transformed into a pleasure to eye and palate alike.
Although most of the inspiration has been taken from Italy, like the delicious fresh tagliatelle with scampi and creamy sauce seasoned with saffron, other Mediterranean countries have also been allowed to make their mark. Take the Spanish mini tapas with Manchego cheese and sardines, or the succulent lamb kebabs from Morocco, lovingly spiced with cumin and served with a spoonful of wonderfully refreshing yogurt. Its menu has also been influenced by the neo-Asian wave, represented primarily by Thailand and Japan. The delightful scallops, perfectly fried, are accompanied by a cold noodle salad served with chili, fresh coriander, and dry-roasted sesame seeds, and can be enjoyed as either a starter or a main course. An excellent example of a successful crossover. The beef skewers with a satay-like aromatic sauce sprinkled with finely chopped walnuts carries the scent of Asia and also tastes out of this world.
The fried chicken with thyme gravy and baked vegetables is a great value main course. Juicy slices of chicken fillet and crispy seasonal vegetables. The fish soup with scampi and angler fish might be a more expensive choice, but this too is excellent value – although they could have skipped the shrimps, which seem somewhat superfluous in the context.
The rosemary-scented tuna fish with asparagus risotto could be a real hit, but tuna is difficult and not even the chefs in this kitchen always manage the grilling.
Desserts at The Yellow Lemon Tree are also well-conceived and well-prepared. The mango sorbet with aniseed is a combination that is as unexpected as it is successful, as is the raspberry panacotta. The house tiramisu is deliciously creamy and has a distinct flavor of Marsala wine. The mocha broulee is a
lso a good choice. All in all, the kitchen plays safe. Nothing wrong with that, if you do it well. And that’s what they do at The Yellow Lemon Tree, a restaurant that is poised to become a classic in Stockholm’s culinary repertoire.
The article came to an end, with only the brief signature Lola at the bottom. Agnes ran her eyes over the page. Words like delicious, successful, perfectly, and classic leapt up from the text.
She picked up her phone and dialed Kalle’s number. Sofia answered, and said that Kalle had left for the restaurant. Agnes could try there, he’d probably already arrived.
Agnes did as she said, but the line was busy. She waited a few minutes and tried again. Still busy. After a few more attempts with the same result she pulled on her jacket and sneakers.
On the way she sat grinning stupidly to herself in the black windows of the subway, thinking about how proud her mother would have been with her. When she arrived at the restaurant Kalle was there talking on the phone. He waved. After a few seconds he ended the call and walked over to her. They hugged each other tightly and laughed. Said things like “it’s totally unbelievable” and other meaningless babble. Congratulated each other. Then the phone rang again. Kalle threw his arms out.
“It’s been like this ever since I arrived. The phone just keeps ringing and ringing and ringing! People making reservations. This evening got booked up in ten minutes. We’ve got reservations for as much as ten days ahead.” He lifted the receiver. Another booking. When he hung up, he immediately lifted the receiver again. “I’ve got to call in Pernilla and Filip. We need all the back-up we can get tonight.”
She heard him talk to them, telling them about the review, convincing them that it was true. Laughing, bubbling. When he was done he turned toward Agnes, who had sat down at one of the tables. “You don’t need to be here now,” he said. “But if you can come in a little early, say around four, it’d be great. The others will be coming then, too.”
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