Yesterday's News

by Kajsa Ingemarsson

  “Sure.” Agnes nodded. Then the phone rang again and Kalle waved goodbye to her while he flicked through what had, until now, been an almost unused booking list with the receiver wedged against his shoulder.

  She went out. The high pressure persisted, and it was even hot in the shade. She walked up to Nytorget Green, bought an ice cream, and sat a while on a park bench before getting up to walk on. She had a few hours on her hands before she was due back at work. There was something she had to do first.

  CHAPTER 45

  AGNES PRESSED the little brass button. She was nervous and could feel how the skin of her throat had probably turned all blotchy. She waited for a few seconds. Listened. Nothing. She pressed again. And even though she could clearly hear the sound of the doorbell resounding inside, she knocked, too, just in case. Still nothing. She briefly considered hanging the package on the door, but changed her mind. She wanted to hand it over in person. She lingered for a few seconds, and then knocked one last time. When no one answered this time, too, she walked slowly away.

  CHAPTER 46

  HENRIK AND PERNILLA WERE already there. Filip, too. Paolo was the only one they were waiting for. Kalle was making a circuit of the restaurant, and everyone was talking, laughing. When Agnes arrived they all hugged each other and took turns offering their congratulations. After a while, Paolo appeared and the procedure repeated itself. Kalle disappeared, but returned a minute or so later with a tray of glasses and a bottle of Champagne. Everyone applauded.

  “You have no idea,” he said ceremoniously when the Champagne had been poured and everyone was awaiting the toast, “how I have been longing for this day. And I don’t just mean since I opened this wonderful restaurant, but ever since I first set foot in a restaurant kitchen, or street kitchen maybe I should say.…” The others giggled. Kalle had told them about the hot dog stand where, to his father’s horror, his summer job as a fifteen-year-old had propelled him into the restaurant world. “I want to really thank you for helping me realize this dream. Without you, this review…” he held up the newspaper in front of them, “… would never have been written. I hope you understand that.” He looked seriously at each of them in turn. When he got to Agnes, he held her gaze until she let go. “So here’s to you and to us. And to The Yellow Lemon Tree!” He raised his glass and everyone said “Cheers.” And then they drank.

  Even Paolo took a sip of the Champagne, noted Agnes, but when they put their glasses down, his looked almost untouched.

  “No more for you now,” said Kalle with feigned firmness as he distributed the last few drops. “We have a job to do, but when we close tonight I hope you’ll all feel like staying behind for a while, when I promise to open more of the same!” He held up the empty bottle and everyone nodded and said of course they wanted to stay.

  When the company dispersed to see to their respective duties, Agnes remained seated. Just as she was about to stand Kalle approached her.

  “Can we have a little chat?” he asked. She nodded and followed him into the little office.

  “I know you’ve made your decision, Agnes. And I have full respect and understanding for it. It’s a fantastic chance you’ve been given and I wouldn’t have hesitated one second if I’d been you, but… things have changed since yesterday.” Kalle smiled. Agnes nodded and smiled back. “There’s going to be a lot to do here,” continued Kalle. “I’ve seen it before. It’ll be fun, but hard work.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “I’ll hardly be able to cope on my own.” Agnes was about to protest, but Kalle raised his hand and stopped her. “Not as things are now at least, now that Sofia’s expecting.”

  “Is she pregnant?”

  Now it was Kalle’s turn to nod.

  “Congratulations!”

  “Thanks. It’s fantastic, but I won’t be able to work as much as I have been. Not if I’m going to keep Sofia, that is!” He gave a laugh. “Agnes, I haven’t got much compared with what Mme Brunelle has offered you. But if you could at least consider giving it a thought, my proposal is… for you to become part owner in The Yellow Lemon Tree. On equal terms.”

  “Me, part owner? But I haven’t got any money!”

  “I know. Let’s say that the salary due to you is your capital.”

  “But I haven’t got any salary due.”

  “Oh, yes you have. Loads. You’ve been working like a dog here. If it hadn’t been for you this restaurant wouldn’t have turned out like it has. Literally. I’ll never afford to be able to pay you. So this is my offer. And if you haven’t realized, I’d like to say that I’m not doing this for your sake but for purely selfish reasons. I need your help.” He looked pleadingly at Agnes. She was at a loss for words. She hadn’t been expecting this. Not at all. “Think it over, at least, please,” begged Kalle. “For my sake.”

  “OK.”

  “Thanks. That’s all I ask.” He took hold of her hands in a symbolic gesture and gave them a squeeze. “Well, time to get to work. We’ve got a fully booked restaurant to take care of!”

  Agnes had almost forgotten what it was like to work at such a pace. From six o’clock on, it was all systems go. Her skills as head waitress came in useful, as it was something of a brainteaser to make the best use of all the tables. She seated guests, served drinks, asked if everything tasted all right, helped take orders and carry out food when necessary. She was enjoying herself; this is what it was meant to be like, even if her legs did start to give way from exhaustion toward the end of the evening.

  Lussan showed up around ten, and looked around impressed. The restaurant was still full, even if by that time most of the guests were onto their coffees.

  “I’ve come to congratulate you,” said Lussan when Agnes managed to grab a minute to herself. “Paolo called and told me about the review. I realized it was important, but that you’d get a result like this.…” She nodded toward the dining room. “You’ve really deserved it, I have to say.”

  “Thanks. And how are things with you?”

  “Good. Or rather, OK at least.”

  “Hang on, I’ll be right back,” Agnes hurried off to the register and printed up a bill that she took out to some waiting guests. She then returned to Lussan. “It’ll soon calm down here.”

  “Enjoy the storm, I’m in no hurry.”

  “How did it go with Paolo yesterday?”

  “Good.” Lussan looked at her feet.

  “Are you blushing?”

  “No!”

  “You are!” Agnes laughed. “Have you fallen in love?”

  “No!” Lussan dropped her voice and looked around. And then grinned. “But then again, who knows…?”

  Agnes gave a laugh. “I knew it!” Then she became serious again. “Lussan, there’s so much I want to talk to you about. I feel so stupid that I’ve never appreciated.…”

  Lussan interrupted her. “Oh, stop apologizing! There’s nothing to apologize for!”

  Agnes sighed. “OK, but I still want to talk.” At that moment she noticed one of the guests waving at her. Lussan did, too.

  “There, there, get to work now! We’ll have lots of time to talk.”

  Half an hour later, the restaurant was much emptier. Agnes sat down beside Lussan on an empty barstool. She didn’t quite know how to begin.

  “So, what were you talking about, you and Paolo?” she asked cautiously.

  “About booze. And pills.… Romantic, eh?”

  “Not particularly, I shouldn’t think.” Agnes hesitated. “Interesting, possibly. After all, he knows what he’s talking about.…”

  Lussan looked at her with raised eyebrows. “So you know?”

  “Yes, he told me when we drove you home.”

  Lussan looked relieved. “I’m sorry for being so secretive, but I’d promised not to say anything.”

  “I understand. I should’ve trusted you.” They were silent for a few moments before Lussan continued.

  “Hard to believe he’s had alcohol problems, isn’t it?”

&
nbsp; “Yeah. But he quit.”

  “Not completely.”

  “No. And you?”

  “A month, we’ve said. Totally dry. And then we’ll see.”

  Agnes was surprised at how easily Lussan used the word “we.” As if it was the most natural thing in the world for her and Paolo to help each other out.

  “I’m happy that you’re being helped by Paolo. I should’ve done something myself.”

  “You have done something, Agnes! You’ve tried to talk to me.”

  “Maybe, but I haven’t done anything.…”

  “What could you have done? I didn’t even want to listen to what you were saying, as I knew all along that you were right.”

  “Like when you kept going on at me about Tobias.…”

  “Exactly. Would I have been able to do something that would’ve made you throw him out?”

  “No.…”

  “There you go. You have to work it out for yourself.”

  “Have you worked it out now, then?”

  “I think so. However long that will last. We’ll see if I can get through a month. Four weeks seems a damn long time, to be honest.”

  “You’ll have to take it one day at a time.”

  “Do I have a choice?” Lussan shot her a grin. “That’s how weeks are constructed, you know, days piled up on top of each other.…”

  “I’ll help you, you know that, don’t you? And Paolo.”

  “Yes.” Lussan suddenly looked sad. “Although it’s not only about the booze. In some strange way it actually feels the easiest to deal with.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, what kind of life do I have?” Lussan threw out her hands. “I work all the time. Can’t cope with sitting at home alone for a whole evening. And I just meet smarmy guys who are about as interested in me as they are in a cut-price steak.”

  “Aren’t you being a little hard on yourself?”

  “Maybe I am, but it’s not exactly like Torben, or any of them for that matter, has asked me if I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

  “Would you want to?”

  “In a nice little threesome with wifey…? No thanks!” Lussan grinned. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do.” Agnes hesitated a little before continuing. “We want to be loved for who we are. Warts ’n’ all. Isn’t that so?”

  “That’s it. Exactly. Warts ’n’ all.”

  When the last of the guests had gone, Kalle came out of the kitchen and brought out the promised Champagne. The atmosphere was relaxed, verging on laid back. Paolo and Lussan toasted each other with orange juice. Pernilla had removed her shoes and placed her feet on Henrik’s lap, and Henrik was jokingly complaining about the smell. Filip had cut his thumb earlier in the evening and was fishing for everyone’s sympathy. Kalle called him a wimp and showed off the scars on his hands from various burns and cuts. Agnes felt exhausted and the party mood never quite caught hold of her. She saw how Kalle kept glancing at her, and she understood that he was waiting for an answer. And he’d get it, but all in good time.

  She was the first to leave. Before she did, she saw Lussan snuggle up to Paolo on the sofa. He had his arm around her shoulders. Lussan and Paolo? Why not? He was everything she wasn’t used to, and that was a good start, wasn’t it? A start of something new.

  There was a chill in the evening air. The heat of the day had been too weak to warm up the lucent night, and wrapping her coat around her, Agnes hurried toward the subway.

  CHAPTER 47

  THERE WAS A NOTE on her door. She unfolded it and read Tea? It was half past twelve, but she’d seen from the street that the light was on in the apartment below.

  When she rang on the door, it was opened almost immediately. David smiled when he saw her.

  “Come in!” he said, stepping aside to make way for her.

  She stepped into the hall, which was not much larger than her own. David took her coat and hung it on a hanger. She looked with curiosity into the sitting room. His was also a one-bedroom apartment, but she got the impression that it was a little smaller than hers. Maybe because he had more furniture than she did. A little desk with a computer on it was placed by the window and a gorgeously worn leather sofa and two red floral armchairs were gathered around a little teak coffee table. One wall was full of bookshelves and on the floor was a pile of CDs. The apartment was neat and tidy. She didn’t quite know what she’d been expecting, something more Bohemian perhaps, a bachelor pigsty?

  “Shall we sit in the kitchen?”

  Agnes nodded and followed David in. He put on the kettle that was standing on the worktop. On the drop-leaf table a candle burned in a little brass holder and Agnes sat down on a chair.

  The tea steamed when David poured it out into two large cups. Agnes added a little milk, took a cautious sip, and placed the cup back on the table.

  “Thanks,” she said, looking seriously at David.

  “It’s nothing to thank me for, just a little tea.”

  “Not the tea. The review. It’s you, isn’t it? Lola?”

  David looked embarrassed, and started dithering. “For the moment anyway,” he said at last. “We take turns.”

  Agnes gave a laugh. “You fooled us!”

  “I didn’t mean to.” She could see his brown eyes glittering.

  “Why did it take such a long time?”

  “I wanted to do a good job, be certain about what I was going to write.…”

  Agnes continued to look at him, and he dropped his gaze. “And perhaps I wanted to prolong it.…” He looked up again, and readying himself, said, “But then I happened to let the cat out of the bag the other week and told my boss that you’re my neighbor. She’s very careful to make sure that everything’s done by the book, so I had to promise not to have any more contact with you.”

  “Was that why you…?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry if I was being unfriendly.”

  “In which case you’ve apologized very generously.…”

  “Don’t think that the review’s got anything to do with.… I mean every word I write!”

  “All the better.” They fell silent, looking down at the table and drinking tea. “By the way,” said Agnes suddenly. “I’ve got something for you.” She dashed out into the hall and fetched the package from her bag. “Here you are,” she said, handing it over to David. He looked taken aback.

  “For me? Why?”

  Agnes shrugged. “Because I wanted to.”

  David unwrapped it and read aloud the cover of the CD that had lain inside. “Norah Jones.… Thanks!” He hesitated. “Is it good?”

  Agnes laughed. “You’ll have to decide that for yourself. I just thought you might want to hear that there’s music from this side of the twenty-first century, too.”

  “Shall I put it on?” David got up.

  “If you want.”

  He disappeared into the sitting room and soon the music could be heard in the apartment. David returned to the kitchen and sat down at the table again.

  “I recognize this,” he said after having listened for a while. “It’s good.”

  “Better than Bob Dylan?”

  “I wouldn’t like to say.” David smiled. “I’d have to ask my music coach first.”

  “I suppose you’d better,” said Agnes, smiling back. And they sat in silence again. Agnes didn’t know what to say. So much had happened. So much she hadn’t wanted, so much she hadn’t expected. And now, all of a sudden, here she was in David’s kitchen in the middle of the night. Was this what Lussan had been talking about? Was this the turning point?

  “Listen…,” said Agnes cautiously at last. “How long was that injunction to last? Are you breaking any rules now, or what?”

  David looked serious, but again Agnes could see the glint in his brown eyes. “She didn’t specify,” he said slowly, “so I guess it’s a matter of interpretation.”

  “And what’s your interpretation?”

  He looked down at h
is watch. “Well, today’s papers have already been printed so I guess we have to take it that we can’t influence history any more.…”

  “Does that mean that you and I are yesterday’s news, then?” Agnes looked at David. They smiled at each other.

  “No,” he said, and reached a tentative hand out across the table. “I really hope not.”

  Agnes hesitated a second before taking the proffered hand. It was warm. “Good,” she said slowly. “Because I think I like this story.”

  LOTS OF THANKS!

  This book is partly set in a restaurant. However, no matter how much I might like to go out for meals, my experience of the work that goes on behind the scenes is limited. So I’d like to say a big thanks to Claes Westfelt, who used his knowledge of “rushes” and broilers to guide me through this fragrant yet hectic world.

  Thanks also to Malin Westfelt for being such an inspiration and support during my five years as a novelist.

  I’d also like to thank my good friend Karin Nordlander for being who she is. Constructive criticism is all well and good, but not when surrendering, with trembling hands, your first twenty pages for perusal. Then it’s just overwhelming praise you’re after. Thanks for being so good at it, Karin.

  If Karin was my “good cop,” then Lasse was definitely my “bad cop.” An equally important task he had, but horribly thankless. Lasse was the one who read and grunted, and said unpleasant things like “This doesn’t make sense,” “I don’t get it,” or “Are you sure this really works?” Thanks for having the guts to put me in a bad mood even though you live with me. Your grunts were invaluable. I love you.

  Thanks to the publisher, Forum, with whom I have enjoyed a good working relationship around this book. Without Bengt Nordin and Maria Enberg, this book would never have ventured outside Sweden. A big thanks to you all for making it happen.

  And finally, thanks to my mom, who, apart from being my biggest fan, always lets me know that I’m alright.