The Cruel Stars of the Night - Kjell Eriksson [92]
Two rooms were full of Alice Hindersten’s belongings. They were of little value and would only fetch a couple of thousand at an auction, Laura thought. The objects of the greatest value were most likely the old Jugend-patterned flower vases and a shaving mirror with a light wooden frame, probably birch. These things had been stored upstairs for as long as Laura could remember. The last few objects had been carried up shortly after her mother’s death. A great deal had probably been thrown away.
For the first time since she had started to clean, Laura became hesitant. She could hardly stand to touch anything, much less throw them into the container.
She sat down on a stickback chair and looked at that which had been Alice’s life. Laura knew that the gigantic America-trunk that took up almost a square meter contained dolls and other toys. Once she and Alice had looked through the trunk together. What had attracted Laura the most that time were the paper bookmarks from Alice’s childhood. Some worn and frayed at the edges, others well-preserved and carefully packed into different envelopes, depending on their theme. What Laura remembered above all was the envelope with angels.
She opened the lid and breathed in the smells of her childhood. Numb with the pain of longing she picked aimlessly through the objects. The old doll with the lace dress had belonged to her grandmother and was probably one hundred years old. The dress looked moth-eaten and in addition it had a large tear on the front, a “skorsa” as Alice would have said. Laura wrapped the doll in her arms, rocked it, and mumbled some words of comfort.
Laura lingered in the room for over an hour, unable to carry anything down and throw it away.
It was getting dark when she returned to the first floor. Her hunger had somehow strangely abated, but her throat was dry from all the dust and she opened a new bottle of wine.
When she had downed half a glass there was another ring at the door. She put the glass down with care and tiptoed into the hall.
“Hello,” she heard someone call out in a low voice and she ran up, turned the lock, and threw the door open.
“You came,” she whispered.
Stig Franklin brushed past her into the hall.
“We have to talk,” he said and scrutinized her half-naked body. “You’re not wearing very much. Aren’t you cold?”
Laura shook her head, elated and smiling.
“Are you hungry?” she asked and in that moment became ravenously hungry herself. It was as if his visit had awakened her from a kind of sleep mode and now when her bodily functions were switched on the hunger immediately returned.
“No,” he said curtly.
“Surely you can have a glass of wine.”
“I can’t stay long.”
“That’s what you said last time,” Laura said with a smile.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Only half a glass.”
She was familiar with his views on alcohol. Jessica had inculcated Stig with ambivalence and guilt.
“It’s a Valpolicella that you have never tasted, I promise.”
“No thanks, I’m good.”
Laura immediately went into the bedroom.
Stig remained standing in the hallway, unsure about how to proceed with what he had to say. He looked around in the increasingly bare house.
“What are you doing?” he yelled. “Are you getting rid of everything?” He received no answer. He had an hour, then he had arranged to meet Jessica in town.
Laura returned, now in an old dressing gown.
“I have to shower,” she said and before he had time to react she went into the bathroom.
Stig walked into the living room. He sat down in the only armchair left but got up again just as fast and walked into the kitchen, looked until he found a clean glass, poured out a little wine, and sat down at the kitchen table.
He felt it would be easier to talk to Laura here. He took a sip and had the feeling that Jessica saw him. He took another sip. How would Laura react? He prepared himself for the worst but it had to be ended. Jessica was no dimwit. She would soon find out about his visits and then things would be untenable