Authors: Hans Koppel
Anna closed the car door and waved her thanks, then walked towards the entrance. Two men were struggling with unwieldy golf bags in the boot of a car. Sissela and Trude were standing by the reception and had just been given their keys.
‘See you in ten minutes,’ Sissela chirped, then disappeared with an extended
ciao
.
Anna checked in and went up to her room. She had a clear view of the town and the water. She put her blouse for the evening on a hanger, changed her shoes, picked up a notebook and the printout of an article proposal that she’d put together the week before.
‘There’s coffee in the thermos,’ Trude said, when Anna came into the meeting room.
‘Thanks, think I’ll take a mineral water instead.’
Anna helped herself and sat down at the table.
‘Isn’t it lovely?’ Sissela said, looking out.
‘I do like the Grand,’ Trude agreed. ‘There’s never any problems.’
‘You know how it all works,’ Anna chimed in.
‘Considering how many times we’ve been here, that’s not so strange,’ Sissela said, and straightened her back. ‘So, what do you say? Shall we just get started?’
By half past twelve, the female management troika of
Family Journal
had planned every edition until Easter and could go to lunch with a clear conscience.
Trude routinely inspected the men on offer. If anyone caught her attention she would get up immediately and go over to the sumptuous buffet, where she would spend ages helping herself. All the men in the dining room would stare until their eyes popped out. It was a performance, Trude couldn’t help it. It was deeply ingrained in her. All the attention she had received since puberty had done nothing to satisfy her need for confirmation. To the contrary, every longing glance simply dug deeper into her bottomless pit. Pit? It was an abyss, a black hole, a minor continental drift.
Anna couldn’t understand it. The only thing that actually prevented Trude from being more unfaithful was her beauty. It frightened men. Only the dregs dared try their hand, the ones who had nothing to lose.
The exception to the rule was Trude’s husband. Successful, attractive and a considerate husband as well as a fantastic father. As far as Anna could tell, he left nothing to be desired. And what’s more, he was neither grumpy nor felt sorry for himself, unlike most other men.
‘And what about the features page?’ Sissela asked, when they had retired to the veranda, full and happy. ‘How’s that early death series doing?’
Sissela was talking about ‘And Then the Game Was Over’ articles, which were essentially extended obituaries of people who had died too young. Their nearest and dearest were given the opportunity to talk about their loss and grief, following a sudden and unexpected death. The Stockholm-based freelancer Calle Collin, who wrote most of the articles, used just the right combination of sentimentality and positivity, and the readership figures spoke for themselves.
‘It’s doing well,’ Anna said.
‘The last two were a bit too old.’
‘The people who died, you mean?’
‘Yes, and it was cancer in both cases, wasn’t it? Cancer is a bit like the flu these days. Are there no other interesting diseases?’
‘I’ll check with Calle.’
‘It doesn’t even need to be an illness,’ Sissela continued. ‘It could be an accident. Or a natural catastrophe. The main thing is that they died young, and preferably under dramatic circumstances.’
‘Okay.’
‘But the pitch is good, bloody good. He’s not interested in doing any celebrity stuff?’
‘He wasn’t the last time I spoke to him. But I can check again.’
‘Good. Do that. And what about our life stories…?’
They finished at four o’clock. Trude went up to her room for a rest, Sissela declared that she intended to have a long soak in a warm bath, and Anna went for a walk.
She followed the street closest to the water, out towards the cliffs, which were being gradually swallowed by the dark. The best houses stood empty after August. There were no cars or people. And yet the odd light shone here and there inside the houses. Anna guessed they were on timers and didn’t fool anyone, not least any local kids in search of a drink, who had the decency only to smash up the furniture of stingy townies who hadn’t had the sense to leave a couple of bottles in the cupboard. A kind of local tax that outsiders had to pay for the right to roam around in towelling robes in summer, to feel real and greet other similarly clad people from Stockholm with air kisses and falsetto voices.
‘Oh, hi! Fancy meeting you here!’
Mölle was a summer place. Could never be anything else. It was too far from Helsingborg. You could buy the same sort of property for about the same price in Hittarp, Domsten and Viken, where the commute into town was less than half an hour, and people lived there all the year round, unlike Mölle.
Anna decided that she’d had enough of an adventure and turned around. The southwest wind that had been on her back felt raw against her face and she pulled her coat in at the collar. By the time she got back to the hotel, she was totally windswept. She switched on the TV for company and stepped into the shower.
The waiter spent ages fussily garnishing the fish dish with some expensive drops that were supposed to be sauce. He drew a brief outline of the fish’s life, which had apparently been happy right up until its inevitable demise. And, as with all posh restaurants, it neither tasted particularly good nor was particularly filling. When they’d finished eating, Sissela disappeared out for a cigarette and Trude and Anna went to the bar to order Irish coffees. Two middle-aged men in golf gear burst in, drunk and happy. The ever-attentive Trude sent them furtive, doe-eyed glances over the top of her glass, which made them squirm.
What was expected of them? An invitation should never be rejected out of hand. It would be unnatural and self-disqualifying as they were now in close company with a business card burning in their pocket.
The bait was laid and Trude played the innocent.
‘Not again,’ Anna said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know very well what I mean.’
‘Ach.’
Sissela came back, reeking of cigarettes.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Trude,’ Anna sighed, exasperated. ‘She’s at it again.’
‘But there’s no one here,’ Sissela said, looking around.
She spotted the men, deep in discussion as to the best strategy.
Trude was too attractive, it made them uncertain. Sissela looked at her colleagues.
‘Bagsy the one with the hair,’ she said, and waved over the waiter so she could order.
Anna gasped like a fish, Sissela gave a crooked smile.
‘I get no attention at home. A glass of red wine, please.’
Sissela put her hand on Anna’s shoulder and burst out laughing.
‘You should see your face. We’re having you on, didn’t you realise? Oops, look smart, they’re coming over.’
‘Hi, can we join you?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘My name’s Sven, and this is Olof.’
‘Hello.’
They shook hands and said their names.
‘So,’ the man ventured. ‘Are you here with work?’
‘Yes, we’re having a scheduling day. We usually come here.’
‘Scheduling?’
‘We work for
Family Journal
.’
‘The magazine?’
Sissela nodded.
‘Excellent magazine,’ the man said, spontaneously.
Sissela straightened her back.
‘Thank you,’ she said, as if the magazine were all her own work.
‘Just the right mix, lots to read. My mother gets it.’
Sissela deflated. The man noticed and adjusted his tactic.
‘I’ve thought about subscribing myself, but my wife only reads fashion and interior design magazines. It’s a shame really, because
Family Journal
beats them all hands down.’
He looked like he genuinely meant what he said.
‘Lots of people think it’s just for mumsies,’ Sissela sighed.
‘But you have male readers as well, don’t you?’
Sissela shrugged. ‘Men flick through it,’ she said. ‘But generally they’re most interested in the crossword. What about yourselves? What do you do? It was Sven, wasn’t it?’
He nodded.
‘We run an advertising company, a small one. It’s just the two of us and another colleague.’
‘Any good clients?’
‘Yes, actually.’
He mentioned a clothes chain and a travel agency.
‘We’re here to celebrate our first anniversary, play a little golf, calling it a meeting.’
Sissela laughed.
‘Might have guessed that you worked in advertising,’ she said. ‘It’s hard to tell you apart.’
‘That’s easy enough. I’m Sven, S as in suave, and he’s Olof, O as in ordinary.’
‘But you’re wearing quite an ordinary suit,’ Sissela joked.
‘You’re right, it’s not easy.’
Ten minutes later, Anna had discovered that the men weren’t as pathetic as drunk men in hotels usually are. They actually listened. One of them was quite funny. But it did follow the usual pattern. Anna and Sissela got most of the attention, Trude stood beside them, unobtainable in her beauty. Men seldom knew how to behave in her presence. But everything changed when the third man turned up.
‘Aha, here he is. This is Erik, Erik Månsson, our new star.’
Even Trude was taken aback. Erik, the advertising company’s new copywriter, had gone up to his room to try to remove a red-wine stain from his shirt, without much success. So he was now dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, an outfit that accentuated his muscles and showed that, more than anything, he was fit. Trude’s beauty had no effect on him: she probably looked like all the women he went out with. And what was more, he was far younger than the others.
Anna sighed to herself. She could image the next couple of hours. Sissela would giggle like a studio audience at jokes that weren’t funny, wind her hair round her finger and lick the bottom of her front teeth with tip of her tongue, she would do all she could to spark his interest and then, if she did succeed, against all odds, she would pull out at the last moment like the prick-teaser she was. While Trude wouldn’t hesitate for a moment if the opportunity arose.
Anna was wrong. It turned out to be a good evening. The flirting wore thin after a while and instead wallets and purses were pulled out and photos of children and spouses passed around. Erik, who was single and didn’t have any children, rolled his eyes at all this, but they were beyond conference flings, they were mature men enjoying themselves and were good company.
‘So you’re from Stockholm?’ Sissela asked Erik.
‘Yes.’
‘Which agencies did you work for there?’ she continued, knowledgeably.
‘None,’ Erik replied.
‘Oh, so you’re completely wet behind the ears?’
‘Yep.’
‘What did you do before?’
‘Served behind the fish counter in a supermarket.’
Sissela threw back her head and laughed.
‘Seriously?’
Erik nodded. Sissela couldn’t hide the smile playing on her lips.
‘I’ll bet you smelt good on a Saturday night,’ she said, smoothly.
‘Haha, I’ve never heard that one before,’ Erik said, wearily, dismissing her as yet another witty Gothenburger.
The atmosphere changed and Anna slipped out to the toilet. When she came out, Erik was standing there, waiting for his turn. There wasn’t much room and just as she was about to squeeze past, he kissed her. She barely had time to register it.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and slipped into the toilet.
Anna went back to the others and sat down. The atmosphere was relaxed again. Erik came back and sat down opposite her. A quick questioning look, but otherwise nothing. Sissela went out to smoke, and the older men decided to keep her company. Social smokers, cigarillos, to be on the safe side. Trude had to go to the ladies’ room. Anna was left on her own with Erik. He looked at her.
‘I’m in room eighteen,’ he said. ‘You’re welcome later, if you’d like company.’
‘I’m married,’ Anna replied. ‘I’ve got a ten-year-old daughter.’
‘I know,’ Erik said. ‘You showed us the pictures.’
The smokers came back. Erik stood up.
‘Well, I’m think I’m going to go to bed.’
Trude came back from the toilet. She had fixed her make-up, fluffed up her hair, tightened her bra and, just to be sure, opened another button on her shirt.
‘Where’s Erik?’
Maybe it was the feeling of being the chosen one, the power had gone to her head. Anna wasn’t used to that kind of attention. Or maybe a reaction to the fact that her colleagues always said she was so proper. Or perhaps it was pure lust, a momentary aberration.
‘God, you’re so lame,’ Sissela said, when Anna got up to leave a quarter of an hour later.
Neither she nor Trude would ever have guessed.
Anna went up to her room, brushed her teeth and stared at herself in the mirror.
‘Go to bed,’ she said to herself.
She took out her phone. Magnus had called. She looked at the clock – quarter past eleven – and phoned him. He answered, half asleep.
‘Sorry, did I wake you?’
‘No problem.’
‘We were sitting in the bar,’ Anna told him. ‘Met some golfers. They bought us a drink.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Is Hedda asleep?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Sorry I didn’t ring earlier.’
‘Darling, I was asleep.’
‘Okay, okay. Sorry. Just wanted to call and say I love you.’
‘And me you. Sleep well. See you tomorrow.’
‘Yes.’
She hung up and took the charger out of her bag. The telephone buzzed when she plugged it in. A summer snap of her husband and daughter flashed up before the screen went dark and the phone switched to idle mode.
Anna looked around. The room was like any other hotel room. Bed, wall-mounted TV, a desk where no one sat on the chair, which was only used as a dumping ground for clothes. On the table, a faux leather file of information about WiFi and breakfast times, and some local tourist brochures. A small bathroom with an extra roll of toilet paper, and a full soap container on the wall.
He tasted like strawberries. Or something. Early teenage lipgloss. Maybe she was imagining it, making the association because he was so much younger, a kind of cerebral red light. She wasn’t damn well going to do anything she’d regret later. She wasn’t even drunk, certainly not enough for it to be used in her defence.
She breathed into her hand and sniffed, picked up the key and went to room eighteen. She glanced quickly in both directions and knocked on the door. He opened it.
‘I thought you weren’t going to come,’ he said.
His voice made it sound like a nice surprise. He stepped to one side and held open the door. Anna went in, she didn’t want to stand in the corridor and risk anyone seeing her.
‘Well, I just wanted to say that I’m not coming,’ she said.
‘Okay.’
‘I don’t do things like this, I’m happily married. We have a daughter. But I’ve told you already.’
‘Would you like something to drink? Wine?’
‘No thank you. I’m going to go. I am.’
Erik looked at her, nodded.
‘Okay.’
He didn’t say anything else, didn’t try to get her to stay. Anna was restless, shifted the weight on her feet, looked around. The room was identical to her own.
‘Can I just ask something?’ she finally blurted out.
‘Of course.’
‘Why did you kiss me?’
‘Because I wanted to.’
‘So you think it’s okay just to kiss anyone you feel like?’
‘And because I thought you wanted it too.’
Anna nodded, tried to fill her lungs with air. Her breathing was uneven, almost agitated. Erik took a step towards her.
‘No obligations.’
She turned her head, looked down at the floor, felt his hand on her hip.