Фредрик Бакман - Anxious People

Anna-Lena described a square in the air with her hands like a mime artist trying to say “apartment.” The bank robber groaned in resignation at the pair of them.

“Why would I… you can’t just… are you suggesting that I’m trying to steal the apartment?”

Roger seemed to recognize how ridiculous that sounded when it was said out loud, but seeing as Roger was a man who was never wrong even when he was obviously wrong, he clarified: “Now look here! It’s got huge potential for renovation!”

Anna-Lena stood behind him with an imaginary hammer, waving it in the air by way of illustration.

The bank robber coughed quietly again, and could feel the beginnings of a headache, then said: “Can’t you just… lie down? Just for a little while? I wasn’t trying… I mean, I was going to rob a bank, but I had no intention… look, this isn’t what I had in mind!”

For various reasons the silence that followed was so complete that the only sound was the bank robber’s sobs. That’s never a comfortable combination, someone crying with a pistol in their hand, so none of the others was entirely sure how to react. Ro nudged Julia and muttered: “Now see what you’ve done,” and Julia muttered back: “It was you who…” Roger turned to Anna-Lena and whispered: “It really does have immense potential for renovation,” and Anna-Lena replied quickly: “Yes, it really does, doesn’t it? You’re absolutely right! But… isn’t that damp I can smell? Mold, even?”

The bank robber was still sobbing. None of the others felt like looking in that direction, because, as already mentioned, it’s hard to feel comfortable with armed expressions of emotion, so in the end it was Estelle who cautiously padded over. Either she didn’t know any better, or she most definitely did. It might seem a little odd that Estelle hasn’t been mentioned very often up till now in this story, not because Estelle is easy to forget about, but because she’s very hard to remember. Estelle has what might be called a transparent personality. Eighty-seven years old, with a body as gnarled and crooked as a piece of ginger, she slipped over to the bank robber and asked: “Are you all right, dear?” When the bank robber didn’t answer, she went on babbling in a singularly untroubled manner: “My name’s Estelle, I’m here to take a look at the apartment on behalf of my daughter. My husband, Knut, is parking the car. It isn’t at all easy to find anywhere to park around here, and I don’t suppose it will be any easier now that the street’s full of police cars. Sorry, now I’ve made you worried. I didn’t mean it was your fault that Knut couldn’t find anywhere to park, of course. Are you feeling all right? Would you like a glass of water?”

The pistol didn’t seem to bother Estelle, but on the other hand she seemed to be such a kind person that if she were murdered she’d probably have taken it as a compliment that someone had noticed her. Using a paper handkerchief to dry the tears, the bank robber said quietly: “Yes, please.”

“We’ve got limes!” Ro called out, pointing at the bowl on the coffee table, full of at least a couple dozen. Limes seemed to be such a popular adornment at apartment viewings that it’s tempting to think that if real estate agents were banned, the surface of the earth would become covered with such a thick layer of limes that only young people with very small knives and an inexplicable fondness for Mexican beer would survive.

Estelle fetched a glass of water, and the bank robber raised the mask slightly so as to be able to drink it.

“Is that better?” Estelle asked.

The bank robber nodded gently and handed the glass back to her.

“I’m… I’m very sorry about all this.”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear, it doesn’t matter,” Estelle said. “I have to say, I think it was smart of you not to have come here to steal the apartment. Because that wouldn’t have been very clever, would it, because the police would have known where to find you straightaway! Was it the bank across the street that you were planning to rob? Isn’t that one of those cashless banks these days?”

“Yes. Thanks. I noticed that,” the bank robber replied through clenched teeth.

“Smart!” Zara declared.

The bank robber turned toward her, losing control altogether and shouting the way you do when the kids start arguing in the back of the car again: “I didn’t know , okay? Anyone can make a mistake !”

Roger, whose instinct whenever anyone shouted, regardless of context, was always to shout louder, shouted: “All I want is information!”

So the bank robber shouted: “Just let me think!”

To which Roger shouted: “You’re not much good at being a bank robber, you know!”

Whereupon the bank robber waved the pistol and shouted: “Luckily for you!”

Ro quickly stepped forward and shouted: “Okay, everyone stop shouting now! It’s not good for the baby!”

Which of course was perfectly true, babies find shouting unsettling, Ro had read that in the same book that had told her that pregnancy was a shared journey. After this pronouncement she turned to Julia as if she were expecting a medal. Julia rolled her eyes. “Really, Ro? Someone’s pointing a gun at us, and you’re worried about a few raised voices?”

In the meantime Estelle gently patted the bank robber’s arm and explained: “Yes, those two are going to have a baby together, you know, even though they’re from… well, you know.”

She winked at the bank robber as if that were all she needed to say. It didn’t seem to have worked, though. So Estelle adjusted her skirt and changed tack: “Well, I don’t see why we have to fall out. Can’t we start by introducing ourselves instead? My name is Estelle. You never said what your name is.”

With a tilt of the head and a gesture toward the mask, the bank robber said: “I… look… that’s not a great question to ask me.”

Estelle nodded apologetically at once, and turned to the others.

“Well, then, perhaps we should assume that our friend here wants to remain anonymous. But you could tell us all your names, couldn’t you?” she said, nodding at Roger.

“Roger,” Roger muttered.

“And my name’s Anna-Lena!” Anna-Lena said, accustomed to not being asked.

“I’m Ro, and this is my wife, Juli—OW!” Ro said, clutching her shin.

The bank robber looked at them all, then gave a brief nod.

“Okay. Hello.”

“So now we all know each other! Lovely!” Estelle declared, so delighted that she clapped her hands. And for such a slight person she could clap her hands surprisingly hard. Which isn’t a great thing to do in a room in which someone is holding a pistol, seeing as everyone thought that the sudden clap was a pistol shot and threw themselves down on the floor.

The bank robber looked at the prone bodies in surprise, then, with a scratch of the head, turned to Estelle and said: “Thanks. That was very helpful of you.”

Anna-Lena was lying curled up on the carpet by the sofa, and had trouble breathing for half a minute until she realized that was because Roger, when he thought he heard a pistol shot, had thrown himself on top of her.

31

Witness Interview

Date: December 30

Name of witness: Estelle

JIM:I really am very sorry about all this. We’ll try to get you home as soon as possible.

ESTELLE:Oh, don’t worry—to be honest, this has all been rather exciting. Not much exciting happens most days when you’re nearly ninety!

JIM:Of course, yes. Well, my colleague and I would very much like to ask you to look at this drawing. We found it in the stairwell and we think it shows a monkey, a frog, and an elk. Do you recognize it?