Фредрик Бакман - Anxious People

The opening in the ceiling was so tight that she had only just managed to squeeze through, which of course meant it was far too tight for Lennart not to get stuck, so much so that when he tried to pull himself free, the rabbit’s head finally came loose. He fell backward from the hatch, off the stepladder, and landed heavily on the floor. Horrified, the real estate agent leaned past the rabbit’s head and out of the hatch to see if he’d killed himself, whereupon she, too, promptly lost her balance and tumbled through the hole, landing on top of him. Anna-Lena’s foot was trapped beneath them and she fell over, too. The stepladder wobbled and in turn fell over, hitting the hatch on the way and swinging it shut with a bang. The rabbit’s head remained up there.

Roger, Ro, and the bank robber heard the commotion from out in the apartment and came rushing over to see what was going on. Everyone inside the closet tried to crawl out, and everyone outside tried to figure out which limbs to pull on, not altogether unlike trying to untangle the wiring of the Christmas lights the Christmas after the Christmas when you had a row with your wife about brothels and ended up stuffing the whole lot into the box, thinking: “I’ll sort the whole darn mess out next Christmas!”

When they were all finally back on their feet, they stared in unison at Lennart’s underpants, because it had become difficult not to, even if Lennart himself had no idea what was going on until Anna-Lena howled: “You’re bleeding!”

Lennart, now free of the rabbit’s head, leaned over quite a way to see past his stomach, and, sure enough, blood was dripping from his underpants.

“Oh no,” he groaned, then stuck his hand inside his underwear and pulled out a small, leaking bag that looked like the sort of thing you hope your child won’t notice when you pass it on the motorway. He ran toward the bathroom, but tripped over the edge of the carpet in the living room and fell headfirst, and the bag of blood flew out of his hands and the contents exploded across the floor.

“What the…?” Roger exclaimed.

Lennart gasped breathlessly: “Don’t worry! It’s stage blood! I had a bag of it in my underpants, because sometimes you need that little bit extra in the whole ‘rabbit on the toilet’ routine to really frighten people away.”

“I didn’t order this !” Anna-Lena was quick to point out.

“No, it’s an optional extra,” Lennart confirmed, getting clumsily to his feet.

“Go and put some pants on,” Julia said sharply.

“Yes, please do,” Anna-Lena pleaded.

Lennart obeyed them and set off toward the closet. When he came back out, Zara had just come in from the balcony. It was the first time she’d seen him with clothes on, without the rabbit’s head. It was an improvement, she had to admit to herself. She didn’t hate him.

The rest of them were staring at the blood on the carpet and floor, uncertain about what they ought to do now.

“Nice color, anyway,” Ro said.

“Very modern!” Estelle nodded, because she’d heard on the radio recently that murder was fashionable in popular culture at the moment.

Roger, in the meantime, was naturally feeling an increasing need for information, so he turned to the real estate agent and interrogated her: “Where the hell have you been?”

Embarrassed, the Realtor adjusted her rather too large and very crumpled jacket.

“Well, you see, when the viewing started I was in the closet.”

“What for?” Roger demanded.

“I was nervous. I always am before any big viewing, so I usually shut myself in the bathroom, for a couple of minutes to give myself a pep talk. You know, ‘You can do this! You’re a strong, independent real estate agent and this apartment will be sold, by you !’ But the bathroom was occupied, so I went into the closet. And then I heard…”

She gestured politely but nervously toward the woman standing in the middle of the room with her mask in one hand and the pistol in the other. Estelle intervened helpfully and said: “Yes, this is the bank robber, but she isn’t dangerous! She’s just been holding us hostage, but we’ve been very well looked after. We’re going to get pizza!”

The bank robber nodded apologetically to the real estate agent and said: “Sorry. Don’t worry, this isn’t a real pistol.”

The real estate agent smiled in relief and went on: “Well, I was in the closet, and then I heard someone scream ‘We’re being robbed.’ And then I suppose I acted on instinct.”

“What do you mean by on instinct ?” Roger wanted to know.

The real estate agent started to brush off her jacket.

“I’ve actually got several viewings over the next few weeks. The House Tricks Real Estate Agency has a duty to its clients. So I thought, I can’t die. That would have been irresponsible of me. And then I discovered the hatch in the ceiling, so I climbed up there and hid.”

“All this time?” Roger wondered.

The real estate agent nodded so hard that her back creaked. “I hoped I might be able to crawl out of the other end somehow, but I couldn’t.” Then she seemed to think of something important and clapped her hands together and exclaimed: “Well, goodness, look at me standing here chattering away. First and foremost, HOW’s TRICKS? How lovely that so many of you were able to come to this viewing, is there anyone who’d like to make an offer on the apartment straightaway?”

The assembled gathering didn’t look particularly impressed by the question. So the agent threw her arms out happily.

“Would you like to look around a bit more? No problem! I haven’t got any other viewings today!”

Roger’s eyebrows sank.

“Why are you even holding a viewing the day before New Year’s Eve? I’ve never experienced that before. And I’ve attended quite a few viewings, I can tell you.”

The real estate agent looked as cheerful as only a real estate agent who’s recently been released from a confined space can look.

“It was one of the seller’s requests, and I didn’t mind, because at the House Tricks Real Estate Agency, every day is a working day!”

The others collectively rolled their eyes at this. All except Estelle, who shivered and asked: “It’s cold in here, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it? Cooler than Roger had budgeted for!” Ro exclaimed, to lighten the mood, then regretted it at once because Roger’s mood didn’t seem to have been lightened at all.

Julia, who by now was aching in most parts of her body, and who had run out of patience altogether, elbowed her way past them all and went and closed the balcony door. Then she went over to the open fireplace and started to sort out the wood.

“We might as well light a fire while we wait for the pizzas.”

The bank robber stood in the middle of the room with the pistol in her hand, for all the good that was doing. She looked at the group of hostages, which had now grown by one more person, which the bank robber could only assume would increase the length of her prison sentence proportionately. So she sighed: “You don’t have to wait for the pizzas. You can all go now. I’ll give up and let the police do… well, whatever they’re thinking of doing. You can all go first, I’ll wait here, so that no one else gets hurt. I never meant to… take anyone hostage. I just needed money for the rent so my ex-husband’s lawyer wouldn’t take my daughters away from me. It was… sorry… I’m an idiot, you didn’t deserve any of this… sorry.”

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she was no longer making any attempt to stop them. Maybe it was the fact that she looked so small that got to the others. Or maybe they each in turn found themselves thinking about what they’d actually experienced that day, and what it had meant for them. Suddenly they all started to protest at the same time, talking over each other: