Юнас Юнассон - The Accidental Further Adventures of the Hundred-Year-Old Man

‘Then why not go and get it?’

‘In the United States.’

The amulet lady took an extra look first at Julius, then Allan, then Julius again. One of them was older than her; the other seemed older than was possible. Neither of them looked like a diplomat, whatever one of those looked like.

‘Then how about calling a friend?’

Julius’s left heel was bleeding. His right heel was calling attention to itself as well. And it had been several hours since he’d had any food. ‘I have no friends,’ he said.

‘That’s not true,’ said Allan, who was standing nearby. ‘You have me, Julius.’

‘And how much money do you have?’

‘None, but still.’

The lady with the amulets followed the gentlemen’s conversation.

‘I’m sorry. No money, no bandages. That is the policy of this poor little shop. Put into place by me, the owner, Sabine Jonsson.’

‘But that’s Julius’s last name too,’ said Allan. ‘Isn’t that reason enough to make an exception?’

The amulet lady shook her head. The amulets followed. ‘There must be close to a hundred thousand Jonssons in this country. What would become of my finances if I handed out free bandages to them all?’

Allan said he supposed her finances would go to pot if she did that, but right now they were talking about one Jonsson, not a hundred thousand. To be on the safe side, of course, she could put up a sign on her door later, which clearly stated that all the country’s Jonssons shouldn’t bother asking.

The amulet lady was about to reply, but Julius was in absolute despair. He couldn’t deal with this any longer. It was impossible to consider limping away without bandaging himself first.

‘Give the bandages here,’ he said. ‘This is a robbery!’

The amulet lady looked more surprised than scared.

‘What do you mean, a robbery?’ she said. ‘You don’t have anything to rob me with. Not even a water pistol. If you’re going to rob someone, at least do it properly.’

Julius had never robbed anyone before, but he felt insulted on behalf of all the professional robbers of the world. How could a robbery victim be so disrespectful?

Allan asked if the woman had water pistols for sale. It might be just the thing to get them out of the impasse in which they were currently stuck.

She did not. What was more, how was he planning to pay for the pistol? If he had money, wouldn’t it be better to pay the ransom for his friend’s bandages?

Allan realized she was right. But he also sensed a note of forgiveness in the air. Perhaps the woman with the amulets didn’t want to argue any more. He quickly worked out a plan for peace.

‘I see you have a small café corner over there. If my friend and I have a seat with the bandages, might you keep us company over a cup of coffee, ma’am? Wouldn’t that be a decently unexpected turn of events?’

The amulet lady smiled for the first time. She handed the box of bandages to Julius with the comment that he and his friend weren’t thirty-six kronor in debt, but another twenty on top. The coffee was ten kronor a cup.

Julius nodded gratefully and shuffled over to the closest empty chair. Allan wondered if there would be an extra charge for a sugar cube.

‘Both sugar and milk are included. Have a seat. I’ll be over in a tick.’

Sabine Jonsson arrived with three cups of coffee, a bowl of sugar cubes, three decilitres of milk from the fridge, and three cinnamon buns she’d just warmed in the microwave. Julius had finished bandaging himself and decided to stay in socks for a while longer.

‘Just so we can keep our accounts in order,’ said Allan, ‘what do we owe for the buns?’

‘Oh,’ said Sabine Jonsson. ‘They might as well be as free as the rest of it. My finances are going to pot anyway. I am, as you will have noticed, hopeless at running a business.’

What Allan noticed above all was that Sabine wanted to talk. Perhaps it wasn’t much fun for her, alone behind a counter all day long. Surely it didn’t help, having customers who couldn’t pay their way.

‘It seems to me you’re a generous person, Miss Sabine,’ said Allan. ‘Tell us a little about yourself, and I’ll eat this bun in the meantime.’

Allan’s analysis of the situation proved correct. It was like pushing a button.

What did he want to know? That she was fifty-nine years old, unmarried, and had neither friends nor relatives? At least, not on this side of existence.

‘On which side, did you say?’ Julius wondered.

‘This one. There’s another side too, if you ask my mother.’

Allan said he wanted to know more about the other side, and that he would be happy to ask her mother. ‘Where might she be?’

‘On the other side.’

‘Is she dead?’

‘Yes.’

Allan finished chewing his bun and swallowed. ‘In that case, would you mind, Miss Sabine, trying to summarize what your mother would have said if she were somewhere other than that?’

By all means. The spirits’ side was unfamiliar to most. But, as a child, Sabine had learned from her mother that, like her mother, she had gifts others did not. Her mother, Gertrud, was no longer alive, but until her death she had spent many years running Other Side AB, assisted by her daughter, who kept to herself the fact that she never saw what her mother seemed to see. Their speciality was consultations in the field of clairvoyance. This meant that mother and daughter held séances upon clients’ request and offered courses in finding spirits, handling malevolent spirits, and the best way to reward friendly spirits that watched over old houses. In their communications work they used pendulums, crystals, divining rods, sounds and scents, all with the aim of establishing a bridge between the world as we know it and the unknown on the other side. Hence the name of the business.

‘And the amulets around your neck?’ Allan asked.

‘Inheritances from Mum. Just about all she left behind. They’re symbols of earth, fertility and gifts. Or nonsense, nonsense and nonsense, if you prefer.’

‘You don’t believe in the other side?’ Julius asked.

‘I hardly believe in this one. My life is fairly miserable.’

Sabine had more to get off her chest. There were a lot of things that wanted to come out. But she thought it was her turn for something to nibble at. Time to hear from the gentlemen. What were they, besides shop robbers? Diplomats? No matter how much Sabine appreciated a good story, in this case she preferred to hear the truth.

Julius nodded in shame and apologized for the attempted robbery. But he’d been in such pain, both of sole and soul. And, incidentally, it hadn’t gone away.

‘There’s ibuprofen in a rack by the register,’ said Sabine. ‘You can put the money you don’t have on the counter.’

Julius thanked her and hobbled off. Meanwhile, Allan began his story. In certain respects, they were in fact diplomats – at least, they had diplomatic passports. The part about the wallet, though, wasn’t true. Happenstance had brought them on an involuntary journey from Indonesia, where they worked as vegetable merchants. On their journey they had met the Swedish minister for foreign affairs, who had helped them along the way and promoted them to diplomats, mostly for practical reasons, but still. In the United States, Allan and the minister had met President Trump, at the president’s own request. After that, it seemed best to return to Sweden. Earlier that day they had been standing at Arlanda with twenty dollars in their pocket. Unfortunate circumstances had led them to run out of that money. Without a single öre to their names, all they could do was walk. Until they could walk no more.

Vegetable merchants who had come to Sweden on diplomatic passports, after a meeting with the American president, but with no wallets: Sabine suspected there was more to the story, and Allan admitted that there was. ‘But perhaps we don’t have to cover it all at once?’