The Caller by Karin Fossum Read Free Book Online

is.’
    Johnny went to the kitchen and prepared everything. Boiled the kettle, poured the water through a coffee filter, added some spoonfuls of sugar. Got a mug from the cupboard, the one his grandfather always drank from: a blue cup with handles on each side. He set it on the table, then went to the window. He said, ‘Who’s the girl with the red hair?’
    Henry cleared his throat and coughed. Dust had lodged in his oesophagus. ‘It’s Meiner’s youngest, I think. Her name is Else. They live in the yellow house down the road. You see the old cars in the front yard? They’ve been there for fifteen years. Meiner has probably meant to fix them and sell them on, but he never has.’
    ‘She’s not nice, that girl,’ Johnny said with his mouth to the window. His breath created a small patch of condensation on the glass and with his finger he drew a skull.
    ‘Do you mean Else? Actually, she is nice. She’s like a little guard dog. She watches everyone who drives into Rolandsgata. Finds out what they’re doing here. Then she’ll bark at them when they drive off. Let me tell you: if someone comes to my house with bad intentions, Else Meiner will warn me instantly. She has eyes like a falcon, and screams like a magpie.’
    Johnny sat back down on the footstool.
    Henry was silent for a long time.
    ‘I’m sorry I’m so old,’ he said finally with a heavy sigh. ‘I’m sorry I’m so slow and useless and don’t understand anything. It won’t get any better, either.’
    ‘Stop talking like that,’ Johnny said sternly.
    ‘I’m not afraid of dying.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘Are you afraid of going to sleep? It’s no worse than that. We lie down, we sail away.’
    He lifted a crooked hand and pushed tufts of hair from his forehead. His lips were narrow and colourless, as if life was leaking slowly from his body and taking with it colour and glow.
    ‘You won’t die for a long time,’ Johnny said confidently.
    The very thought anguished him, because he liked the old man, and he had nowhere else to go. No one waited for him; no one needed him to do anything. Henry was nodding off again. Johnny clutched one of his grand-father’s arthritic hands.
    ‘Grandpa,’ he whispered, ‘would you like me to open a window before I go? It’s so hot in here. You’ll be sluggish.’
    The old man opened one eye. ‘Wasps might get in.’
    ‘Do you have rats in the cellar?’
    ‘Not any more. Mai took care of them.’
    Johnny released Henry’s hand. He rose and smoothed the blanket. ‘Grandpa, when did my mother start drinking?’
    ‘Just before you were born. It wasn’t so easy, you understand. Bad things happened.’
    ‘She won’t talk about my father,’ Johnny complained. ‘I don’t know anything about him.’
    ‘Let it go,’ Henry said, turning his face away and closing his eyes. ‘It’s not always best to know the truth. Trust me.’

Chapter 7
    Lily Sundelin pushed Margrete in the pram, and Karsten walked quietly beside them. She held on to the pram, and he held on to her arm; they couldn’t get any closer to each other. It was mid-afternoon and the sun was burning the backs of their heads. Margrete wore a dress with red-and-white stripes, and looked like a little lollipop.
    They left the Bjerketun housing estate and walked to the main road. Stopped as a car sped past.
    ‘Do you know what occurred to me today?’ Lily said. ‘Right when I got up? It hit me like a bolt of lightning.’
    ‘What?’ He squeezed her arm.
    ‘Her smock,’ she said. ‘It was gone. The pink smock.’ She leaned forward and patted Margrete’s cheek.
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘Yes. For some reason he took the smock with him. Don’t you think that’s a bit twisted? I mean, who steals a smock? I don’t understand it.’
    Karsten didn’t have an answer. She saw him purse his lips. The incident had changed him, and while she partly liked the change, this sudden rage frightened her. His voice was coarse now; she noticed it whenever