The Cold Song by Linn Ullmann Read Free Book Online Page B

this small house, an annex, in the garden, that’s where you’ll be staying. With your own bathroom and lots of bookshelves.”
    “Okay,” said Milla, and giggled.
    Siri forced herself to smile.
Why on earth are you giggling?
Oh, she tried to curb her own impatience. Twenty years of running restaurants—it did something to you. To things like having patience. To things here at home. Jon, the children. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
But what have I done with my life?
    “My mother and I lived in that big old house—Mailund, it’s called—until I was fourteen and then we moved to Oslo,” Siri said. She was babbling on. “My mother was a bookseller. She had a bookshop near the old bakery, where I’ve got the restaurant now. But you’ll see all of that when you get there. We’ll take you around and show you everything, the children and I will.”
    Siri could tell that Milla’s mind was elsewhere, that she wasn’t particularly interested in accepting Siri’s little flower:
We’ll take you around and show you everything, the children and I will
.
    The veranda door was open and Siri could hear the neighbour’s children next door, Emma’s daughters, seven and nine years old (older than Liv but younger than Alma), who had been picked up from school early that day. They were clapping their hands and chanting a rhyme that she remembered from when Alma was younger.
    Under an apple tree
    Sat a boy and he said, said he
,
    Hug me
,
    Kiss me
,
    Show that you love me
.
    “And after that she worked for years in a big bookshop here in Oslo,” Siri went on. “It’s closed now. She was in charge of the foreign literature section. Now that she’s retired she’s moved back to Mailund for good. She lives with Irma, who helps her around the house. You’ll meet both of them.”
    “Don’t you have any brothers or sisters?” Milla asked. And then, as if she had already received a reply: “I don’t either.”
    “No,” Siri said. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”
    She did not say:
But don’t think that means we have anything in common, because believe me, we don’t
.
    What she said was: “I had a little brother, but he died when he was four.”
    “Oh,” Milla said, lowering her eyes. “That’s so sad.”
    Jenny’s skin had been soft back then, so soft that you could snuggle right up close to her, poke your nose between her breasts inside the open neck of her well-worn nightdress. And she smelled nice.
    Under an apple tree
    Sat a boy and he said, said he
,
    Hug me …
    Siri thought it would be a good idea to give Milla’s parents a call and assure them that she was in good hands. Regular working hours. Good pay. The news was full of stories about au pairs and nannies who were treated badly: Filipino girls who were forced to work ten-hour days for next to nothing,young women who looked after other people’s children so that they could support their own kids back home, Norwegians who liked the idea of having a servant in the house.
    “We’ll take good care of her, she’ll be just like one of the family,” Siri said.
    “That’s nice,” Amanda Browne said, “but our sweet pea is a grown-up, you know, and does what she likes.”
    “Sweet what?”
    Amanda laughed softly. “Oh, it’s just a leftover from when she was little … sweet pea. That’s what we used to call her.”
    Siri said, “If you and your husband wanted to come to Mailund during the summer to see Milla, we’ve plenty of room. You’d be most welcome. And I’d love to treat you to dinner at Gloucester—that’s my summer restaurant—we’re known for good seafood.”
    Siri had no idea what made her say these things. The last thing she wanted was for Milla’s parents to come to Mailund, to have to socialize with them and give them dinner at the restaurant.
    “Oh, no,” Amanda replied. “Mikkel and I wouldn’t dream of imposing.”
    Siri could tell that Amanda was embarrassed.
    “Anyway, we made other plans