around it.
'Hello, little kittens, are you waiting for me?'
She shoved the kittens inside with her foot and closed the door behind her. She sat down on the floor, and both the animals immediately jumped up in her arms, nuzzling her chin.
'What's this? Do you want to have a kiss?' Annika laughed.
She petted the kittens for a minute, then got up and walked over to the kitchenette. The cats' three bowls sat on a leftover piece of linoleum next to the stove. The milk had gone bad. The food and the water bowls were both empty.
'Here you go, little kittens.'
She threw out the milk, washed the bowl, and poured fresh milk from the fridge. The kittens were rubbing against her legs, purring expectantly.
'Hey, take it easy.'
They were so eager they nearly turned the bowl over before she'd had time to put it down. While the cats were guzzling the milk, she filled the third bowl with water and looked for the cat food. She found three tins of Whiskas in a cupboard. It made her smile. Whiskas was the name of her own cat in Halleforsnas. He was staying with Grandma in her cottage in Lyckebo over the summer.
'Why am I getting so sentimental?' she said out loud.
She opened a tin, wincing at the smell, and emptied it in the third bowl. She had a look in the litter tray in the bathroom; it would have to do until tomorrow.
'Bye-bye, little cats.'
The kittens took no notice of her.
She quickly left the apartment and walked back down to Kungsholms Square. The day was starting. All the birds were in full voice now. She felt a bit shaky and was swaying slightly; her judgment of distance was poor.
You couldn't go on like this forever, she thought.
The air in her apartment was still stuffy from the day before. It was on the top floor at the back of the block, but it had neither its own bathroom nor hot water. But she had three rooms and a large kitchen. Annika had thought herself incredibly lucky when she got it.
'Nobody wants to live that primitively,' the woman at the housing department had said to Annika when she had stated on the form that she could live without elevator, hot water, bathroom, or even electricity if necessary.
Annika had persevered.
'Here you are. Nobody wants this,' the woman said, and gave her a computer printout with the address, 32 Hantverkargatan, fourth floor across the yard.
Annika took it without even seeing it. She had thanked her lucky stars every single day since then, but she knew her joy would be short-lived. She had agreed to one week's notice of eviction as soon as the owner of the block secured a loan for a complete renovation of the building.
She dropped her bag on the floor in the hallway and went into her bedroom. She had left the window open yesterday morning, but it had banged shut during the day. She opened it again and walked toward the living room to open a window in the hopes of stirring up a draft.
'Where have you been?'
Annika jumped in the air and screamed out loud.
The voice was quiet and came from the shadows over by her bed. 'Jesus, have you completely lost your nerves?'
It was Sven, her boyfriend.
'When did you get here?' she said, her heart jumping against the inside of her chest.
'Last night. I wanted to take you to the movies. Where have you been?'
'At work,' she said, and went into the living room.
He got up from the bed and followed her. 'No, you haven't. I called an hour ago and they said you'd left already.'
'I went to feed Anne's cats.' She opened the living-room window.
'That's your excuse?'
She'd been there for about a minute and already they were arguing. Annika sometimes wondered what she still saw in Sven.
Seventeen Years, Six Months, and Twenty-One Days
Sunday 29 July
Patricia put her hand on Josefin's door handle. She hesitated. The bedroom was Josefin's domain. Patricia didn't have access and Jossie had been very clear about it:
'You can stay here, but the bedroom is mine.'
The handle was a bit loose. Patricia had been meaning to tighten it, but they didn't have a Phillips screwdriver. Carefully, she pushed down on the handle. The door creaked. She was met by a musty smell; the air in the room was hot and stagnant. Jossie was supposed to clean her own room, which meant it never got done. The police search during the night had stirred up two months' worth of dust.
The room was bathed in sharp sunlight. The police had opened the curtains, and Patricia realized she had never seen the room like that before. The daylight exposed the dirt and the grimy wallpaper. Patricia felt ashamed when she thought of the police officers. They must have thought Jossie and Patricia were total slobs.
She slowly walked over to the bed and sat down. It was really only a mattress from IKEA that they had put on the floor. She sat about a foot off the ground.
Patricia was tired. She had slept badly in the heat- waking up, sweating, crying. She slowly lay down on the bed. When she had come home this morning, a dull and gloomy loneliness had met her at the door. The police were gone and only the traces of the search remained behind. They really had turned the entire apartment upside down but hadn't taken much with them.
She nearly dropped off among the pillows; she felt the familiar twitch. She instantly sat up. She must not sleep in Jossie's room.
