Her mother disregarded the tone in her voice and also got up. 'Don't rummage about in the fridge. We'll be eating soon. You can set the table.'
Annika took a small pot of low-fat yogurt and closed the fridge door.
'I don't have time to stay for dinner. I'm going out to Lyckebo.'
Her mother's mouth became a thin white line. 'It'll be ready in a few minutes. You could wait.'
'I'll see you again soon.' Annika hung her bag over her shoulder and hurried out of the apartment. Her bicycle stood where she had left it. The back tire was flat. She pumped it up, fastened the bag to the rack, and pedaled away toward Granhed. She cycled past the works and glanced at it out of the corner of her eye. The works- beating heart of the small community. Forty thousand square meters of deserted industrial park. Sometimes she hated it for all it had done to her during her youth. Twelve hundred people had worked here when she was born. By the time she left school, that number was down to a few hundred. Her father had had to go when they cut it to one hundred and twenty. Now there were eight workers. She cycled past the parking lot. She counted three cars and five bicycles.
Her father couldn't deal with being unemployed. The lousy job had been his life. He never got a new one, and Annika had a feeling she knew why. Bitterness is hard to hide and unpleasant to hire.
She cycled past the entrance gate to the canoe club and automatically speeded up. That's where they'd found him, half an hour too late. His body temperature was too low. He survived for another twenty-four hours at the hospital in Eskilstuna, but the alcohol did its part. In her darkest moments she felt it was just as well. And if she thought about it, which she rarely did, she suspected she had never allowed herself to mourn him properly.
A thought entered her mind. He's the one I take after. Immediately she brushed the thought aside.
After the turning to Pine Lake, the road became narrower and full of holes. It weaved through the trees. She didn't like the late-summer color of the trees. The dense vegetation was so sated with chlorophyll that it was no longer breathing and was exactly the same shade all over. She found it monotonous.
Forest paths crisscrossed the road from the right and left. Locked barriers blocked off all the roads on the left- hand side; this was the perimeter of the Harpsund compound.
The road climbed and she breathed heavily as she stood up and pedaled. The sweat ran down from her armpits; she'd need a dip in the lake after this.
The turning to Lyckebo appeared as unexpectedly as it always did. Almost every time she nearly missed the side road in the sharp bend and skidded slightly as she braked. She unhooked her bag, leaned the bicycle against the barrier, ducked under it, and waded through the tall grass.
'Whiskas!' she called out. 'Little kitty!'
A few seconds later she heard a distant meowing. The ginger cat emerged from the grass, the sun glittering on its whiskers.
'Whiskas, sweetheart!'
She threw the bag in the grass and let the cat jump up into her arms. Laughing, she lay down among the ants and rolled around with the cat, tickling its stomach and stroking its soft back.
'But you've got a tick, you little rascal. Hang on, let me pull it out.'
She took a firm hold of the insect that had bored into the cat's fur and pulled. She got it out in one piece. She smiled. She still had the knack.
'Is Grandma home?'
The old woman sat in the shade under the old oak tree. Her eyes were closed and she had her hands clasped over her stomach. Annika picked up her bag and walked over with the cat bouncing around her legs, rubbing against her knees and meowing; he wanted more cuddling.
'Are you asleep?' Her voice was no more than a whisper.
The old woman opened her eyes and smiled. 'Not at all. I'm listening to nature.'
Annika gave her grandmother a long hug.
'You're thinner every time I see you. Are you eating properly?'
'Sure.' Annika smiled. 'Now look what I've got for you.' She let go of the woman and rummaged around in her bag. 'Look at this,' she said brightly. 'For you!'
She held out a box of handmade chocolates from a small factory on Gardet in Stockholm.
Her grandmother clapped her hands together. 'How sweet of you! I'm touched.'
Grandmother opened the box and they had one piece each. It was a little too rich for Annika, who didn't like chocolate that much.
'So how are you?'
Annika looked down. 'It's hard going. I'm really hoping they let me stay on at the paper. I don't know what I'll do if they don't.'
The old woman looked at her, a long warm gaze. 'You'll make it, Annika,' she said in the end. 'You don't need that job. You'll see it will all work out.'
'I'm not so sure.'
'Come here.'
Grandmother reached out and pulled Annika down onto her lap. Gingerly, Annika sat down and placed her forehead against the woman's neck.
'You know what I think you should do?' Grandmother said in a serious tone. She held her grandchild and slowly rocked her from side to side. The wind rose and the leaves on the aspen tree next to them rustled. Annika saw Ho Lake glitter between the trees.
'You know I'm always here for you,' Grandmother said. 'I'll be here whatever happens. You can always come to me.'
'I don't want to drag you into it,' Annika whispered.
'Silly girl.' Grandmother smiled. 'You mustn't talk like that. I've got nothing to do these days. Helping you is the least I can do.'
Annika kissed the woman's cheek. 'Are there any chanterelles yet?'
Grandmother chuckled. 'All that rain in the spring and now all this heat- the whole forest is golden yellow. Take two bags with you!'
Annika leaped to her feet.
'I'll just go for a quick swim first!'
She tore off her skirt and top on the way down to the jetty. The water was lukewarm and the bottom muddier than ever. She swam over to the cliffs, pulled herself up, and lay breathing deeply for a while. The wind tore at her wet hair, and when she looked up, the clouds were flying past at a good speed several thousand feet up. She slid into the water again and slowly floated back on her back. Dense forest surrounded the lake, and not a living soul was to be seen apart from Whiskas, waiting for her on the jetty. You could get lost in these woods. She had once as a child. A search party from the local orienteering club had found her in a forest clearing, frozen blue.
She started sweating as soon as she got up on land. She pulled on her clothes without drying herself.
'I'll borrow your rubber boots,' she called to her grandmother, who had picked up her knitting.
She tucked one plastic bag in her waistband and carried one in her hand. Whiskas followed in her footsteps as she strode into the woods.
Her grandmother was right- the chanterelles grew in clusters alongside the path, as big as the palm of your hand. She found some cepes as well, parasol mushrooms, and hoards of little pale hedgehog mushrooms. All the time, Whiskas was dancing around her feet, chasing ants and butterflies, jumping after mosquitoes and birds. Annika crossed the road and walked past Johannislund and Bjorkbacken. There she took a right and walked in the direction of Lillsjotorp to say hello to Old Gustav. His beautiful little house stood in the sun, a wall of huge fir trees behind it. The silence was absolute and she didn't hear the sound of the ax from over by the woodshed. That probably meant that the old man had gone out into the forest, probably for the same reason she had.
The door was locked. She continued up toward White Hill, where she climbed a hunting tower and sat down for a rest. The forest clearing stretched out below her. She'd hear an echo if she called out. She closed her eyes and listened to the wind. It was loud and hot, almost hypnotic. She sat like this for a long while, until a sound startled her. She carefully looked out over the edge.
A stout man came cycling from the direction of Skenas. He was breathing heavily and wobbling somewhat. A dried pine twig was stuck in his back wheel. The man stopped right underneath the tower, pulled out the twig, mumbled something, and continued on his way.
