'What's your name?' he asked as he folded his hands in his lap.
'Lindys,' she replied.
'Lindys,' he repeated. He had never heard of such a name.
'Or Merete,' she said. 'Or Elsa. It depends.'
He was confused. 'Depends on what?'
'Well,' she said, flexing the pointy toes of her boots, 'it depends what I feel like that day.'
He lowered his head slowly. He was not feeling very well.
'I see,' he said and could clearly hear that his voice sounded tart. 'So what do you prefer today?'
She thought about it briefly. 'Helle,' she said.
'Very well,' he said. 'Helle. That's settled then.'
'So your name's always the same?' she asked and smiled playfully. She revealed her sharp teeth again.
'Of course,' he said earnestly. 'People usually keep the same name their entire life. And I know you're only joking.'
She laughed once more. Suddenly she took her feet off the coffee table. He experienced an instant sense of relief.
'You got any sweets?' she asked.
Alvar was taken aback. Sweets? Was she being serious?
He hesitated again. 'Sweets?'
'Yes. Sweets, fruit gums, chocolate,' she explained. A little perplexed because he was being so dim.
'No, no, I don't have any sweets,' he replied, shaking his head.
'None at all?' she pressed.
He felt his irritation rise again as he carefully tried to recall the contents of his kitchen cupboards.
'I might have a packet of raisins,' he remembered.
'Raisins?' She mimed munching them. 'Yeah, all right. Can I have them? I need sugar and I need it now.'
He sat there gawping at her. She was demanding that he fetched her some raisins. He did not begrudge her the raisins, but he was not entirely sure where she was going with this. He went out into the kitchen and found the packet. It was one of those snack boxes you put in children's packed lunches. He returned and handed it to her and she opened it immediately. She dug her greedy fingers into the contents.
'Chocolate is better,' she said, 'but raisins will have to do.'
Yes, they certainly will, Alvar thought. He sat watching her as she ate the raisins. She ate all of them and tossed the empty packet onto the coffee table. Again he felt a surge of irritation. She was so careless. She was his guest, but she was acting as if she owned the place. She certainly made herself at home. I guess I'm just being petty, he thought, I'm not used to having guests. I scarcely know how guests would behave. At the same time a chill passed through him. He was always alone and he was always in control and now he was being overpowered by a skinny girl and he did not have the guts to stand up to her. He decided to ask her where she lived. Even though he had asked her before and she had replied, 'Oh, all over the place.' All the same, he was sure that she lived somewhere, she was just unwilling to tell him. He felt very awkward in her presence. Surely his knees were too sharp and his arms too long?
He changed his mind and instead he asked her, 'How old are you?'
'How old? Well, how old do you think?'
Having to guess made him feel uncomfortable. Then he thought, I don't have to guess, I can tell her that I've no idea. But then he looked at her again and estimated her to be twenty.
'Eighteen,' she replied.
Alvar nodded. Perhaps she was lying about this too, like she lied about her name. She was still smiling and he noticed that she had bits of raisins stuck between her teeth. It didn't look attractive, but he couldn't tell her that. He was restless. He wondered how long she intended to sit there lounging on his sofa.
'You're over forty, aren't you?' she said, watching him.
'Forty-two,' he replied truthfully.
'Isn't it about time you got married and started a family?'
He squirmed in his armchair. He was not enjoying this conversation and he refused to expose himself.
'Don't do it,' she said the next moment. 'Family equals trouble. Responsibilities. No money. Endless guilt and a life of drudgery.'
'Does it?'
She ran her fingers through her hair, which was sticking out like a bristle brush.
'I prefer brief acquaintances,' she said. 'Same as you, I can tell from looking at you.'
'Can you?'
She looked around his flat, her ice-blue eyes scanned his possessions and his furniture. 'Christ, you're tidy. Potted plants and embroidered cushions, would you believe it.'
Alvar was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. It was weird that she was sitting there; she had flown right through his door like some strange bird. Even though he wanted to chase her away there was a big knot of resistance inside him which stopped him.
She had walked over to the window. She stared down at the light-bulb factory.
'The Mazda parked down behind the house, is that yours?'
'Yes.'
He squeezed his hands in his lap and tried to be patient.
'I don't have a car,' she said. 'Too much hassle. Who lives downstairs? Do you ever talk to them?'
'The Greens,' he explained. 'We exchange a few words every now and then.'
'Making polite conversation,' she said, 'how awful.'
He nodded in agreement.
'You're really wound up because I'm here, aren't you?'
He was shocked. His instinctive reaction was to protest, but he could not manage it.
'You're one of those loners who keep everyone else at arm's length. That's quite all right, I'm the same.'
'You just took me by surprise,' he said cautiously. 'I don't get many visitors,' he added.
'None,' she said, looking at him. 'No one ever comes here, not a living soul. Am I right?'
Alvar blushed. She was so direct and so forward that she took his breath away.
'You don't need to make excuses,' she went on. 'People come in all shapes and sizes, and I'm the pot calling the kettle black. But most of the time I feel sorry for people. They make it so hard for themselves to be who they really are.'
'And you don't?' he asked before he could stop himself.
She walked over and sat down on the sofa again. 'My life isn't easy,' she said, 'but it is really straightforward. I live one hour at a time. Right now I'm in your cosy living room and I'm enjoying it. I've no idea where I'll be spending the night. But I'm not worried about it. Whereas you,' she said watching him, 'you're already thinking about tomorrow. You're making plans and you'll stick to them. Rather than living in the moment. Am I right? I know I'm right.'
Alvar bowed his head. He could not see how there was anything wrong with making plans. But her presence was really getting on his nerves now and he was desperate for a way to end the conversation.
'No,' he said abruptly and patted the armrests on his chair, 'and anyway, I've got things to do.'
He could not look her in the eyes as he said it, but he got up from his armchair to signal that her visit was over. She just looked at him with wide eyes.
'Really?' she said, puzzled. She did not get up. 'What is it you need to do?'
'Well,' he hesitated. 'Some paperwork.'
She considered this. To his immense relief Alvar saw that she was getting up. He thought, she'll be gone soon and I'll be on my own again and if she rings the doorbell another time, I won't let her in. I won't open the door because I'm in charge here. Then he realised that he would not be able to see who was outside. He did not have a spyhole in his door. Never mind. He decided not to open his door to anyone. No one ever turned up anyway, and if someone did ring the doorbell in the next few days it would probably be this Lindys. Or Elsa. Or Helle. Whatever her name was. She went out in the hall and he followed her. Suddenly she stopped, turned and fixed her eyes on him.
'Could you lend me a grand?'
Alvar gasped for air. Was she out of her mind? Were there no limits to her importunity?
'I don't think I have that much cash on me,' he blurted out. He made an apologetic gesture. She kept looking at him.