‘Who should we focus on if not ourselves?’ he said.
‘Those in wretched situations. The poor. Refugees.’
‘But why should they come here and be maintained by us? You explain that to me,’ he said.
‘Don’t listen to him,’ grandma said to me and put a pot on the stove. ‘He’s just teasing you.’
‘But we have to help those who are less well off, don’t we,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But we have to look after our own first. Then we can help the others. But what they want is to live here. Help is not what they want. We’ve slogged our guts out and we’ve done well, and now they want to take over. Without lifting a finger. Why should we allow that?’
Grandma sat down on her chair.
‘Why did the man from the laboratory refuse to enter the labyrinth?’ she said.
‘Don’t know,’ I said, although I knew what was coming.
‘Because it was too laborious!’ she said and laughed.
Grandad picked up the newspaper again.
There was a silence. The pot crackled on the hotplate. Grandma lit another roll-up, placed one hand on her other arm and whistled softly to herself.
Grandad turned over a page.
I had exhausted all my conversational topics. We had spent less time on my new job than I had anticipated.
Did I dare take out the cigarettes from my jacket pocket?
Would the cross plus smoking be too much for them? I wondered.
An image of dad entered my head. Perhaps smoking had been the link, my having smoked twice in his presence without him saying a word.
If it was fine by him, it should definitely be fine by them, shouldn’t it?
I took out the packet.
Grandma eyed me.
‘Have you got your own cigarettes?’ she said.
I nodded. I didn’t want to use her lighter, somehow that would be too intimate, or too obtrusive, so I put my hand back into my pocket and took out my own. I lit up.
‘I was at dad’s a few days ago,’ I said. ‘Things are going well for him.’
‘Yes, he dropped by yesterday,’ grandma said.
‘We’re trying to maintain the amount of contact we had, even if we live separately,’ I said. ‘I think he must have been under quite a bit of pressure this summer, what with the divorce and so on.’
‘Do you think so?’ grandma said, looking at me as she blew out smoke.
‘Ye-es,’ I said. ‘They were married a long time. Getting separated is no laughing matter.’
‘No, it certainly isn’t,’ grandma said.
‘I’ll try to keep in touch with you as well,’ I said. ‘It’s easy enough to call by after school, for example. And now that I’ve got a job I can have dinner here every so often.’
Grandma smiled at me. Then she turned, glanced at the pot, which was making some muffled gurgling noises, got up and moved it to the side, switched off the hob, fetched a plate and cutlery, which she placed in front of me on the table.
I stubbed out my half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray. She lifted the pot, held it by one handle, dipped the ladle inside and served three meatballs, two potatoes and some onions onto my plate.
‘I did it the easy way and heated the potatoes in the sauce,’ she said.
‘Looks fantastic,’ I said.
No one talked while I ate. I was soon finished.
‘Thank you!’ I said when I had eaten everything and placed the knife and fork on my plate. ‘That was fantastic!’
‘Good,’ grandma said, got up and carried the plate to the sink, rinsed it, opened the dishwasher lid, pulled out the little basket with the tiny fishbone-like plastic spikes, slotted the plate in and closed it again.
The wall clock said two minutes past five.
If I was going to ask to borrow some money it mustn’t look as if I had planned it or even counted on it. After all I could have stayed a shorter time and caught the bus home using my card. It would have to seem spontaneous.
But I didn’t need to do it yet.
Could I smoke another cigarette?
My intuition told me that would be a mistake. Too much.
‘What’s so interesting in the newspaper?’ grandma said. ‘I read it this morning and there wasn’t a damn thing in it.’
‘I read the obituaries,’ grandad said.
‘And they’re interesting now, are they!’ grandma said, glancing at me as she laughed. ‘The obituaries!’
I smiled.
‘Have you met dad’s new girlfriend?’ I said.
‘Unni? Yes. We have. Nice girl.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I think she’s right for dad. But it’s a bit odd for me, I have to admit.’
‘I can imagine,’ grandma said.
‘It doesn’t matter though,’ I said.
‘Goodness, no,’ grandma said. ‘I’m sure it doesn’t.’
She whistled again, turned her hand over to form a little rake and inspected her nails.
‘Is there a lot of fruit this year?’
‘Yes, it’s not bad at all,’ she said. ‘Would you like to take some apples with you?’
‘Is that OK? They remind me of my childhood.’
‘I can imagine,’ she said. ‘You can have some in a bag.’ I raised my eyes and stared pointedly at the clock.
‘Oh no!’ I said. ‘Is that the time? Ten past five?’
I got up and rummaged through my pockets for money. Took it out, counted it, pursed my lips.
‘The last bus went at five,’ I said. ‘My travel card isn’t valid after five. And I haven’t got enough money.’
I glanced at grandma, then lowered my eyes.
‘I could hitchhike though,’ I said.
‘I’ll see if I’ve got some you can have,’ grandma said. ‘It’s such a long way. You really should take the bus.’
She got up.
‘I’ll be off then,’ I said to grandad.
He put down the newspaper.
‘Bye then,’ he said.
‘Bye,’ I said, following grandma down to the hall. She took a small purse from an off-white coat hanging up, opened it and looked at me.
‘How much does the bus cost?’
‘Fourteen kroner,’ I said.
She passed me two twenty-krone notes.
‘So you can buy yourself something nice with the rest,’ she said.
‘I’m just borrowing it,’ I said. ‘You’ll get it back next time.’
She snorted.
For a moment we stood in the hall without moving. I could feel she was waiting for me to go.
Had she forgotten the apples?
For a few seconds I was at a loss to know what to do. She had said I could take some with me, so surely it wouldn’t be unreasonable to remind her?
But she had just given me some money for the bus. I didn’t want to hassle her.
She turned her head, saw her reflection in the mirror, put a hand on top of her hair and patted it in place.
‘Did you say you had some apples? I could take a few with me and mum could try some. I’m sure she misses them too.’
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘The apples.’
She opened the door beside the staircase that led down to the cellar.
In the meantime I inspected myself in the mirror. Pulled at the back of my T-shirt to straighten the neck. Ran my fingers through my hair to make it stand up more. Smiled. Put on a serious face. Smiled.
‘Here you are,’ grandma said, coming up the steps. ‘You’ve got a few here.’
She passed me a bag, I took it, went out onto the front doorstep and turned to grandma.
‘Bye then!’ I said.
‘Bye,’ she said.
I turned and set off. The door shut behind me.
At the Rundingen shop I lit a cigarette while waiting for the bus. There was only one every hour, but I was lucky: the next one arrived after only a few minutes.
I boarded and while I was waiting for my ticket and change I squinted down the bus.