But this was entirely different.
She switched on the hallway light and walked to the stairs leading to the bottom floor.
“Hello?” she called out. “Is anyone down there?”
Of course there was no reply. Her fingers gripped the railing tightly as she started to make her way down. Step by step. Once she reached the bottom, she turned on the light. The laundry room, the guest room, the hallway — all appeared normal. She lifted her head and sniffed the air like an animal, flaring her nostrils. Was someone there? A scent? Something or someone that didn’t belong?
The front door downstairs was locked. There was another door at the other end of the hall leading to the garage. It was ajar. Strange. She was sure she’d closed it. Every morning she checked the boiler. She knew she’d done so that morning. She switched on the garage light. Empty. The boiler banged away as usual in its corner. The Volvo, the apple of Hasse’s eye, was parked in its normal place. She looked inside the windows. The key was in the ignition. Last week she’d driven to the superstore to shop for groceries.
Nobody was inside the car. Nobody hiding in the backseat.
She hadn’t expected anyone there, really. But what was that noise? Did she imagine it? Anneli had been saying lately: “You’re starting to get forgetful, little Mama. Soon you’ll be forgetting your own name.”
Maj shook herself, closed the door leading to the garage securely, and walked back upstairs to her bedroom. She hadn’t felt frightened while she went on her reconnaissance mission, more bewildered. Now fear swept through her like a wave. She was gripped by a longing to clutch her cats. She wanted them to follow her into the bedroom and jump on the bed, to curl up next to her and warm her.
The cats never joined her on the bed.
She knew they were inside, as she’d enticed them indoors with sardines. They’d slid onto the porch like two thin shadows and crouched in the darkness. She wanted them to stay inside all the time these days. People said cats were being stolen for dog-fighting bait. Just the thought made her dizzy. One evening, she’d tried sealing the cat door shut with masking tape, but they’d gone crazy. The tape hung in bloody strips the next morning and the cats were outside.
For days after that incident, the cats acted in an odd manner. They slid along the walls and refused to be touched. They jumped whenever she stood up and dashed under the sofa. Even Kitten. Kitten was now a grown cat, but she was used to calling her Kitten, so she didn’t bother calling her anything else. How old was Kitten now? Maj tried to remember. It had been after Hasse’s death. A mother cat and a kitten. Somebody had found them on a balcony in Fornhöjden. Three other kittens had died. The owner of the apartment had been away in Thailand for a number of months, abandoning them, or so Maj had been told.
Lovisa had brought the cats in a cardboard box. There was the sound of scratching and mewing. “Here, Grandma, they’re for you! Now you won’t be so lonely!”
Her granddaughter was a true gift from God.
She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep. It didn’t work. Her entire body was tense. Perhaps she should call Anneli. No, that would make both Anneli and Johnny even more eager to move her into a retirement home.
“You’ll have your own apartment and you’ll get all your meals served. You won’t be so lonely.”
I’m not lonely, she thought. I have the cats. And this is my home.
Johnny usually sat down next to her and laid his heavy arm, pale as death, around her shoulders. “Anneli and I will help you, of course. Little Maj, you understand we’re here for you. We’ll sell the house for you. We’ll fix it up and make sure it’s presentable. We’ll make sure your move goes smoothly. You won’t have to think about anything. You can relax in your new armchair and watch your favorite TV shows, Bingolotto and Så ska det låta. Just enjoy yourself and take it easy.”
Just wait for death, she thought.
She tried to force herself to yawn. Sometimes she could encourage sleep that way. She’d yawn and get a lungful of air. She’d curl her tongue into a bow and let the air be drawn over it.
Then she heard it again. Noise downstairs. Rustling, like shuffled papers and footsteps.
She was suddenly angry. Who dared come into her house and disturb her in the middle of the night? Get the hell out! Now! She flung her bedcover aside and leaped out of bed. Blood rushed hotly to her temples. She grabbed her umbrella with its sharp pointy tip. She started down the stairs, but then the fear caught up with her. How would she, a lone woman, attack a burglar? What if there were more than one?
She heard Johnny’s rant inside her head: “Fucking Turks. They hate us. They think we have it so good... as if we got everything for free. As if we didn’t work our asses off. They want everything for free! Soon they’ll take over the whole town!”
It was true that Södertälje had taken in a great number of immigrants from Iraq, from Lebanon, from Syria. More than the United States and Canada combined.
She protested: people in a free and peaceful country like Sweden should open their doors and welcome these despairing human beings fleeing poverty and war. She remembered the images she’d seen on TV: mothers with dark circles under their eyes; children filled with sorrow.
Johnny would stare at her, eyes so filled with disgust that it quieted her.
“Yeah, yeah, just fling our doors wide open and let them move in. You could fit a whole herd of them into this big house. So why don’t you?”
His words made her speechless.
There was no one inside her house. Of course not. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She’d searched every nook and cranny, even the space behind the boiler until her nightgown was covered in soot.
She decided to sit up for a while. Perhaps doze in her new armchair. It was a wonderful chair: soft and wide. She’d gotten it as a birthday present last year. She walked past the kitchen and picked up a few pieces of candy from the bowl. Peppermints. Anneli had brought them the other day. They seemed like a bribe. She’d seen through the pretense right away. It didn’t take long before Anneli turned to the subject of the house.
“For my sake, if not for yours!” Anneli leaned forward, grasped her hand, giving it a squeeze, and then with a small smile, she continued, “I’m worried about you, Mama! Don’t you see? Anything can happen.”
Maj had gotten angry. “Listen to me! This is my home. Try to understand that I feel just fine right here. I want to stay.”
“But Mama, it’s so big. It’s hard to manage. You can’t count on me and Johnny coming by to help you cut the lawn and fix things up!”
“And I haven’t asked either of you to do so, have I?” she replied. It was true. She’d been handling the lawn, garden, and house all on her own.
Her home with Hasse — all their lives, they’d lived here. The house was built on a slope. The main floor opened to a wonderful view. The basement level was open to the outside, with a large garage door and a second entrance. Counting the huge attic space, it was three floors, really. And although they had to fight gravity to do the gardening, the view was incredible.
Maj had always loved the house. Anneli was right that a few small problems would become big problems given enough time. But not just yet.
The house was at the top of a hill, and it had been harder for her to get outside these days, especially in the early winter when the snow had been plowed from the road and left on the sidewalk. Or in late winter, when melting snow on the road iced over — black ice, people called it. You thought it was wet asphalt, but it was frozen. At her age, if she fell and broke something, it could all be over.