It was necessary to end a conversation with her that abruptly otherwise one never got rid of the damn woman.
And he had forgotten about the Skördefest the following week. The Skördefest was the annual harvest festival which was spread out all over the island and attracted thousands of visitors. Pumpkins were placed upon the top of bales of hay to signal that harvest goods were available for sale at the location. Every entrepreneurial establishment opened its doors all weekend late into the night and in addition to its normal range of products or gastronomical choices there were also special activities like concerts, art exhibitions, games for the children and special menues to choose from. At the örtagård for example Alma would be offering homemade pumpkin soup and smoked ostrich meat with homebaked bread. And of course Miss Sjöquist would be offering tours of the premises now. They would also have an additional snack van selling doughnuts and candy floss for the kids, since there were always plenty of children around who were probably not too keen on pumpkin soup and ostrich meat. Sören loved doughnuts himself, but rarely indulged himself. But he made an exception at the Skördefest. Even though he had seemed dismissive and vague with Annet Sjöquist, he knew exactly what was going to take place where and when on Rettinge. Anna, Magnus and Sören had meetings about everything concerning the estate on a regular basis, including the Skördefest.
He returned to the dining room a second time that morning to find Anna still there with an expectant look on her face. “Well, well, you are a busy man, aren´t you? You can´t even have breakfast in peace without people bothering you left, right and centre.”
He didn´t tell her that he usually liked to be bothered by one of those people.
But Anna had not finished yet, “And who was that bad tempered little redhead? Is she a close acquaintance of yours? She must be, otherwise she wouldn´t have had the nerve to barge in here like that.”
Oh yes she would, Sören thought. “She´s my tenant, she rents one of the houses on the estate.”
“A tenant?? You let people who rent from you speak to like that? I must say, I´m beginning to become a little disillusioned in you. Are you really that soft? These people will walk all over you, if you let them.”
“Right, thanks for the advice. Listen I think we should get going soon, We need to go over the details of your business plan again.”
They drove to Kalmar and Sören was spared any further private conversation with Anna, as she was constantly busy talking into her mobile phone and checking messages.
Why had he even taken her to Rettinge, he wondered. He had a perfectly nice place in Kalmar too which he usually used when he had long meetings or had to take customers out for a night on the town and knew he was going to be drinking. Or when he just felt like staying in Kalmar, which hadn´t been often since Clarice had moved in.
Chapter 9
Wow, little Miss Einstein next door had feelings, how about that! Tilda had watched an obviously miffed Clarice march over to the big house and come out a little while later, visibly upset. After that she had disappeared in to her house, banging the door so loudly that Tilda could hear it across the driveway.
Not that Tilda had anything against Clarice. She was a good neighbour, no trouble at all. She kept to herself most of the time and seemed a bit of a loner but that was much better than having a nosey busybody next door. And Tilda understood about keeping to yourself. She had had more than her fair share of gossip and nasty rumours trailing her all her life. Oscar, Tilda´s four year old son, had taken to Clarice immediately, even though Clarice had done her best to ignore him. But children were like that, weren´t they? You tried to win their favour and they brushed you off. You ignored them and they want you to like them. So Oscar had done his best to get Clarice to notice him and she hadn´t been able to ignore him for long. He ran over there all the time now but Clarice didn´t seem to mind and even kept him busy with painting materials, games and interesting little technical gadgets which Tilda had never seen before. Maybe Clarice made them herself. Sometimes they just sat and talked but when questioned later by Tilda about the content of those conversations, Oscar could never say exactly what it was they had talked about. As long as she was nice to him, it didn´t matter, did it? Obviously she and Clarice would never be friends, would they? Clarice being so smart and everything. Wasn´t she a professor or something? And Tilda just cleaned houses.
She had left school at the earliest opportunity, to get away from home and from him, her father. Then she had met Henric and he had seemed so nice and gentle, but it hadn´t lasted long. Unfortunately she had already married him and become pregnant before she realized she had married a monster. A man just like her father.
But she had not stayed with him and made her whole life and her child´s life a living nightmare. She had left him as soon as possible. He had followed her wherever she went, constantly threatening to hurt her and Oscar if she didn´t come back to him. But she hadn´t and one night he had broken into the little house she was renting at that time in Färjestaden and beaten the living daylights out of her. A neigbour had called the police and he had been taken away. That had been a year ago. He had been sentenced to three years and then he would be out. He was undergoing therapy in prison and Tilda hoped it would help. When she had recovered from her injuries, Sören Hellström had offered her the cleaning job and this house. He was such a nice man and so polite. Of course he was quite a bit older than her, more than ten years older. She didn´t find Sören quite as staggering as most of the other women she knew in the village. Some of them almost swooned when they talked about him. For her he was too old and she had known him too long.
Clarice didn´t seem to be overly impressed by him either or she just didn´t show it. Tilda knew Sören had offered her the job and the house as a show of loyalty towards her and her family. Rettinge and Ljudbyholm had been the biggest gårds on southern Öland and Per Nielson and Fredrik Hellström had been good friends. She wondered why Sören was still single. Surely he met loads of women through his work or at one of those galas and charity balls he was constantly invited to. Not that she was privy to Sören Hellström´s social life but she often saw him emerge from the house in the evening dressed in black tie and men only wore that when they were going somewhere posh and really fancy, right?
Anyway, she didn´t really care, she had other worries. One of them was outside right now, staggering towards her house. It was the bane of her life, her father. She had told him again and again that she didn´t want to talk or even see him but as usual he didn´t care what other people wanted. Why did he come here all the time, when he knew everyone hated him. But then people hated him everywhere, so it didn´t make any difference to him.
He had ruined her childhood and most of her youth. She remembered an incident when she had come home late one day and he had gripped her by the neck, almost suffocating her and banged her head against the wall again and again. This was only one of many violent scenes inscribed on her mind. You didn´t just forgive and forget something like that because your father was now old and sick.
In fact she wished he would just stay in his hut and finally drink himself to death. The worst part about the abuse hadn´t actually been the abuse itself, it had been the loss of love and respect. The abuse really became part of everyday life. You got into a sort of perverse routine. If you came home late you got your head banged against the wall, if you dropped a glass or spilled something you got beat with a leather belt and so on. But the lack of love was something you never got used to.
Her mother had done her best but had been too frightened and wrapped up in her own misery to be a comfort. And now her mother was living in Färjestaden with Eric, her little brother. Their relationship was strained of course. Tilda had never really forgiven her for not leaving her father much earlier and saving her and her sister a lot of pain and distress. But they met now and again and her mother was very attached to Oscar and Oscar to her. She was a good grandmother, even if she had been a failure as a mother.
There was a knock on the door. He knew she wouldn´t open up, so why did he bother to knock. Tilda didn´t answer.
“I know you´re in there, let me in, I want to see my grandson.”