Anxious People

by Fredrik Backman

  JIM: You mean that they’re homosexual?

  ESTELLE: There’s nothing wrong with that.

  JIM: I didn’t say there was, did I?

  ESTELLE: That’s absolutely fine these days.

  JIM: Of course it is. I haven’t suggested otherwise.

  ESTELLE: I think it’s wonderful, I really do, that people are free to love whoever they like nowadays.

  JIM: I’d like to make it absolutely clear that I share that view.

  ESTELLE: In my day it would have been regarded as quite remarkable, you know, getting married and having a baby when you’re both, well, you know.

  JIM: From Stockholm?

  ESTELLE: Yes. But I’ve actually always rather liked Stockholm, you know. You have to let people live their lives however they want. I mean, that’s not to say I’ve been to Stockholm myself, I haven’t, of course not. I’m not, that’s to say I’ve never… I’m happily married. To Knut. And I’m very happy with the usual, you know.

  JIM: I have no idea what we’re talking about anymore.

  32

  When the first police siren was heard from the street, the bank robber ran out onto the balcony and peered over the railing. That was how the first blurry mobile phone pictures of “the masked gunman” appeared on the Internet. Then even more police officers appeared.

  “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” the bank robber repeated quietly, then ran back inside the apartment, where everyone except for Julia was still lying on the floor.

  “I can’t lie down any longer because I need to go to the toilet! Or do you want me to do it all over the floor?” Julia snapped defensively even though the bank robber showed no sign of saying anything.

  “Not that it would make much difference,” Zara said, lifting her face from the parquet floor in disgust.

  Ro, who seemed to have a lot of experience in being yelled at despite not actually having said anything, sat up and patted the bank robber’s leg consolingly.

  “Don’t take the fact that Julia’s shouting at you personally. She’s just a bit sensitive, because the baby’s having a disco in her stomach, you know?”

  “Personal information, Ro!” Julia roared.

  They have a definition for what counts as personal, Julia and Ro, even though Julia is the only one who knows what that definition is.

  “I was actually talking to our bank robber. You only told me not to talk to the other prospective buyers,” Ro said defensively.

  “But I’m not really a bank—,” the bank robber began, but was drowned out by Julia.

  “Doesn’t make any difference, Ro, stop making friends! I know how this ends, they tell you their life story and then you feel bad when we have to outbid them for the apartment!”

  “That happened once,” Ro called after her.

  “Three times!” Julia said, reaching for the bathroom door.

  Ro gestured apologetically to the bank robber: “Julia says I’m the sort of person who refuses to eat fish sticks after seeing the dolphins at the sea life center.”

  The bank robber nodded understandingly. “My daughters are like that.”

  Ro smiled. “You’ve got daughters? How old are they?”

  The numbers seemed to catch in the bank robber’s throat: “Six and eight.”

  Zara cleared her throat and asked: “Are they going to inherit the family business, then?”

  Wounded, the bank robber blinked and looked down at the pistol. “I’ve never… done this before. I’m… I’m not a criminal.”

  “I certainly hope not, because you really are shockingly bad at it,” Zara declared.

  “Why do you have to be so critical?” Ro snapped at her.

  “I’m not critical, I’m giving feedback,” Zara said, by way of offering feedback.

  “I can’t imagine you’d be that good at robbing people,” Ro said.

  “I don’t rob people, I rob banks,” the bank robber interjected.

  “And how good are you at that, on a scale of one to ten?” Zara asked.

  The bank robber looked at her sheepishly. “A two, maybe.”

  “Have you even got a plan for how you’re going to get out of here?” Zara asked.

  “Stop being so demanding! Criticism doesn’t help anyone improve!” Ro said critically.

  Zara studied her intently. “Is this what your personality is like? Are you happy with it?”

  “Says you,” Ro began, then the bank robber tried to calm things down.

  “Can you just… please? I haven’t got a plan. I need to think. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.”

  “What?” Ro asked.

  “Life,” the bank robber sniffed.

  Zara took her phone out of her pocket and said: “Okay, let’s call the police and get this sorted out.”

  “No! Don’t!” the bank robber said.

  Zara rolled her eyes.

  “What are you scared of? Do you honestly think they don’t know you’re here? You have to call them and tell them how much ransom you want, at least.”

  “You can’t call, there’s no signal in here,” Ro said.

  “Are we in prison already?” Zara wondered, shaking her phone as if that might help.

  Ro stuck her hands in her pockets and said, half to herself: “It’s actually not that bad, because I’ve read that children who grow up not staring at screens are more intelligent. Technology stunts the development of the brain.”

  Zara nodded sarcastically.

  “Really? Tell me about all the Nobel Prize winners who grew up in Amish communities.”

  “I’ve actually read that there’s research that says mobile signals cause cancer,” Ro persisted.

  “Yes, but what if it’s an emergency? What if you move in here and your baby chokes on a peanut and dies because you can’t call an ambulance?” Zara said.

  “What are you talking about? Where would the baby get the peanut from in the first place?”

  “Maybe someone put some through the mail slot during the night.”

  “Are you really this sick?”

  “I’m not the one who wants my baby to choke to death…”

  They were interrupted by Julia, who was suddenly standing beside them again.

  “What are you arguing about now?”

  “She started it! I was trying to be friendly, and that’s not the same as me not wanting to eat fish sticks!” Ro snapped defensively, pointing at Zara.

  Julia groaned, and looked apologetically at Zara.

  “Did Ro tell you about the sea life center? And dolphins aren’t even fish.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything? Anyway, weren’t you going to the toilet?”

  “It was occupied,” Julia said, shrugging.

  The bank robber pulled at the ski mask with one hand, then counted the people in the room. Then stammered: “Hang on… what do you mean, occupied?”

  “Occupied!” Julia repeated, as if that were going to help.

  The bank robber went and tugged at the bathroom door. It was locked.

  And that was how this turned into a story about a rabbit.

  33

  Witness Interview (Continued)

  ESTELLE: I’d like to make it clear that I’m sure Stockholm is perfectly pleasant. If you like Stockholmers. And I can tell you right now that I don’t think Knut has any prejudices, either, because once when we were younger I was tidying his office and I found an entire magazine all about Stockholm.

  JIM: Great.

  ESTELLE: I didn’t think so at the time. We actually had quite a row about it, Knut and I.

  JIM: I see. So, you were talking to Ro and Julia when the bank robber came in?

  ESTELLE: They keep birds. And they argued all the time. But in a cute way. Of course, the other couple were arguing, too, Roger and Anna-Lena, but that was nowhere near as cute.

  JIM: What were Roger and Anna-Lena arguing about?

  ESTELLE: The rabbit.

  JIM: What rabbit?

  ESTELLE: Oh, it’s
quite a long story, if I’m honest. They were arguing about the cost of the apartment, per square foot, you see. Roger was worried that everyone was pushing the price up. He said the housing market was being manipulated by bastard real estate agents and bastard bankers and Stockholmers.

  JIM: Hold on, was he saying that homosexuals were manipulating the housing market?

  ESTELLE: Homosexuals? Why would they be doing that? That’s a terrible thing to say! Who’d say a thing like that?

  JIM: You said Stockholmers were doing it.

  ESTELLE: Yes, but I meant Stockholmers. Not “Stockholmers.”

  JIM: Is there a difference?

  ESTELLE: Yes. One’s Stockholmers, and the other’s “Stockholmers.”

  JIM: Sorry, but I’m confused now. Let me try to write this down in chronological order.

  ESTELLE: Take your time, as much time as you need. I’m not in a hurry.

  JIM: I’m sorry, but I think perhaps it would be best if we went back to the first question?

  ESTELLE: Which one was that?

  JIM: Did you notice anything particular about the other prospective buyers?

  ESTELLE: Zara looked sad. And Anna-Lena didn’t like the green curtains. And Ro was worried the closet wouldn’t be big enough. But it’s one of those walk-in closets, as they’re called these days. I didn’t know that until I heard Jules call it that.

  JIM: No, hold on, that can’t be right. There’s no walk-in closet on the plans.

  ESTELLE: Maybe it looks smaller on there?

  JIM: The plan must be to scale, though, surely?

  ESTELLE: Oh, must it?

  JIM: On the plans, the closet isn’t even two square feet in size. Can I ask how big this walk-in closet is?

  ESTELLE: I’m not very good at measurements. But Ro said she wanted to use it as a hobby room. She makes her own cheese, you know. And grows flowers. Well, some sort of plants, anyway. Jules isn’t very happy about that. Once Ro tried to make her own champagne and made a mess of Jules’s underwear drawer. Ro said that caused “a hell of a fight.”

  JIM: Sorry, but can we try to focus on the size of the closet?

  ESTELLE: Jules was insistent that it was a walk-in closet.

  JIM: Is it big enough to hide in?

  ESTELLE: Who?

  JIM: Anyone.

  ESTELLE: I suppose so. Is it important?

  JIM: No. No, probably not. But my colleague was keen that I should ask all the witnesses about possible hiding places. Would you like some coffee?

  ESTELLE: A cup of coffee would certainly be very nice, I wouldn’t say no to that at all.

  34

  The bank robber stared at the bathroom door. Then at all the hostages. Then asked: “Do you think there’s someone in there?”

  Zara countered in a way that could have been taken as sarcastic: “What do you think?”

  The bank robber blinked so many times that it looked like Morse code.

  “So you do think there’s someone in there, then?”

  “Did your parents by any chance have the same surname before they met?” Zara asked.

  Ro took offense on behalf of the bank robber, and snapped: “Why do you have to be such a cow?”

  Julia kicked Ro’s shin and hissed: “Don’t get involved, Ro!”

  “You’re the one who’s always saying we’re going to teach our child to stand up to bullies! I’m not going to stand here and let her talk to—” Ro protested.

  “Talk to who? A bank robber? Is that bullying? Heaven forbid that someone who’s threatening us with a gun should feel offended!” Julia said with a groan.

  “I’m not—” the bank robber began, but Julia raised a warning finger.

  “You know what? You’re the one who’s caused all this, so you can just shut up.”

  Zara, who was looking at the dust on her clothes and couldn’t have appeared more disgusted if she’d just climbed out of a pile of manure, noted: “Good that your kid’s got at least one mother who isn’t a communist.”

  Julia spun around toward her: “And you can shut up as well.”

  Zara did actually shut up. No one was more surprised by that than Zara herself.

  * * *

  In the meantime Roger cautiously rose to his feet. He helped Anna-Lena up, she looked him in the eye and he didn’t really know where to look, they weren’t used to touching each other without turning the lights out first. Anna-Lena blushed, and Roger turned around and started knocking absentmindedly on the walls in an attempt to look busy. He always knocked on the walls at apartment viewings, Anna-Lena wasn’t entirely sure why, but he said it was because he needed to know “if you could drill into them.” That was important to Roger, this business of drilling, and it was just as important to know if the wall was load-bearing. If you remove a load-bearing wall, the ceiling collapses. And apparently you could hear that if you knocked on the wall, at least you could if you were Roger, so he did it everywhere at every single viewing, knocking and knocking and knocking. Anna-Lena sometimes used to think that everyone gets a few moments that show who they really are, tiny instances that reveal their entire soul, and Roger’s were this knocking. Because sometimes, so fleetingly that no one but Anna-Lena would even notice it, he would stand motionless immediately after a knock, looking at the wall in anticipation. The way a child might. As if he were hoping that one day someone would knock back. Those were Anna-Lena’s favorite Roger moments.

  Knock knock knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

  He suddenly stopped right in the middle of a knock. Because he was listening to the conversation between Ro and Julia and Zara about the locked bathroom door. A shiver ran down Roger’s spine when he realized that the most terrible thing of all might be hiding in there: another prospective buyer. He therefore decided to take charge of the situation at once. He marched straight over to the locked bathroom and had just raised his hand to knock when Anna-Lena cried out: “No!”

  Roger turned around in surprise and looked at his wife. She was shaking all over, and was blushing right down to her fingertips.

  “Please… don’t open the door,” she whispered, and Roger had never seen her so frightened, and had absolutely no idea what might be the cause. Zara was standing alongside them, looking from one to the other. Then, predictably, she walked to the bathroom door and knocked on it. After a short pause someone knocked back.

  By then tears were running down Anna-Lena’s cheeks.

  35

  Witness Interview

  Date: December 30

  Name of witness: Roger

  JACK: Are you okay?

  ROGER: What sort of question is that?

  JACK: Your nose looks like it’s been bleeding.

  ROGER: Yes, well, it does that sometimes, the quack says it’s “stress.” Never mind that, just ask your questions.

  JACK: Okay, then. You went to the apartment viewing with your wife, Anna-Lena?

  ROGER: How do you know that?

  JACK: It’s in my notes.

  ROGER: Why have you got notes about my wife?

  JACK: We’re interviewing all the witnesses.

  ROGER: You shouldn’t have notes about my wife.

  JACK: Just stay calm now.

  ROGER: I’m perfectly freaking calm.

  JACK: In my experience, that’s what people who are anything but calm say.

  ROGER: I’m not going to answer any questions about my wife!

  JACK: No, okay, fine. Can you answer some questions about the perpetrator, then?

  ROGER: How can I answer that until you’ve asked them?

  JACK: To start with: Where do you think he’s hiding?

  ROGER: Who?

  JACK: Who do you think?

  ROGER: The bank robber?

  JACK: No, Waldo.

  ROGER: Who’s that?

  JACK: You don’t know who Waldo is? It’s the title of an old kids’ book, Where’s Waldo?. Forget it, I was being sarcastic.

  ROGER: I have no reason to read kids’ books.

>   JACK: I’m sorry. Can you tell me where you think the perpetrator is hiding?

  ROGER: How should I know?

  JACK: I hope you’ll forgive me pressing you for an answer, but we have reason to believe that the perpetrator is still in the apartment. I thought perhaps you might be able to help, because your wife says you do exhaustive research before each viewing. And that you check all the measurements on the plans.

  ROGER: You can’t trust real estate agents. Some of them couldn’t even measure a ruler using another ruler.

  JACK: That’s exactly what I mean. Did you discover anything special about this particular apartment?

  ROGER: Yes. The real estate agent is an idiot.

  JACK: Why?

  ROGER: There were three feet missing from the measurements, between the walls.

  JACK: Really? Between which walls? Can you show me on the plan?

  ROGER: There. You can hear it if you knock. The gap.

  JACK: Why would it be there?

  ROGER: Probably because this apartment and the one next door used to be one single larger apartment once upon a time, when people around here had more money and apartments were cheaper. Now the whole housing market’s being manipulated to screw ordinary people. It’s the real estate agents’ fault. And the banks’. And people from Stockholm. Driving the prices up and everything. What the hell are you rolling your eyes for?

  JACK: Sorry. I don’t want to get involved. But haven’t you and your wife bought and sold a number of apartments as speculative investments in recent years? Surely that must push prices up as well?

  ROGER: So now there’s something wrong with making a bit of money, too?

  JACK: I didn’t say that.

  ROGER: I’m a good negotiator, and that isn’t a crime, you know!

  JACK: No, no, of course not.

  ROGER: At least I thought I was a good negotiator.

  JACK: I don’t follow you?

  ROGER: I used to be an engineer. Before I retired. Does it say that in your notes?

  JACK: What? No.

  ROGER: So that’s not relevant, then? A whole life spent doing a job, and it isn’t relevant enough to be included in your notes? Do you know what my colleagues did in those last years?