“Just like a monthly salary,” Anna-Greta summed up.
“Better than a pension,” said Martha. “With this money we can at least manage well even though we are old ladies. I mean, just think about all the poorly paid women who won’t be able to live on their pensions.”
They all agreed about this and joyfully expressed how delightful it was to be a crook and not a poverty-stricken pensioner with the lowest pension. Especially now that the League of Pensioners had so much money that they could share with others. And that meant it was high time to rent a location so that they could open a restaurant for the elderly.
“We’ll start with the restaurant, get experience from that and then we can go on with our Vintage Village,” said Martha.
“Yes, a modern village for seniors which will be a model for the rest of Sweden,” said Anna-Greta.
“No, a model for the whole world,” Martha said. “We shall pave the way for all the others.”
“Oh heavens above, Martha is on a roll again!” Rake muttered.
“Yes, indeed,” said Martha.
28
NOT ALL THE BANKNOTES HAD BEEN DISCOLORED, ONLY those that had been closest to the duvet covers. But still there was quite a lot to do. In the days that followed, the sauna room was transformed into a strange arena where Martha and her friends hung up newly washed five hundred-kronor banknotes with clothespins on long clotheslines. They had all scrubbed a little bit extra on the numbers and sometimes even ripped off a little bit of the edge, all in accordance with the instructions from Anna-Greta. As long as the banknotes were at least for the most part intact, the Bank of Sweden would replace the damaged ones—but, even though Anna-Greta knew about this, she still found it very hard to actually rip a genuine banknote.
The room was dominated by a strange smell of vinegar and acetone, but gradually the five hundred-kronor banknotes began to look really good. Of course, some of the banknotes were a bit pink on the edges—just like after an ordinary robbery of a security vehicle—and others had mysterious patterns after sticking against IKEA’s rabbits. But thankfully they had at least managed to get rid of all the animals with long ears, and that felt good.
After working hard in the sauna, the League of Pensioners could now sort the money according to pattern, color tone and wear. Admittedly, some notes still had a faint odor of vinegar, but that ought to disappear after a while. Pleased with their work, Martha and her friends now put the sorted millions in bundles into the laundry bags, put some dirty laundry on top and put everything in the laundry room. They would stay there while the League of Pensioners now and then sent a few notes to the Bank of Sweden for replacement.
When all this had been done, Martha relaxed a little and together with Anna-Greta talked about future plans.
Lawyer Hovberg had informed them that the Visa card and the company were ready and that the monthly transfers to the City Mission were working fine. It felt good to be supporting the City Mission which had schools as well as gave assistance to those in need, but of course it was even more fun to hand out the money themselves. When the first payments started to arrive at their account in Handelsbanken from the Bank of Sweden, the League of Pensioners started to look around for a place to rent. It was high time to start that Penshy Restaurant.
ONE CHILLY AUTUMN DAY, THE ENTIRE LEAGUE OF PENSIONERS set off to the new district at Hornsberg on Kungsholmen close to the center of Stockholm to look for a good place for a restaurant. They started their walk at Ekedal Bridge, wandered all the way along the lake, passed a swimming place, several restaurants and then got almost as far as Kristineberg. But everywhere the premises were already rented out or were far too small.
“It seems that we are a bit late,” Brains sighed, who, like the others, was now very tired. “Perhaps we must wait until something is for sale.”
“Wait? Ugh, we haven’t got time for that!” exclaimed Martha. “There must be something available. Why not ask at that cafe over there? The staff at places like that are usually well informed about what is going on in the area and, anyway, we need to liven ourselves up with a cup of coffee.”
“Yes, we ought to build up a circle of customers in the same area where we are planning our Pleasure Village,” Anna-Greta suggested.
“Righto, next stop the cafe,” said Rake, combing his hair and following the others.
It wasn’t a big cafe and when they entered, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit them. The tables had small white cloths and the birch wood chairs reminded them of 1950s Sweden. They sat down but were so tired that they didn’t have the energy to talk. They needed to recuperate for a while, each with a double espresso and a chocolate sweet before they got their strength back. Then Martha got up and went across to the cafe owner.
“We’re looking for a restaurant to rent. You don’t possibly know of anywhere available around here, do you?”
“Oh, I’ve no idea. You need to talk to Johan. He fixes everything.”
“Johan? Which Johan?”
The cafe owner didn’t answer immediately and the espresso machine hissed quite a while before he turned back to Martha.
“Johan Tanto. He and his family have several restaurants in this area. Good guy. He helped my friend start a pizzeria.”
Martha got his number, phoned and arranged a meeting. They agreed to meet outside the cafe and the following day the entire League of Pensioners traveled in to Hornsberg again. It was drizzling, gray and chilly, but here and there quite a lot of people were moving around.
“Johan, is he in his thirties?” Anna-Greta wondered when she caught sight of a young man lighting a cigarette outside the entrance. He was wearing a black sweater, gray winter coat and was bareheaded. Around his neck a necklace could be seen.
“Well, we only have to ask. Costs nothing,” Rake said. He took a step forward and stretched out his hand. “Johan?”
The man nodded, extinguished his cigarette and introduced himself as Johan Tanto. He had blonde, straggly hair, a ring in his ear and a tattoo visible above his collar. In the old days, a tattoo meant criminality or that you had been a seaman, Martha thought, but nowadays everybody had a tattoo. So how could you tell what people were like?
“I understand you are looking for a restaurant space. We’ve got a place over there!” he said, and without waiting for an answer he led them down toward the quay. The League of Pensioners found it hard to keep up because Johan walked rather fast. His movements were rapid, almost like a weasel.
“Here it is,” he said after a while and he stopped beside a large barge. “There was a restaurant here called Vinci and then it became an art gallery. But now that has moved to Södertälje. We thought that this could become a restaurant again. The premises are really nice and could be used for lots of things!”
“A barge,” said Christina, disappointed. She had imagined a cozy restaurant with a bowing headwaiter who received you in a glittering bar. On the other hand, the boat seemed to be in good condition. The hull was painted a dark green color, while the stern had a lighter shade of green and the gunwale and stays were gray. The old barge was moored with the long side against the quay and after the man had unlocked a gate they could walk on board. Christina noted that the gangplank was wide with proper railings and that there wasn’t much of a difference in height between the quay and the hull.
“Nowadays you must have everything accessible for the disabled,” said Johan when he saw Christina’s face. “But that’s how it should be, of course.”
He unlocked the door, took a step back and gave them room to pass.
“The barge is firmly secured and there is plenty of room for a good restaurant in there. But it needs quite a lot of work on the fittings, of course.”
“No problem at all, this is just what we want,” said Christina looking at the bare walls. Dreamily, she saw before her how at last they would have the space to hang up her paintings. Martha, for her part, hummed to herself. The inside of the barge had large, empty spaces, but on the other
hand, they could put up walls and fit it with tables and benches. There was even room for a sitting area and a bar.
“Where did this barge sail?” wondered Rake.
“It transported coal in the Mediterranean once upon a time,” answered the weasel-like man. “Then it was bought by a man from Finland who converted it into a restaurant and it ended up here.”
Martha took a deep breath and sniffed around. She, who was usually sensitive to damp, wasn’t troubled at all but actually found it warm and cozy. This would be suitable for elderly people with chest problems, she thought. Besides, the barge had railings and wheelchair ramps. This could be an Eldorado for seniors! The perfect place!
They went into the kitchen area and Christina noted that there were two cookers, a big workspace island in the middle, lots of cupboards, plenty of countertops and two dishwashing machines. Besides that, there was a very spacious kitchen sink stretching all down one long side of the room.
“This seems really fantastic,” she said and Anna-Greta nodded in agreement too. Even Brains seemed to be satisfied.
“Hmm. This doesn’t look at all bad. I can have a little corner workshop over there with a carpentry bench and tools for if something breaks. Besides, there is room for engines that I can work with when the restaurant isn’t open.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” said Martha and she went further into the premises. In the bows it was a little dark, but they could fix that with suitable lighting. And there was no harm in having it a little romantic, since they were going to have some speed dating. After going through all the space once more, the League of Pensioners made up their mind. The rent was low and the barge seemed to be in good condition. This is where they would open their Penshy Restaurant.
The next day, when they signed the contract, Martha noticed that Johan Tanto seemed stressed. He was fidgeting with the ring in his ear the whole time.
“You seem to have a lot going on,” she said.
“In this business things are always going at full speed,” he replied evasively, handing over the contract. His eyes were sharp and his movements fast. “Well, good luck, then!”
He had hardly had time to shake Martha’s hand before he showed her out through the door. Brains, who had been waiting for her outside, put his arm on her shoulders.
“You know, my dearest, we forgot something. We forgot to ask what happens if the barge sinks.”
29
A PERMIT FOR THIS AND A PERMIT FOR THAT! UNBELIEVABLE! If I’d known about all this bureaucracy, I wonder if I’d have suggested that we open a restaurant,” said Martha, red in the face with a fat bundle of papers in her hand. Her hair stood out in all directions and she breathed with short, panting breaths.
“Take your medicine, Martha dear,” Brains urged her in a worried voice and he didn’t give in until she had found her bronchial sprays and inhaled her daily dose. Then she quickly wiped her mouth, licked her lips and popped the inhaler into her handbag. She picked up the bundle of papers again.
“All these permits! We simply want to open a restaurant, not build a whole town!” she muttered.
The members of the League of Pensioners sat on the benches in front of a foldout table in the stern of the barge, all except Rake, who had sat down on an old seaman’s chest. In front of them lay the application forms, blueprints, sketches and color samples.
“Now listen. The premises must be approved for the preparation and serving of food. And also we need a permit to serve alcohol, of course,” said Martha.
“Ah, don’t bother about the permits. We’ve never been particularly law-abiding,” Anna-Greta put in.
“It says quite a lot about spirits too. To serve alcoholic beverages we must take a little exam about the alcohol laws,” Martha went on.
“I volunteer for that,” said Rake.
“But it isn’t about trying out spirits, it’s about knowing the laws, Rake,” Christina enlightened him.
“Oh, well, then I won’t bother,” Rake said.
“The restaurant premises must be registered with the building and environmental department as a place where foodstuffs are handled,” Martha read in a loud voice, “and when alcoholic beverages are served there must be an authorized person on the premises who is responsible and has good knowledge about the alcohol laws.”
“Oh heavens above, the five of us are almost five hundred years old together and we have drunk spirits for, well, at least more than four hundred years. What we don’t know about alcohol isn’t worth knowing. So, in that case, we can say that we have knowledgeable people on the premises,” Brains said, and immediately the others agreed with him.
“But listen to this too,” Martha went on as she pulled yet another piece of paper out of the bundle. “The department issuing permits shall examine the personal and economic background and suitability of the owners of the restaurant.”
“Examine us!” said Anna-Greta with a joyful cry, pushing up her 1950s spectacles onto her forehead. “If only they knew that our income goes to the Cayman Islands.”
“You mean we do our tax planning so that we can give away even more money, if I’ve understood this properly?” Christina stated, to be on the safe side.
“Yes indeed, that’s just how it is. Shady deals are not our style,” Martha confirmed.
“Oh really, then I must have misunderstood,” muttered Rake sarcastically.
“I heard that, Rake. But the League of Pensioners only gets involved where the government and parliament fail in their duties. Not otherwise,” Martha clarified.
“Government and parliament? Yes, right, Martha. You haven’t thought about becoming the boss of NATO too?” he answered, but only loud enough for Brains to hear. His comrade grinned.
“Ugh, all these regulations for every tiny thing. Now I know what we shall do, we’ll put up a list of them in the entrance so that the authorities will think that we follow them,” said Martha.
They all agreed that the logic of this was brilliant and Anna-Greta immediately pulled out her laptop. She composed a fancy-looking list of all the regulations and they agreed that Brains would frame this later and that they would hang it up in the entrance. That decided, they all thought they had finished the day’s discussion, but no:
“Now listen, it’s high time we decided on the decor,” Martha went on and she arranged a tea break. They all sat down on the red sofa on the afterdeck, and while Martha served tea with ginger and cloudberry liqueur, the five of them sank deep among the cushions. They had purchased the luxurious armchairs and the magnificent plush sofa for their future VIP guests. Eight comfortable velvet armchairs on a little raised stage framed with plants.
“Well?” Martha wondered, letting her gaze wander over the premises.
“I vote for model ships hanging from the ceiling,” said Rake. “They must be magnificent specimens, everything from clippers to steamboats. And it should smell of tarred rope.”
“That sounds lovely,” said Martha.
“Has anybody thought about banknotes?” Anna-Greta wondered. “Wouldn’t it be really fancy to frame them and hang them up on the walls? All sorts of different banknotes and denominations.”
“But Anna-Greta, that reminds us of work; I mean, bank robberies and such. No, forget it,” said Rake.
“Christina, you are the artist among us. How would you like to decorate the restaurant?” Martha wondered, turning to her friend. Martha had worried a long time that she decided too much herself and she was now going to let the others decide too—even if it was so, oh dear, so terribly difficult to give up control. And yes, why not delegate the responsibility to Christina, who was their own artist? She pushed the blueprints across to her friend.
“Christina, can you deal with this?”
And as she suspected, Christina immediately looked so extremely pleased that Martha felt really warm inside. Christina didn’t need any more encouragement but let her artistic soul take over.
“First and foremost I shall hang up my paintings,
but I’ve got another idea too. Do you remember the sauna at the Grand Hotel with that green light and the jungle music? Why not turn this into an exciting jungle landscape? Not a real jungle, of course, but a little romantic with tables among the trees and some stuffed animals.”
“A sort of local version of the National Museum of Nature?” asked Rake, pulling out his tobacco.
“I’m talking about a human environment where we say yes to nature.”
“Bla, bla,” said Rake.
Then Martha kicked him in the hollow of his knee so that he turned quiet. Sometimes you must be diplomatic, and now was not the right occasion to tease Christina.
For the whole afternoon the League of Pensioners continued their discussions and Martha, who had persuaded the others to agree to Christina being allowed to decide, now started to regret her own decision. Because whatever arguments the others put forward, Christina seemed impossible to stop. She insisted on the jungle theme and stuffed animals. The others said that this was a restaurant for people and not a zoo, but Christina was insistent. To start with, she had suggested twelve exotic animals, like lions and tigers, plus a bear, but now, after two hours of tiring negotiations, they had got her to choose a smaller number of beasts and those with more of a Scandinavian connection.
“OK. A badger, a bear, a monkey, a wild pig, a fox and a squirrel, I can go along with that,” Christina said forcefully. “But then we must have birds too.”
“You forgot the guinea pigs,” said Rake. “They are better and don’t take up so much space.”
Martha kicked him in the hollow of his knee again.
The Little Old Lady Behaving Badly Page 17
