The Little Old Lady Behaving Badly

by Catharina Ingelman-Sundberg

  “Mind your manners!” roared Martha.

  Brains scratched his beard and frowned. “Listen. If one person at the table writes that he wants a happy, medium-height woman who likes to bake, and a woman writes that she is of medium height, a happy person who likes pastries, then they can continue to chat on the iPad. She can write what kinds of cakes she likes to bake, and he can write what kinds of cakes he likes to eat,” he went on.

  “Women bake and men eat?” Christina snorted. “Ugh! That’s the 1950s. Nowadays men bake too, just so you know. When did you last bake a cake for Martha?”

  Brains just sat there with his mouth open and forgot what he was going to say. After prodding his beard with his finger for a while he started up again.

  “Yes, well, the iPads and the places around the table have the same number and when the lamp has started to flash at place eleven, for example, then you can start chatting with that person on the iPad directly. If it seems like it might be a decent date, then you press OK—”

  “No, you suggest a beer. Come, darling, let’s have a beer,” Rake chipped in. “Are there apps for that?”

  “What I mean is, when you strike lucky, then you go with your newly found friend to the dating corner and have a beer. And if you still like the woman—”

  “The guy,” Anna-Greta cut in.

  “Yes, then you continue with a nice dinner together here on the barge.”

  “And we charge scandalous prices for the food. Fantastic, Brains!” Anna-Greta exclaimed.

  They all looked at him with such admiration that he blushed and Martha couldn’t help but slip her hand into his.

  “You know what?” she said, then took a deep breath. “Now you have created the world’s first dating table.”

  “Yes, by God, this is going to be where it all happens!” declared Rake.

  37

  ONLY ONE DAY TO GO. IT WAS NOW TIME FOR THE LONG-AWAITED evening with speed dating and Anna-Greta rushed around on the barge with a confused look. For the first time in her life she had actually constructed her very own computer program and the iPads now had a special app.

  She and Brains had tweaked the system so that it worked roughly like a Facebook group. The dating traffic would only take place on board the boat among those who participated there and the questionnaire would not disappear into cyberspace so that everybody could see it and take part.

  Those who had paid the admission fee for the barge got the code to the iPads and could go up to them and click their way in. Then all you had to do was press discreetly on the app and the questionnaire appeared. The participants must answer the twenty-five questions that the League of Pensioners had concocted, and describe themselves and what they looked for in a prospective partner. Then the computer program quickly found the person who best matched the criteria, the lamp lit up in front of just that person, and the flirting could get going.

  “This is going to work perfectly,” said Anna-Greta. “Press a button and find your beloved!”

  “Couldn’t be better,” said Brains, pleased with himself after having set up eight different colored lamps at each place. Anna-Greta had insisted that it would be lovely with colors that could show various personal qualities. And if a person had more than five positive qualities, a lamp would light up with a glittering glow: the gold lamp.

  “And then you’ll understand that you’ve found the ultimate date,” said Anna-Greta, throwing out her arms. For a moment she had a really dreamy look in her eyes.

  “But if everybody wants to date that particular person, what then?” Rake wondered.

  “No problem. Then you can wait until the person is available or move on to the next one,” said Christina. “We have a silver lamp too.”

  “Yes, and I even put in one which lights up with a bronze glow,” said Brains now rather proud of having installed all the wiring under the dating table. All they needed now was for an electrician to check it all.

  “A bronze glow? Um, then you just comb your hair and flirt as usual,” Rake muttered. “We can call the dating corner ‘To the point.’” And it was rather clear what he thought the point was.

  “Goodness me, no! You can keep your point to yourself. Haven’t you realized yet that we are looking out for inner qualities?” sighed Christina.

  “How on earth can you look out for something inner?” mumbled Rake.

  At that same moment Betty happened to walk past with her shiny, red hair curled behind her ears. She was nicely made up and smelled of perfume and walked with sexy, slightly jerky, movements. Brains swallowed and watched as she moved away.

  “It is important to find out about somebody’s inner qualities. Beauty can be misleading,” Martha informed them with a voice like a laser. “A beautiful appearance can lead anyone down the wrong path.”

  “Well, we’re only human,” sighed Brains.

  LATER IN THE AFTERNOON WHEN THE ELECTRICIAN HAD CHECKED the wiring and approved the connections to the twelve dating places, the League of Pensioners decided to try it out. Amidst laughing and chatter, Martha and her friends filled in all the questions and sent off their dating cards. For every hit, a lamp lit up, and when Rake had got so many hits that the gold lamp lit up, he was so proud that you couldn’t talk to him for a long while. When Martha had filled in what she wished for in a partner and the lamp suddenly lit up next to Brains, she got a little embarrassed. Almost simultaneously, the lamp next to her lit up, and when she looked up, she met Brains’s gaze. They both looked down at the table rather awkwardly. They had fallen out and hadn’t really got over that, but deep inside they were actually extremely fond of each other.

  The League of Pensioners also wrote small messages and sent them off just to make sure that everything worked. Afterwards, they fetched rugs, drew a curtain on which was printed: SLEEPING, and lay down on the VIP lounge’s plush sofas for a nice afternoon snooze. It wasn’t long before they were all deeply asleep.

  A LITTLE WHILE LATER, WHEN BETTY CAME ON BOARD WITH THE day’s flower arrangement—Rake had managed to get them to agree to having fresh flowers every day—she heard snoring coming from the VIP lounge. She smiled to herself because the seniors had greater ambitions than they could cope with and she often found them asleep in there. Excellent, now she would have a calm period before Martha gave her orders, Christina rushed around and Brains wanted to talk about everything between heaven and earth. She was just about to walk past when she noticed the dating table. It was evidently complete now and everything was ready for the evening. She put down her flower buckets, took a few steps forward and looked at the result. Twelve numbered iPads with lamps around them lay chained to each place at the table. She had to smile to herself. Those retirees were just so sweet! Arranging dates at their age!

  She got curious and went up to place number three, her lucky number. Now what was the password for the iPad? She tried to remember. Brains had told her, but she hadn’t really been listening properly. The name of the boat perhaps? She tested. No, that didn’t work. What about A39T, the number on the barge? Yep, now she could start up the iPad. To think that the seniors had managed to set all this up. That stern lady with the walking stick was evidently very clever. Admirable! Betty caught sight of the dating app and opened it. Aha, twenty-five questions had to be answered. She held back a little laugh. You had to fill in whether you were nice, kindhearted, generous and lots of other things. And a bit further down on the questionnaire you could check if you often got angry or were calm and sensible. Such a good idea, she thought, because she had once fallen in love with a handsome guy who had such mood swings that she had had to break it off after four months. With this app she would have discovered his personality right away.

  For fun, Betty started to answer the questions and soon she had filled in the entire questionnaire. As she completed it, a red lamp lit up on the other side of the table which made her take a step back in fright. What was this all about? Could she delete all the answers and go back to the start? She tried to fill in the
questionnaire again and this time ticked other qualities. But the red lamp didn’t go out; instead another lamp started to flash, this time a green one. If she went on like this, the whole room would soon look like a nightclub before she was finished. She wasn’t sure what to do. How did you turn the damn thing off? She pressed a few buttons but the lamps were still lit up. In the end, she gave up and assumed that they would probably turn off by themselves, just like a computer screen did, if you didn’t use it for a while. But before she left, she couldn’t resist having a bit of a joke and she wrote: Hello, darling, I love you! under the category “Other.” She smiled to herself and pressed “Send” without really knowing where it would end up. But what the hell, it would cheer somebody up. Satisfied, she picked up the flower buckets and went toward the kitchen. It was high time to put the flowers in vases and start decorating the boat.

  38

  BUT SERIOUSLY, CHRISTINA. IS IT REALLY TIME TO START WITH the Christmas decorations now in the middle of November?” Martha wondered the next day, gesturing toward the deck. Christina had put up a Christmas tree with colorful angels on it, there were lights on the restaurant roof and glitter around every stay. Here and there hung glass balls and red lanterns, and instead of the usual old car tires between the barge and the quay she had now hung up fenders in white and blue. Together with the flashing lamps she had put on either side of the entrance down to the VIP lounge, the Silver Punk restaurant now looked almost more like a nightclub than a restaurant.

  “Christmas decorations? There is nothing wrong with them, surely?”

  “Sorry, Christina, but we do have flowers as well. And those colored fenders, isn’t that just going too far?”

  “But colors are so nice, don’t you think? A guy in a Mercedes stopped on the quay yesterday, pointed at our ugly old tires and wondered if we would like some attractive fenders instead. Well, yes, so I thought we should take that chance. He said that he had bought too many for his own boat and didn’t need them. It was cheap, too, and he had them in his trunk. He got out some rope and helped to put them in place. You must admit it looks much nicer now.”

  “Yes, of course,” mumbled Martha, but deep inside she thought that Christina decided far too much on her own; she did lots of things without asking the others. Martha herself always took up her ideas with the rest of the gang, but Christina just charged ahead. It is a good idea to delegate, Martha thought, but then you risked some people exceeding their ability. She just hoped that wasn’t going to apply to her friend. Martha didn’t say any more, but to be on the safe side, she decided to keep an eye on her. She was relieved that Christina had decided that the cook should be in charge of the kitchen this important evening, because Anna-Greta had asked her to help look after the dating table. And that was something that Christina was certainly passionate about. The idea of bringing lonely people together so that they could have a more pleasant life had inspired her to such a degree that she had contacted the media. Radio Stockholm and the Kungsholmen district local paper had reported about this new way to meet people, and the restaurant was fully booked for the rest of the week. However, the massive interest was driving Christina nuts. She had been nervous earlier, but now she was close to being a nervous wreck. So Martha had secretly added a bit of rum to their morning coffee and had said that it was a special Colombian blend. After two cups of this special coffee (because it was so tasty, she thought), Christina had—thank God—relaxed and become much happier. And that was lucky for everybody because the restaurant was already full at 6 o’clock and it was high time to open the day’s speed dating.

  FORMER CHIEF INSPECTOR BLOMBERG HAD DRESSED SMARTLY and stood preening himself in front of the hall mirror. In his gray tweed suit, blue lamb’s wool sweater, light-blue shirt and matching tie with cats on it, he felt he was really stylish. His shoes were polished to a shine, his hair freshly cut and he didn’t have a beard—nor did he have any hair lotion. No, certainly not. He had heard that many women liked men to smell like men, not of cologne, so he made a point of being clean and tidy and that was all there was to it. He ran his fingers through his hair a few times before selecting a scarf that matched his antique gray overcoat. Then he brushed some dandruff off his collar and put on his newly purchased Russian fur hat with earflaps. The new restaurant Silver Punk was actually very close to the police station on Kungsholmen, and since it had been rated four stars in the local paper there was a great risk that his old colleagues might go there. Preferably, as a private sleuth with his own detective agency, he didn’t want to be recognized, but wished to be able to work in peace. Then there was another aspect: the article had mentioned that the restaurant was introducing Stockholm’s first speed dating which used a professional computer program to help you quickly find the love of your life. A tasty meal, dating, and, to top it all off, a bit of private detective work—it all suited him perfectly. Besides, he could deduct the cost as expenses for his firm as long as he remembered to keep the receipts.

  Humming to himself he went out into the street and walked a few extra blocks before he reached the bus stop (the health experts had preached that if you got on a bus, you should not go to the nearest bus stop but go to one a bit further away so that you had some exercise). One bus had just left, and with an irritated snort he pulled up his collar and pulled down his earflaps. The lights of the city were reflected by the sky high above the rooftops and the sound of traffic could be heard in the distance. Everything was like it always had been, but he himself had changed his life. Admittedly, it was nice to be able to do your own thing, but earlier in life he had been married and now that he was a retiree he felt a little lonely. He got along with Einstein, but something was missing. A woman, yes, that was what he needed. He found it far too easy to stay sitting in front of the TV or computer and then, of course, nothing happened. Now, at last, the Silver Punk restaurant had got him to act. Because the target group for the restaurant was retirees, i.e., people his age, but even younger guests frequented the place too, the papers said. And if there were lots of elderly people there, he might come across something that would lead him to the seniors who had robbed the bank. Now he could look out for crooks and women at the same time. Talk about killing two birds with one stone!

  He changed buses outside the Central Station and finally got off at a bus stop in Hornsberg (he didn’t bother to get off one or two stops early; there was no need to go to extremes). He walked along the quay and didn’t need to look long before he saw an illuminated barge with glitter in the stays and a brightly decorated Christmas tree up on the roof: the Silver Punk restaurant. Outside, there was a long line of people dressed for an evening out and when he came closer, he noticed the aroma of spices, cheese and grilled vegetables. Hungry, he fished out his policemen’s association card so that he wouldn’t have to wait in line, but then he remembered that it was out of date. Anyway, he was, of course, meant to be incognito. He glanced at the long line and with a sigh put the card back in his pocket.

  Finally, half an hour later, he had got on board. He left his overcoat in the coatroom and combed his hair; now he ordered a beer in the bar and started to look at the ladies. He felt the butterflies in his stomach. Many of the women looked really rather nice and they were so well made up! They must have read many magazines and watched many makeover shows on TV, he thought. Nowadays a lot of older ladies also went to the gym. Indeed, many of the fifty-plus ladies here looked very fit, in every respect, and you would probably feel muscles instead of fat if you got your hand on their thighs.

  He fumbled with the entrance ticket which included a round at the dating table, and felt rather exhilarated. Trying to look nonchalant, he went up to the Piet Hein-inspired table full of expectation and gave a start when he saw the iPads chained to the table top. What on earth? He circled the table once more and looked closer at the iPads. Aha, they were for the dating. But surely his requests wouldn’t be stored there? And what were those weird lamps? Holes had been drilled into the table top and small different col
ored lamps stuck up out of them, framing the iPads. Ah yes, the newspaper had written something about how the lamps would light up in front of the person or persons who had the qualities you were looking for. And in the same way, the lamps in front of your own iPad would light up if you yourself met the requirements that somebody else was looking for. He fumbled after his beer glass and drank to the last drop. Good heavens! This could actually be the real thing!

  WHEN CHRISTINA SAW THAT THE DATING TABLE WAS FULL, SHE went up to the expectant guests, held out her arms and said in a shrill voice:

  “Ladies and gentlemen, a heartfelt welcome to our little speed dating!” Her cheeks were red, and she was forever brushing away her long, wavy hair which fell down over her face—because she hadn’t learned how to fasten the fake hair in the correct way. (On one occasion, the entire hairpiece had followed along with her hand.) She looked around and smiled as heartily and warmly as she could, but all who knew her noticed how nervous she was. She had scratched away the nail polish from the thumb nail on her right hand without realizing it, and her hairpiece was a little crooked. Anna-Greta had seen it, but didn’t want to make Christina even more nervous, so she didn’t say anything. They had their work cut out as it was. There was so much pressure around the dating table that they had been obliged to provide numbered tickets and to fix a time limit of fifteen minutes for each iPad. The eager participants longing for a romantic date would have to settle for that, after which they would be shepherded into the dating corner at the bar. But there, on the other hand, they could have a beer in peace and quiet and chat with each other before hopefully continuing into the restaurant for a tasty dish.

  The first dating round started somewhat cautiously, but after the lamps started to light up, things got going. A gentleman in a tweed suit, blue lamb’s wool sweater and a tie with cats on it, had got several “hits” and the lamps next to him were flashing all the time. His mood was improving too, and the slightly cautious, suspicious look he had shown at first had now been transformed into happy, glistening eyes. After a while, he went off with a lady to the dating corner where they continued to chat, but then he came back and started again.