Chapter 18
September arrived with a chilly wind and cold air.
Jenny had stopped doing yoga outside; it was already too wet and cold and Emelie missed her.
Now she didn’t have anything to look at while doing the dishes in the morning or after she had walked the girls to school.
Before Linn went to work, she had informed Emelie that she had bought all the ingredients for the mulled and that it was time to make the first batch so that they had time to test it in a couple of weeks.
If it turned out nice she would make a bigger batch for the market and if it didn’t, she had plenty of time to try again and still be able to serve a nice tasting glogg at the market.
“Can you go down and fetch me the bottles in the cellar? We are going to need them for the mulled wine,” Emelie said.
“Oh, but it’s scary down there,” she said, distorting her voice.
Linn laughed.
“Come on, mum, it’s just down the stairs and they’re right there! Easy peasy!”
“Easy for you to say when you are not the one going down there,” Emelie scoffed and dried soapy water off her hands.
But then she smiled and shoved Linn out the door.
“Get out you, I’ll handle it.”
Linn waved to her and took off. Emelie walked back into the kitchen and looked at all the ingredients standing on the little table.
It would have been great to have the big kitchen table to make mulled wine, but Andreas wasn’t ready with it yet so they would have to make do with the small table, the worktop and in worst case – the floor.
Emelie looked at the different bags, reading their labels: cloves, cardamom seeds, cinnamon sticks, raisins, ginger.
There were several bottles of malt beer as well, and potatoes, sugar and yeast. She had no idea how to make mulled wine, but Linn had Astrid’s recipe from the book, so she had it covered.
She looked out into garden and Andreas’ cottage.
Their so-called date was already forgotten as she was certain that Linn was still Andreas’ favourite on the island.
She sighed. The cottage door opened, and Andreas stepped out.
He looked up and waved and she smiled at him.
He had a torch in his hand, and that gave her an idea.
She knocked on the window and waved at him, telling him to come inside.
“Hello there, how’s it going?”
His eyes…oh to hell with them, she said to herself.
“Can you help me with something? Linn is making mulled wine…”
“From scratch?”
“Yes, it’s Astrid’s old recipe.”
Andreas nodded and smacked his lips.
“Oh, it’s delicious, if she gets it right.”
“I know nothing about it, that’s all Linn, but she needs bottles, and they are down in the cellar,” Emelie said.
“Do you need some help carrying them?”
“Yes, exactly, and I can see you have a flashlight. Mine is probably broken and the light down there isn’t working either, and the windows are super filthy so there’s hardly any light coming through that way.”
She was pleased that she didn’t have to say that she feared the cellar and that there might be a ghost living there. Andreas stretched a bit and nodded.
“Sure, right now? I have half an hour before I have to be at the nursery.”
The cellar door creaked loudly when she pulled it open.
It was a heavy thing made of oak, and if anyone wanted to break in, it would be easier to pick the door on the ground floor, but no one used that.
Emelie didn’t even know if it still opened, she had never tried.
The cold, still air hit them and Emelie shivered a little.
Andreas walked in front of her, flashlight in hand.
He walked carefully down the stairs taking one step at a time but after three steps he came to a sudden halt and Emelie bumped into his back with the hand that she had been holding in front of her. He turned off the flashlight.
“What are you doing? We can’t see anything like that,” she whispered.
Why was she whispering? It wasn’t like anyone could hear her.
“Shh…”
She stopped talking and looked around, but the room was pitch dark.
There was a tiny window right under the ceiling, but just as Emelie had guessed, it was too dirty for any light to find its way in.
The cellar was large but stretched under the stairs so they couldn’t see the whole room without going down the stairs first. But she could definitely hear a sound.
As if someone was pulling something over the floor.
Not heavy furniture, more like when Emelie was moving the boxes of Christmas decorations around in the attic.
She was rather certain that it was the same sound that she had heard at night when she thought she was just imagining things.
“What is it?” she whispered.
Andreas carefully started walking down the stair again; one step at a time, and with each step the fear in Emelie’s chest grew stronger, and without thinking about what she was doing, she reached for Andreas’ hand.
When they had made it all the way down, they noticed a faint, flickering light that was moving towards the back of the cellar, close to the door.
Andreas turned towards her and whispered into her ear:
“It sounds like someone is here. I’ll point the flashlight straight forwards and turn it on, and then we might catch them in the act.”
Emelie’s fear disappeared when she felt Andreas so close to her, and she felt his breath on her neck. He smelled like mint. And then he talked about in the act…Goodness…She came to her senses as he squeezed her hand again.
“All right?”
She nodded and squeezed back, even though she would prefer to just stand here, having him close to her.
She heard him lift the flashlight and then he turned on the light and the room was bathed in light.
Someone shrieked and Andreas and Emelie too started yelling.
When her eyes had adjusted to the bright light, Emelie squinted at the room in front of her. A figure escaped from the shadows.
“Birgitta?
A couple of meters in front of them was her neighbour with eyes as big as saucers, looking like a deer in headlights.
In her arms was a cardboard box and her blue cardigan was covered in dust. The short hair that used to be neatly combed against her head was messy and there was a cobweb stuck to one side of it.
She was wearing a headtorch which blinked once and went out.
“What are you doing in my cellar? And what is it that you’re holding? How did you get in?”
Birgitta stared into the floor.
“I have a key,” she said quietly.
“What? You have a key for Astrid’s house? I mean Emelie’s house?” Andreas asked her.
Birgitta nodded.
“I’m sorry. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to frighten anyone, but I really need that piece of paper that we discussed, Emelie, and I was thinking it might be down here and that I would be able to find it…”
Her voice disappeared. Emelie felt shaken and relieved at the same time.
Relieved that it wasn’t a ghost after all and shaken about the fact that had it was her neighbour that seemed so proper and sound.
She looked around and noticed the bottles that were standing on a bench along the wall.
She rubbed her forehead, looking from Birgitta to the bottles and over to Andreas.
“Well, okay. We can carry these bottles upstairs now and then I’ll make some coffee. I need to calm down a little. Then maybe you can tell us what it is that is so intriguing in my cellar that you had to break in,” Emelie said, looking harshly at Birgitta.
Birgitta nodded and put the box away. Emelie grabbed four dirty bottles from the bench and started walking back up the stairs. The two others followed her upstairs.
When they had cleared the kitchen table and put the mulled wine ingredients on the floor and in the larder and the bottles on the counter, Emelie served them coffee in the Christmas cups that were still left in the cupboard.
Birgitta sat down on the edge of one of the farm chairs and kept her hands clasped in her lap.
When Emelie poured the coffee, she quietly thanked her, poured a spoonful of sugar into her cup and grabbed the drink with both hands as if she wanted to warm herself, even though the kitchen was nice and toasty. Andreas had his coffee standing up.
“I need to get over to the nursery, and I suppose the two of you have some things to discuss,” he said, smiling at Emelie who nodded.
“Thanks for all your help.”
“I can fix the cellar light tonight,” he said.
“That sounds nice, we’ll be home,” she said, smiling.
As the door closed behind him, she turned towards Birgitta. She could barely recognise the boisterous and determined old lady that had come into her kitchen like she owned the place the same day they moved in. She looked so small and fragile where she was sitting.
“Birgitta, what were you doing in my cellar?”
Birgitta sighed, twisting her hands.
“Oh, this is so embarrassing, but I will tell you.”
“Yes, I don’t think you have much of a choice,” Emelie said, rather crossly.
Birgitta took a deep breath and nodded. Then she turned towards the window facing her own house and pointed.
“You know our porch?”
Emelie nodded.
“We built it three years ago and we are so happy with it. Isn’t it lovely?
Emelie crossed both arms over her chest and waited for Birgitta to continue. But she seemed to expect an answer.
“Isn’t it lovely? Don’t you think so?”
“Goodness, woman, get to the point, I don’t give a sod about your porch,” Emelie said while impatiently picking the Santa Claus in bas-relied on her coffee cup.
Birgitta nodded nervously.
“Yes, well you see the porch is on your land. Or not exactly on your land, but close enough that it required Astrid’s consent. She kept saying that it wasn’t a problem and that she was going to okay it. She got all the papers and…and…then she died.”
Her voice broke and her eyes started wandering.
“But I don’t understand, the porch is right there,” Emelie said, pointing. Obviously, you have gotten your porch, so I don’t understand what the problem is.”
She looked on the clock on the wall. She was tired of this old, difficult lady and she wanted an explanation.
“The porch is lovely! We are so happy with it, but we don’t have Astrid’s approval.
That’s the problem. But Astrid said that she would sign it, or that she had, I don’t quite remember.
And then in June we received a letter from the municipality about them lacking the approval.
” Birgitta’s face suddenly lit up again.
“And then I was thinking that it must be somewhere around the house? I figured I would sneak in and have a look before anyone took over the house, but you came so quickly! And well, then I had to look a bit on my own.”
She smiled at Emelie with eyes that were begging for forgiveness. Emelie was thinking hard. Did it really matter to her? Suddenly, and out of the blue Birgitta started crying uncontrollably.
“You…you…if she hasn’t given her approval, we have to te-e-ear down the porch, and my husband is a-a-a-lways sitting there…”
Her voice got louder, and she finished the sentence with a long howling sound and Emelie just stared at the old lady and the total mental breakdown that she was witnessing in her own kitchen.
“And I can’t te-e-a-r down the po-o-orch!”
Birgitta had shrieked the last part so loudly that Emelie jumped and got busy. She squatted next to the old lady, stroking her arm.
“No worries, hey. We’ll have to have a look for it together, you and me, you won’t have to tear down the porch. And if we can’t find the paper, then maybe I can approve it?!”
She handed Birgitta a Christmas napkin with a chubby Santa bathed in moonlight, and Birgitta used it to dry her eyes and cheeks.
It was a dark blue and vibrant red colour, and Emelie was hoping it wouldn’t stain her face.
She calmly stroked Birgitta’s back and she slowly stopped sobbing.
Birgitta turned her face up and towards her, she had a red shimmer under one of her eyes and her other cheek was blue and glittery.
“Hold on, wait a second,” Emelie said, fetching a wet wipe.
She grabbed Birgitta’s chin and dried her cheeks the same way she had dried millions of tear-stained children’s cheeks before. Birgitta took a deep breath, smiling through the tears.
“Thank you for being so kind to an old, crazy lady,” she said, taking a few deep breaths to bring her pulse down to normal.
“No worries. We’re just going to have to keep looking in the cellar, if that’s where you believe the document is?”
“I don’t know where Astrid used to keep her papers and maybe it’s not very likely it would be in the cellar. It’s some rather important papers. But you’ve gone through the rest of the house, haven’t you?”
“Yes, there were some papers in the drawer in her bedroom, but not the permission you’re looking for. I didn’t find that. When Andreas has changed the light down in the cellar tonight we can keep looking, okay?”
Birgitta’s sad eyes looked a little more cheerful, and she stroked Emelie’s arm.
“I’m so sorry for all of this. I feel so stupid. What was I thinking? I should have just talked to you.”
They both agreed that it would have been easier than Birgitta sneaking around the cellar at night scaring her half to death.
Birgitta rinsed her face in the guest bathroom in the hallway and then went back home, but first they decided that she would come back the following day to look when there was light in the cellar.
Emelie dropped down into the sofa, amazed about the sheer number of events that could take place on a small island that seemed like the world’s calmest place.
She had just closed her eyes and almost drifted off to sleep when her phone beeped.
“Did you find the bottles? I’d love to start on the mulled wine when I get back at 3 o’clock. I got off early ?.”
That’s right, the bottles. Emelie answered that they had found them, and that she was about to clean them. Then she pulled herself from her comfortable sofa, put on Ed Sheeran on Spotify and started washing the bottles.