When Jerry had checked out the discussion pages on different areas, there was one expression that had come up a few times, presumably posted by older people: running up and down the stairs. They complained that there was always somebody running up and down the stairs. Jerry had a feeling that Svedmyra was a place where there wasn’t a great deal of running up and down stairs. Enough said.
The apartment was on the top floor, and wasn’t much to get excited about. Two bedrooms with a view of some pine trees, a large bathroom with a washing machine and a living room with a kitchen area. The contract was one hundred and forty thousand kronor, and the black market agent had assured Jerry that the last person he’d heard of who got an apartment here through legal channels had been on the housing list for twelve years.
The minor and major criminals Jerry had come into contact with over the years would usually have been easy to pick in a line-up, but the agent looked so smart and trustworthy that Jerry became quite suspicious. Suit, neatly combed hair; ingratiating teeth.
If the agent had been a wide boy in a track suit and a gold chain, Jerry would have found it easier to cough up the fifty thousand he had brought with him for the deposit. In the circumstances, however, he refused to pay more than twenty-five. The agent went on at length about the fake contracts that had to be sorted out, the papers that had to be signed and so on, but Jerry stood his ground.
He took another walk round the apartment as the agent laid it on with a trowel, getting more and more annoyed. Jerry saw how he could have his computer desk next to the broadband outlet there, put the bed there, which room Theres would have and so on. He liked the place. When the agent said he wasn’t prepared to do a deal unless Jerry paid a deposit of at least forty thousand, Jerry said he wasn’t prepared to move from twenty-five, but that he would pay an extra ten on top once the whole thing had gone through. One hundred and fifty thousand in total.
Twenty-five one-thousand-kronor notes changed hands, and they shook on it.
Sitting on the subway and then on the bus to Norrtälje, Jerry was quite pleased with himself. If he’d been conned, then it wasn’t the end of the world. He had a good three hundred thousand tucked away from his internet poker.
But he hadn’t been conned. A week later he was able to collect the keys, sign the contract and hand over the rest of the money for the apartment where he would be living with his daughter, according to the official version.
The move itself was a problem. Jerry didn’t have all that many possessions, but there were a number of things he couldn’t carry down the stairs by himself. The bed, the sofa, the bookcases. Among other things. There was no one he could ask for help, and even if Theres could have carried one end, he didn’t dare let her be seen like that in Norrtälje.
He would have to use removalists.
On the designated day he explained to Theres that a couple of men would be coming to help them move their things to Stockholm. She was terrified, her eyes darting all over the apartment in the quest for a place to hide. Jerry coaxed her into the bathroom, where she locked herself in.
Quarter of an hour later the doorbell rang, and outside stood two lads who made Jerry shrink on the spot. Now he understood the name of their company, Twin Transport. Two identical lads aged about twenty-five wearing overalls towered above him. Both were over two metres tall. Jerry’s hand disappeared inside a huge paw as they said hello.
They emptied the bedroom and kitchen in no time, and Jerry soon abandoned any attempt to help when he realised this was a smooth ballroom dance, with furniture and boxes as props, and he was only getting in the way. The only thing he insisted on carrying down himself was the computer. He had recently upgraded to the latest Mac, and he wanted to make sure the box containing the computer didn’t get squashed.
The huge removal van was no more than a third full and only the sofa in the living room remained, as Jerry carefully placed the box next to the bookcase and made sure it was safe. The twins stood watching him with their arms folded, smiling indulgently. Jerry followed them up the stairs. As they were approaching his floor he heard a door close; presumably Hirsfeldt, being nosey until the last possible moment.
Mats (or it might have been Martin) stopped in the doorway and said, ‘Hello?’ When Jerry caught up with them he saw through the gap between their backs that Theres had emerged from the bathroom for some reason, and was standing in the hallway, her fists clenched by her sides, staring wide-eyed at the twins.
The big people, Jerry thought. If Theres had strange ideas about adults, the sight of the twins was unlikely to help much.
Jerry said quietly, ‘My daughter. She’s a bit…different.’
As if to confirm his statement Theres began slowly backing away into the living room. When the twins cheerfully moved towards her, she held her hands up in front of her for protection as she continued to walk backwards.
‘Theres,’ said Jerry, who couldn’t get past the massive backs, ‘Theres, they’re not dangerous. They’re helping us.’
Theres moved into the almost empty living room. She cast a panic-stricken glance at the balcony door, and for a moment he thought she was going to throw herself out.
‘Theres. What a lovely name,’ said one of the twins, distracting her sufficiently to stop her making a dash for the balcony door before that particular escape route was blocked. Instead, like the very small child she resembled at that moment, she threw herself on the sofa and pulled the blanket over her head.
Mats and Martin looked at one another, grinned and said, ‘OK, kid-here we go.’ Before Jerry could stop them they each picked up one end of the sofa. Incapable of coming up with a better solution, he dashed out onto the landing and positioned himself so that he was blocking the view from the spy hole in Hirsfeldt’s door as Mats and Martin carried the sofa downstairs. He didn’t dare to imagine what Theres must be feeling as she lay there quivering under her blanket, unceremoniously carted out of her safe haven.
When the twins had placed the sofa in the van and Jerry had managed to persuade them to stop trying to coax Theres out, he sat down beside her and whispered, ‘Sis? Sis? Everything’s fine. I’m here and they’re not dangerous, I promise.’ He fumbled under the blanket and found her hand, squeezed it. A gesture that would have been unthinkable just a week ago.
When the twins had brought down the last of the boxes and were ready to set off, Theres refused to leave her cocoon. Jerry tried to get up, but she squeezed his hand harder and hissed, ‘Don’t go. Don’t go.’
Jerry weighed up the situation, then asked the twins: ‘Is it OK if we ride with you? In the back?’ The twins shrugged and said well, it was against the rules really, but…Jerry seized the moment and said they could add an extra couple of hours to the invoice. It had been cheaper than he expected anyway, because the twins had worked so fast.
He dug out another blanket and wrapped himself in it, then found the torch in one of the boxes. When the doors closed and he switched on the torch, he thought it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. They could avoid the midnight taxi ride Jerry had been planning to get Theres out of Norrtälje without the risk of being spotted by anyone he knew.
When Jerry was young, he had had the usual fantasies about leaving Norrtälje and returning many years later to great acclaim, giving major interviews to the local press. He’d given all that up long ago, and resigned himself to becoming quietly embalmed in his desolate apartment.
Even though he was now travelling in a dark removal van like a thief in the night, at least he had finally escaped. Good or bad? Difficult to say, but as the van bumped along and Jerry tried to visualise the places they were passing, he felt a small stirring of excitement. He was on his way. At last.