Spending Saturday afternoon and evening squeezed between others at a table and eating vegetables with a strained but courteous smile on your face was part of the same obligation.
Erik lifted down a stack of plates from a cupboard above the worktop while Frida counted knives and forks. I took a sip of wine and could feel how hungry I was. Stella stopped in the doorway, her face red and a little sweaty.
‘Is it time for the cake now?’ she called.
Frida swivelled round.
‘Soon, sweetheart. But first we have to eat some proper food.’
Her attention wandered from the child to those sitting around the table.
‘The food’s ready,’ she said. ‘Help yourselves. There are the plates and cutlery. And you can take some food for your children too.’
‘Ah, that sounds good,’ Linus said, getting up. ‘What is there?’
I had planned to stay seated until the queue had died down. When I saw what Linus had returned with — beans, salad, the ever-present couscous and a hot dish I assumed was chickpea casserole — I got up and went into the kitchen.
‘Food’s in there,’ I said to Linda, who was standing with Vanja wrapped around her legs and Heidi in her arms chatting to Mia. ‘Shall we swap?’
‘Yes, that’s good,’ Linda said. ‘I’m ravenous.’
‘Can we go home now, daddy?’ Vanja said.
‘But we’re eating,’ I said. ‘And afterwards there’s cake. Shall I get you some food?’
‘Don’t want anything,’ she said.
‘I’ll get you something anyway,’ I said, and took Heidi by the arm. ‘And you come with me.’
‘Heidi’s had a banana, by the way,’ Linda said. ‘But she’ll probably want some food as well.’
‘Come on, Theresa, let’s go and get something for you,’ Mia said.
I followed them in, lifted Heidi into my arms and stood in the queue. She rested her head against my shoulder, which she only did when she was tired. My shirt stuck to my chest. Every face I saw, every glance I met, every voice I heard, hung like a lead weight on me. When I was asked a question, or asked a question myself, it was as if the words had to be dynamited out. Heidi made it easier, having her there was a kind of protection, both because I had something to occupy myself with and because her presence diverted others’ attention. They smiled at her, asked if she was tired and stroked her cheek. A large part of my relationship with Heidi was based on me carrying her. It was the basis of our relationship. She always wanted to be carried, never wanted to walk, stretched up her arms as soon as she saw me, and smiled with pleasure whenever she was allowed to hang from my arms. And I liked having her close, the little chubby creature with the greedy mouth.
I put some beans, a couple of spoonfuls of chickpea casserole and a dollop of couscous on a plate and carried it into the living room, where all the children were sitting around the low table in the middle, with a helpful parent behind.
‘Don’t want anything,’ Vanja said as soon as I set the plate in front of her.
‘That’s OK,’ I said. ‘You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to. But do you think Heidi wants some?’
I speared some beans on the fork and raised it to her mouth. She pinched her lips together and twisted her head away.
‘Come on now,’ I said. ‘I know you’re both hungry.’
‘Can we play with the train?’ Vanja asked.
I looked at her. Normally she would have stared either at the train set or up at me, begging as often as not, but now she was staring straight ahead.
‘Of course we can,’ I said. I put Heidi down and went to the corner of the room where I had to press my knees against my body, almost into my chest, to make room between the tiny children’s furniture and the toy boxes. I took the railway track apart and passed it piece by piece to Vanja, who tried to reassemble it. When the pieces didn’t fit she forced them together with all her strength. I waited until she was on the point of throwing them down in fury before intervening. Heidi constantly wanted to tear the track up, and my eyes searched for something to give her as a diversion. A puzzle? A cuddly toy? A little plastic pony with large eyelashes and a long pink synthetic mane? She hurled all of them away.
‘Daddy, can you help me?’ Vanja said.
‘Course I can,’ I said. ‘Look. Let’s put a bridge here, so the train can go over and under it. That’ll be good, won’t it.’
Heidi grabbed one of the bridge pieces.
‘Heidi!’ Vanja said.
I took it from her, and she began to scream. I took her in my arms and stood up.
‘I can’t do it!’ Vanja said.
‘I’ll be there in a sec. I’m just going to take Heidi to mummy,’ I said, and went to the kitchen carrying Heidi on my hip like an experienced housewife. Linda was chatting with Gustav, the only one of the Lodjuret parents with a good old-fashioned profession, and with whom for some reason she got on well. He was jovial, his face shone, his short always neatly dressed body was robust and stocky, his neck strong, his chin broad, his face chubby but open and cheerful. He liked talking about books he had enjoyed, the latest of which were by Richard Ford.
‘They’re fantastic,’ he would say. ‘Have you read them? They’re about an estate agent, an ordinary man, yes, and his life, so recognisable and normal. Ford captures the whole spirit of America! The American mood, the very pulse of the country!’
I liked Gustav, especially his decency, which was thanks to nothing more complicated than his having a basic, honest job, which incidentally none of my friends had, least of all myself. We were the same age, but I thought of him as ten years older from his appearance. He was adult in the way our parents had been when I was growing up.
‘I think perhaps Heidi ought to go to sleep soon,’ I said. ‘She seems tired. And probably hungry too. Will you take her home?’
‘Yes, just have to finish eating first, OK?’
‘Of course.’
‘Now I’ve held your book in my hand!’ Gustav said. ‘I was in the bookshop, and there it was. It looked interesting. Was it published by Norstedts?’
‘Yes,’ I said with a strained smile. ‘It was.’
‘You didn’t buy it then?’ Linda asked, not without a teasing tone to her voice.
‘No, not this time,’ he said, wiping his mouth with a serviette. ‘It’s about angels, isn’t it?’
I nodded. Heidi had slipped from my grasp, and when I lifted her up again I noticed how heavy her nappy was.
‘I’ll change her before you go,’ I said. ‘You brought the changing bag, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, it’s in the hall.’
‘OK,’ I said, and went out to fetch a nappy. In the living room Vanja and Achilles were running around, jumping from the sofa onto the floor, laughing, getting up and jumping off again. I felt a surge of warmth in my breast. Leaned over and picked up a nappy and a packet of wipes while Heidi clung to me like a little koala bear. There was no changing table in the bathroom, so I laid her on the floor tiles, took off her stockings, tore off the two adhesive tabs on the nappy and threw it in the bin under the sink while Heidi watched me with a serious expression.