Free A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman

on his clogs, and walks past them both towards the shed. He’s pretty sure neither of them even notices him. He hears them still bickering as he starts backing out with the ladder.
    “Go on, help him then, Patrick,” Parvaneh bursts out when she catches sight of him.
    The Lanky One takes a few steps towards him, with fumbling movements. Ove keeps his eyes on him, as if watching a blind man at the wheel of a crowded city bus. And only after that does Ove realize that, in his absence, his property has been invaded by yet another person.
    Rune’s wife, Anita, from farther down the street, is standing next to Parvaneh, blithely watching the spectacle. Ove decides the only rational response must be to pretend that she’s doing no such thing. He feels anything else would only encourage her. He hands the Lanky One a cylindrical case with a set of neatly sorted Allen keys.
    “Oh, look how many there are,” says the imbecile thoughtfully, gazing into the case.
    “What size are you after?” asks Ove.
    The Lanky One looks at him as people do when they lack the self-possession to say what they are thinking.
    “The . . . usual size?”
    Ove looks at him for a long, long time.
    “What are you using these things for?” he says at last.
    “To fix an IKEA wardrobe we took apart when we moved. And then I forgot where I put the Eileen key,” he explains, apparently without a trace of shame.
    Ove looks at the ladder.
    “And this wardrobe’s on the roof, is it?”
    The Lanky One sniggers and shakes his head. “Oh, right, see what you mean! No, I need the ladder because the upstairs window is jammed. Won’t open.” He adds the last part as if Ove would not otherwise be able to understand the implications of that word, “jammed.”
    “So now you’re going to try to open it from the outside?” Ove wonders.
    The Lanky One nods and clumsily takes the ladder from him. Ove looks as if he’s about to say something else, but he seems to change his mind. He turns to Parvaneh.
    “And why exactly are you here?”
    “Moral support,” she twitters.
    Ove doesn’t look entirely convinced. Nor does the Lanky One.
    Ove’s gaze wanders reluctantly back to Rune’s wife. She’s still there. It seems like years since he last saw her. Or at least since he really looked at her. She’s gone ancient. People all seem to get ancient behind Ove’s back these days.
    “Yes?” says Ove.
    Rune’s wife smiles mildly and clasps her hands across her hips.
    “Ove, you know I don’t want to disturb you, but it’s about the radiators in our house. We can’t get any heat into them,” she says carefully and smiles in turn at Ove, the Lanky One, and Parvaneh. Parvaneh and the Lanky One smile back. Ove looks at his dented wristwatch.
    “Does no one on this street have a job to go to anymore?” he wonders.
    “I’m retired,” says Rune’s wife, almost apologetically.
    “I’m on maternity leave,” says Parvaneh, patting her stomach proudly.
    “I’m an IT consultant!” says the Lanky One, also proudly.
    Ove and Parvaneh again indulge in a bit of synchronized head-shaking.
    Rune’s wife makes another attempt.
    “I think it could be the radiators.”
    “Have you bled them?” says Ove.
    She shakes her head and looks curious.
    “You think it could be because of that?”
    Ove rolls his eyes.
    “Ove!” Parvaneh roars at him at once, as if she’s a reprimanding schoolmistress. Ove glares at her. She glares back. “Stop being rude,” she orders.
    “I told you, I’m not rude!”
    Her eyes are unwavering. He makes a little grunt, then goes back to standing in the doorway. He thinks it could sort of be enough now. All he wants is to die. Why can’t these lunatics respect that?
    Parvaneh puts her hand encouragingly on Rune’s wife’s arm.
    “I’m sure Ove can help you with the radiators.”
    “That would be amazingly kind of you, Ove,” Rune’s wife says at once, brightening.
    Ove sticks his hands in his pockets. Kicks at the