Free Never End by Åke Edwardson Page A

Wägner.”
    “Precisely.”
     
     
    Anne had one last swim. Andy too. The rest of the crowd sang a song for sunset, or maybe it was about the sunset. She felt a bit dizzy after the two glasses of wine, and it was as if she became sharp and focused again thanks to the water, which felt cooler now than it had an hour ago, or maybe it was two.
    The whole crowd would go out tonight, and she was looking forward to it. It hadn’t always been like that; several times she’d stayed at home. She wasn’t sure her mom approved. She’d said it was nice to have her at home in the evening, but she wasn’t sure she’d really meant it. But now that she’d finished school it was as if Mom wanted her to be out having fun as much as possible. As if this were the last summer. The last summer. Wasn’t there a film called that?
    Several times she’d gone straight home from there. Two more times, and then she could stop.
    She should never have done it. If anybody had asked her, she wouldn’t have been able to explain why.
    But it didn’t matter.
    She dried herself quickly—it felt almost chilly now that the sun was merely red.
    There was no wind as they traveled back home, but even so, there seemed to be a sort of chill over the fields.
    Back in town it still felt hot in among all the buildings. Like going inside a house after cycling home through the fields by the sea. They stopped in the Avenue, locked their bikes, and sat at one of the sidewalk cafés. Same as usual.
    “A large beer for everybody,” said Andy when the waitress appeared.
    “We really ought to go home and take a shower first,” she said. “It feels better sitting here, though.” Their beers arrived. There were five of them around the table. “It’s like finishing work for the day.”
    “It’s hard work, lying flat out by the sea all day long,” said Andy, taking a swig of his beer. “But this way you get a double whammy.” He smiled, a very white smile. “We relax with a beer, then you go home and take a shower and freshen up, and then we meet here again.”
    Somebody laughed.
    Her mobile phone rang. It was her mother. Yes. She’d be home shortly. In half an hour. Yes. Going out tonight. She rolled her eyes so the others could see. Andy gestured to the waitress, who was teetering past with a tray full of beer for another table. Andy would probably stay there all evening. He didn’t need to freshen up. He never looked as if he were in need of freshening up.
    “That was Mom,” she said, putting her mobile back in her handbag.
    “Really?”
    “I live on my own now, but she always feels the need to keep an eye on me.” She eyed Andy’s beer. “I suppose you’ll be staying here?” she said.
    “Skål,” Andy said.
    “Right, I’m going.”
    “You turned your phone off, I hope?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “No more unwanted interruptions, if you don’t mind.” Andy took a drink and smiled, white, white.
    No more unwanted interruptions. A few days ago she and Andy had been cuddling and might have gone further than that, but she, or maybe he, must have knocked the speed dial on her phone, and as they lay there suddenly they heard a voice, and . . . well, it had connected to her mom’s answering machine.
    Not nice.
    “Thanks for reminding me! I hope that never happens again.” Anne said.
    She emptied her own glass, waved, went to her bike, unlocked it, and set out along the Avenue. There were more and more people, walking up and down in droves. It seemed to have grown warmer again. She was longing for a shower.
    Her mobile rang, the display said “incoming call.” But nobody spoke when she answered. She hung up, and put the phone back into her bag.
    She turned onto the bike lane heading west. It seemed to be a little cooler once she’d left the Avenue. The smell of food wafted out of the Grand Hotel.

8
    WINTER PASSED ON SHAVING. HE PUT ON A SHORT-SLEEVED SHIRT and a pair of linen pants. Angela and Elsa were both asleep when he left at