Free Time to Let Go by Christoph Fischer Page A

emails from almost everyone in her addre ss book: news had travelled quickly. She was tempted to send a short impersonal reply to all of them to reassure everyone that she was fine but that would be a lie. She was expecting a big emotional breakdown at some point and probably owed many of her friends a more detailed and honest explanation about what was going on in her life but she just couldn’t do it now: she had come here to forget.
    There were sev eral letters from the airline: her manager urged her to get in touch immediately; a woman from human resources, whom she had never heard of, sent her a document with company policies that should be ‘informative and relevant’; the trade union had also sent several mails, offering her any support that she needed and giving her phone numbers of union reps, a 24 hour help line and of a solicitor who was on their pay roll.
    T he only one she replied to was that from her brother, Henrik, which was a generic update he sent out once in a while to tell her and lots of other people about his life. She informed him briefly that she had taken temporary residence back home to spend time with their mother. He was unlikely to find anything unusual with her decision. He lived in his own little world and was not very perceptive when it came to other people.
    She compli mented him about the way he had installed the Internet at their parents’ house which - as he could see - she found very easy to use and invited him to come and meet her at the family home, if he had an opening in his busy schedule.
    She knew it was unlikely he would turn up. Since he had had a new girlfriend, he was hard to get hold of and unwilling to do anything that did not revolve around her schedule and interests.
    As she closed down the computer she heard the telephone ring downstairs. Her father must have been standing right next to it because he seemed to be answering it immediately. She walked down the stairs and heard him speaking quietly, explaining to the caller that he had to do this because of an ill person in the house being asleep. He was listening for some time to the reply from the other end. At first he looked confused and bewildered, then knowingly amused and eventually he turned to Hanna and said:
    “It is for you. It is a ...follow up...call from the paramedic. He wants to speak to you.”
    With a broad grin he handed her the receiver and gestured for her to take the cordless phone upstairs away from her sleeping mother.
    Hanna took the call upstairs.
    “To what do I owe the honour of your call?” Hanna asked him when she was out of earshot.
    “I just wanted to see if you were free at all while you are staying with your parents. Maybe I could take you out for dinner tonight or tomorrow?”
    “Today is a bit short notice,” Hanna said, “but tomorrow would be fine. Thank you for the magazines, by the way. They were well received.”
    “I thought you would not leave your mother alone in the hospital.”
    “Yes, I wouldn’t have,” Hanna admitted. “So thank you very much.”
    “I better let you get on, then. Shall we say 7pm at the Indian on Queen’s Square?”
    “Perfect.”
    When Hanna came back down the stairs shortly after, Walter looked up from his notes with raised eyebrows.
    “Tell your friends not to call here while your mother is asleep. We were lucky she did not wake up. She needs her rest, especially today.”
    “I didn’t exactly expect a call and I didn’t give him my number, let alone yours. He must have got it from the phone book.”
    “What did he want? A date?”
    “I guess. I am going out for a meal with him tomorrow.”
    “I thought you were here to see us? Now you are off dating.”
    “One evening, one meal. No need to be so dramatic, Dad! If you like I’ll cancel.”
    Walter shook his head and witho ut verbal comment he turned his attention back to his chronicle papers on the table.
    “I brought a portable DVD player and some films for mother,” Hanna said.