Free The True Deceiver by Tove Jansson

in.
    Anna touched her wineglass but didn’t raise it. Her sudden immobility was transferred to her guests, and for one frozen moment the room was as rigid as a photograph.
    “Attention,” Anna said. “Giving another human being your undivided attention is a pretty rare thing. No, I don’t think it happens very often… Figuring out what someone wants and longs for, without being told – that probably requires a great deal of insight and thought. And of course sometimes we hardly know ourselves. Maybe we think it’s solitude we need, or maybe just the opposite, being with other people… We don’t know, not always…” Anna stopped talking, searched for words, raised her glass and drank. “This wine is sour. I wonder if it hasn’t stood too long. Don’t we have an unopened bottle of Madeira in the sideboard somewhere? No, let it go. Don’t interrupt me. What I’m trying to say is that there are few people who take the time to understand and listen, to enter into another person’s way of living. The other day it occurred to me how remarkable it is that you, Miss Kling, can write my name as if I’d written it myself. It is characteristic of your thoughtfulness, your thoughtfulness for me and no one else. Very unusual.”
    “It’s not especially unusual,” Katri said. “Mats, pass the cream. It’s simply a matter of observation. You observe certain habits and behaviour patterns, you see what’s missing, what’s incomplete, and you supply it. It’s just a matter of experience. Get things working as best you can, then wait and see.”
    “Wait and see what?” said Anna. She was annoyed.
    “How it goes,” Katri said, looking straight at Anna, her eyes at this moment deeply yellow. She continued very slowly. “Miss Aemelin, the things people do for one another mean very little, seen purely as acts. What matters is their motives, where they’re headed, what they want.”
    Anna put down her glass and looked at Mats. He smiled at her. He hadn’t been listening.
    “Miss Kling,” Anna said, “you worry about such peculiar things. If people come up with some pleasant way of helping or making you happy, then it’s just exactly what it appears to be… What became of that Madeira? Or port. Whatever you can find. Take Papa’s best glasses, they’re on the top, on the right. And don’t interrupt me, I have something to say.” Anna waited impatiently. When the glasses were filled, she declared quickly, almost angrily, that since the upper floor was empty, it would be a purely practical arrangement for Katri and Mats to move in. She forgot to propose a toast, rose from the table, wished them a pleasant evening, further discussion could wait for tomorrow, and would Mats please close the damper when the fire was completely out.
    Once in her room, Anna was gripped by alarm. She stood inside the door, trembling violently, waiting, but Katri didn’t come. Katri should have come. Finally, Anna crept in under the coverlet and hid from her irrevocable decision – to be alone no more. She was too warm. The silence lasted too long. Anna threw off the covers and jumped out of bed. The parlour was empty. In the hall she tripped over the dog she wasn’t used to, mumbled an apology, and was finally out in the snow.
    The door banged behind her in the wind. A few steps into the woods and the cold swept over her like a gentle warning. She stopped. Katri stood quietly in the kitchen window, waiting. Anna came back, the door slammed, and for a long moment there was quiet. Then Anna shouted loudly and very angrily, “Miss Kling! Your dog is shedding, there’s hair everywhere. You need to comb your dog!”
    Katri waited until Anna’s steps moved on, then she drew a deep breath and continued washing the dishes in silence.

Chapter Twelve
     
     
    T HE MOVE WAS MADE IN L ILJEBERG’S VAN and was very simple: a few cardboard boxes, two suitcases, a small table, and a bookcase.
    “No problem,” said Liljeberg. “It’s